The Moon Diamonds

I’m writing about a new book this month, but it’s not my book.  Now you might be wondering why I’m writing about someone else’s book.  I’m glad you brought that up because I have a whole list of reasons.  Some of these are my reasons and some are the author’s reasons.  I’m not telling which is which.

1) The first reason is simply because I want to write about someone else’s book.  It’s my blog.  I get to do whatever I want.

2) I said I would write about this, and I do my best to keep my word.  It must have been many years ago because I don’t actually remember saying I’d someday share news of this first book.  But it sounds like me, and I’m doing my best to keep what sounds like my word.

3) It’s a good book.  I have read and enjoyed it.  It has some political intrigue that isn’t usually my cup of tea, and I admit I had trouble keeping track of the large cast of characters.  But there is a ton of action and humor, which are my favorite parts of a fantasy novel.  If it makes me laugh, I like it.

4) This counts as a good deed.  I’m usually wary of authors promoting each other’s work because I know there’s a lot of tit-for-tat that taints the enthusiasm.  In this case, because it’s me and I know me, I know I’m not getting anything in return.  And because I know the author, I believe she is trying to forge a path God has laid out for her.  It feels good to have a small part in that.

5) I needed a topic for this month.  Any suggestion that I complain about a lack of ideas every other month is