Caught in the Act

It’s such a pleasure when our kids catch us doing something right. My sixteen-year-old daughter recently cleaned one of the vacation rentals I own as a birthday gift to me. When I checked the property over, it met my high standards.

I asked her how she knew what needed to be done.

“Come on, Mom. I’ve seen you do it a million times!”

The same daughter aced the writing portions of the ACT and SAT. I wanted to shake my head in disbelief at her accomplishment. But why should her success be a surprise? As she was growing up, we would discuss grammar as if it were the weather, plot structure like we were planning the evening meal. She caught my excitement for words and brought it to her own higher level.

Our kids aren’t the only ones that catch our vibes as we chug along toward our personal writing goals. Friends, neighbors, the dishwasher repairman… We inspire them with our fearless exploits as we take a shot at getting published.  Who knows, they might even turn off the television and turn on the computer instead. Suddenly we realize we are transforming the lives of complete strangers simply because as writers, we’re doing what’s right. Writing. May we all be caught in the act.

The Bottom Line of Living and Writing

Below is the complete, tweaked version of my blog originally posted at the link above. 

The Bottom Line Of Living And Writing

With three published books under my belt, I feel as if I should be able to ease into some ‘established author’ comfort zone. But the truth is, writing is like any line of work – you have to produce in order to get paid. For the small percentage of authors who can make a comfortable living from their books, it’s a no-brainer where to focus their time. But for the rest of us, writing to be published can sometimes be a luxury afforded only by those who have a reliable alternate source of support, whether an understanding, hard-working spouse or a full-time job.

I found this out the hard way. I’d written Love Me If You Must, Kill Me If You Can, and Kiss Me If You Dare when newly single, living off an advance, settlement money, and whatever miscellaneous income I could muster from my bed & breakfast and vacation rental home business. I was certain my mystery series would wow the multitudes and royalties would come pouring in, supporting my children’s food, shelter, and clothing habit.

But last fall, I found myself without the income I desired and grasping at anything that might produce an advance. I drove my agent crazy with half-baked ideas, uncooked proposals, and raw one-liners. 

The Big D --Desperation -- rarely acts as a catapult. More often, it starves our minds, sending us down rabbit trails that don’t pay off. I knew I had to do something different if I were going to continue writing.

So I did that drastic, last-resort thing. I got a job.

The relief was immediate. A barrage of desperate ideas slowed to a trickle of well-defined thoughts. I now leave my agent in peace while I write a novel in a new romantic mystery series. I get a sound night’s sleep knowing that I’ll have electricity to recharge my laptop and enough new ideas to charge up my story.

I don’t write this as a bucket of cold water in the face of hopeful authors, but rather as a reality check for creative minds that sometimes veer toward optimism like a racecar with a blown tire. Slow down. Recalibrate. 

Maybe for now your story takes a sideline to the bottom line. Embrace it. Put the emotional drama on the page where it belongs while you tend to the matters of daily living. Your reward will be the book contract that’s waiting just ahead.

2009, Unresolved

The second hand is counting down the final hours of 2008. Holding to tradition, I ponder the past year and wonder what happened to the precious blocks of time that had been intended for writing, publicity, and career advancement. With a smile of satisfaction, I recall snuggle time on the couch with my ten-year-old daughter... reruns of Home Improvement with my twelve-year-old son... ‘girl movie’ nights with my sixteen-year-old… and an occasional special visit from my moved-out and moving-on eighteen-year-old son. Wasted moments? Not at all. Those stolen gems mark my history with love and laughter. They provide that feeling of ‘family’ I crave. They are what give the career goals and the hours invested depth and meaning.

If I were to look beyond the drop of a glimmering ball in Times Square, I might see a future of buckling-down and good intentions… a year filled with book contracts, promotion, and clever plot ideas.

But this year, instead of looking past midnight on any given day, I’ll be taking each day as it comes. I’ll be grateful for two new sentences added to a manuscript. I’ll pat myself on the back for arranging a book signing. I’ll give a cheer for every publicity postcard I mail before postage rates go up.

And when it comes to parenting, I’ll count my success in smiles and snuggles. If a kid gets inspired to do the laundry or dishes without being asked, I’ll know I’m doing all right.

Maybe my plans fall short of ambitious. Probably don’t even qualify to be considered New Year’s Resolutions. That’s okay. With a day-by-day approach put into strict practice, 2009 is sure to be an all-time favorite.

Wings to Fly

Reading is a luxury when you work full-time, raise four kids, and write on the side. So when an associate passed me The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby to read just for fun, I didn’t hold much hope of cracking the cover. But once opened, I was hooked on the final journey of this stroke victim, whose active mind lie trapped in an inert body. The blink of his left eye the only method of communication, Bauby details the frustration, despair, and loneliness of his “locked-in” condition that instead of defeating him only heightened his appreciation for life.

As a writer, I found myself almost envious of the many adventures he lived in his own mind. His universe had no limits. He created and destroyed his own reality with the simple turn of a thought. He could have obsessed over the unfairness of his illness, the injustice of life and God. Yet, more often than not, he looked with fond humor at the past and present.

That got me thinking. How many of us have able bodies and sound minds and yet exercise no control over our attitudes and mind-sets? We’ve become victims of our own emotions. Our lives are a continual reaction to stimuli rather than the result of in-depth planning and measured action.

And where Bauby pondered and massaged each sentence before blinking the letters to his interpreter, so many are guilty of blurting out thoughtless strings of words, with regret only moments behind. Looking back, there have been times in my life when I wish my left eye had been my only method of communication. Scads of hurtful words would have remained unspoken, the effort to utter them greater than the desire to wound.

In a sense, many of us are walking, talking sufferers of our own “locked-in” syndrome. How can the butterfly break free of the diving bell? It really comes down to personal choice, mental exercise, and restraint. With plenty of books, programs, and support groups available to make the job easier, there’s no reason not to get started right away.

I’ll admit I’ve got a long way to go to get rid of my diving bell. But like Bauby, I quit looking back with regret at my many mistakes. Instead, my only regrets are missed opportunities. And when those second chances come along, I’ll be wearing my wings.  

Where Love Should Reign

My latest release Kill Me If You Can deals with several serious topics. Spousal abuse was the toughest to write. Growing up, I had a vague knowledge that a relative was living in a physically abusive marriage. I remember my mom wishing she could provide safe harbor for this relative. But Mom's fear that the woman's husband would hurt our family prevented her from ever making the offer. Incredibly, the woman and her husband were both devout Christians who attended regular marriage counseling sessions with their minister. At last, the woman left her husband after twenty-five years of marriage despite her intense religious convictions. I cried as I wrote Kill Me If You Can character Candice LeJeune's story, based loosely on my childhood recollections of this woman's experience as a Christian in an abusive relationship. 

In researching the topic, I discovered that Christians can actually be more susceptible to abuse than non-Christians because of our strong, though sometimes misguided, understanding of submission in marriage. Where other women (or men) might easily identify abuse and remove themselves from the situation, women and men of faith may excuse the behavior, blaming themselves for not being a better spouse and choosing to stay in the dysfunctional relationship based on religious convictions -- even when their lives are in danger. 

But abuse isn't just physical. There are forms of emotional, mental, and spiritual abuse as well. Words can eat away at self-esteem, fear can lay hold of the mind, the Bible can be made a weapon. 

Every situation is different and there is no one-size-fits-all solution for those in an abusive relationship. Only the person held in its captivity can make the decision to seek healing. 

Maybe you know someone in an abusive relationship. Maybe it's you. Do some research. Get the facts. Ask for help. Consider an action plan. Take one step right now toward life. Maybe it's as simple as making a phone call of support. Maybe it means seeking shelter. 

No change is easy. In fact, it is guaranteed to be painful. But once you walk through the curtain of pain and out the other side, there is nothing more wonderful than knowing you chose life.

What I passed on

When my kids were little, I tried to capture them on paper, insecure pencil lines on white parchment. I wrote poems about them, lines of prose inspired by the beauty and innocence of new life. As they grew older, I read stories to them, sometimes editing in my own version of the tale so my voice wouldn’t wear out by the third book. One day they learned how to pour their own bowls of cereal and grab an apple from the fridge when they were hungry. They were semi-self-sufficient. And I realized I could write more, perhaps a short story, or even – gasp! – a novel. Many bowls of cereal and apples from the fridge later, my children are authors themselves. Having watched their mother endure the ups and downs of being an author, they have still chosen to express themselves with the written word. There is no greater pleasure than knowing I handed to my children the love of writing. I could have quit. I could have passed. Instead, I passed it on.

Pictured left to right: Author's mother Sandy McCollough, son Tyler, Author Nicole Young, daughter Tara, friend Kaylee, and in front, daughter Ilana

Kill Me If You Can now available!

My new release is now available! Kill Me If You Can is Patricia (Tish) Amble’s most heartrending tale yet, with her journey to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula involving more than fixing leaky tubs and repairing rotten decking. In her quest to find out about her mother’s suicide, Tish runs into other troubled women needing help. But in true Tish fashion, the more she tries to do the right thing, the more complicated things become. And before Tish knows it, she’s got a high-powered drug runner hot on her tail! Old flame Brad Walters may be her only hope of survival -- if she’ll let him. But in the end, Tish’s heart may be the biggest casualty of all...

Kill Me If You Can is the story that launched a career. The first chapter won the ACFW Noble Theme Contest in 2004, taking Best of Show and landing an agent, who then sold the three-book Patricia Amble Mystery Series to Revell.

Order your signed copy now at my website and get ready to join Tish on her next big adventure. Be sure to pack your bug spray!

2008 Vacation Adventure - Day Two

2008 Vacation Adventure – Day 2

We started our day with a simple breakfast in the condo, then set out for a healthy walk along the ocean, where I got to play Lifeguard. Despite the promised sun, the day was overcast. We weren’t disappointed, however, since it kept the temperatures in the upper seventies instead of the extreme eighties.

The highlight of our trip this far is the cruise through the swamp we took today. Driving a high-tech airboat he built himself, Captain Bruce had us hunting down alligators, discovering a gator nest, and even holding a baby alligator! We cut across a cattle pasture – watch out for cows crossing! – and decided not to get out of the boat for pictures when we saw the bull guarding his herd. He looked as scary as some of the gators we came across!

Keeping with the theme of the day, we ate supper at R.J. Gators next to our Wyndham Resort. The snow crab was fun to eat and delicious after a day of tracking gators and touring the Florida countryside.

Now its off to the movies, then packing and cleaning for our trip to Port Canaveral and our Carnival cruise tomorrow!

U.P. Blessings

What a joy to live in the Upper Peninsula. Just when winter starts to feel oppressive, here comes a fresh layer of snow and a Poker Run by snowmobile. That’s the fun we had this weekend when my guy Craig hooked a sled to the snowmobile and took our daughters and I on a wintry backwoods tour of the Garden Peninsula and Cooks area. We started at Craig’s house south of Garden, cut along by the lake, up through the trails past Mill Street and crossed the highway at Mini Mart. Then it was up Little Harbor Road and a left on PP Road where we met up with the official groomed trails. As the snow-covered wonderland flashed past our steady 20mph pace, I marveled at how quickly the trip to Sidetracks Restaurant in Cooks went compared to the three-hour plus journey by horseback. I loved checking the scenery to see where we’d been in the summer on the horses and remembering the green, lush landscape. After hot chocolate at Sidetracks, I jumped in the sled with Halle and enjoyed the full thumping and bumping of our trek. Tara had the opportunity to drive as we angled northwest and landed at Big Springs Bar where we had our tickets stamped, used the facilities, and rode a few miles south to our friends the Maki’s home where we had a trailer and truck waiting for the drive to Manistique and our chance to win big. Unfortunately, I got the best hand in our group – a flush with a King high. Not good enough to take home a cash prize. Down in the Elk’s Club dining room, we enjoyed delicious hot chili, prime rib sandwiches and cheeseburgers.

Yes, it was noisy on that snowmobile. And we stunk like gas fumes afterward. But what a great way to pass the cold weather – and what great memories for our girls and us. Come on up and give it a try!

A Sprinkle of Hungarian

How Hungarian do you have to be to claim a Hungarian heritage? It’s all in how much paprika, dumplings, and stuffed peppers you consumed as a child.

I lay claim to a good dose of Hungarian, due to my grandmother’s heavy-handed use of that zesty red spice. However, I’ve only sprinkled it in a few dishes of my own, dooming my children to an upbringing nearly barren of Hungarian influence.

Over the years, genetics has done its part in sifting out the Hungarian, like paprika spilled on the wind. My great-grandfather was a Sarkody from the old country. His very Hungarian nose was passed down through the generations until it is now only slightly Hungarian on my children’s all-American faces.

So, what I couldn’t pass on to my kids, I passed on to my character, Patricia Amble, the heroine of Love Me If You Must, Kill Me If You Can, and Kiss Me If You Dare. Tish comes from good Hungarian stock. Her grandmother is a Nagy, about as common a Hungarian name as Smith or Jones is American. And Tish herself has a knack for making Chicken Paprikash, one of my own favorites.

One thing Hungarian that I can pass on to my children – and to you – is the family recipe for Chicken Paprikash that my mother and her mother used over the last century and into the new one. (Don't worry -- Lil' Puddin', shown above, is our family pet and safe from the kettle!)

The recipe for the best Chicken Paprikash can be found on page 295 of the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book Ninth Edition, circa 1981. Unfortunately, the volume can only be found used at Amazon or e-bay. My own copy is too valuable to part with, and so many other dedicated fans of this volume feel the same way. Other recipes found at Cooks.com just aren’t the same as Grandma’s.

The Better Homes and Gardens recipe recommends serving the dish over noodles (I prefer egg noodles). But my favorite way to serve Chicken Paprikash is over homemade dumplings. Here’s my mom’s quick recipe for homemade dumplings: Mix four cups flour, four eggs, a dash of salt, and one cup water. Drop by heaping teaspoons into boiling water. When the dumplings float to the top (five or so minutes) they’re done. Drain and serve.

E-mail me if you'd like the family recipe for Chicken Paprikash. Enjoy!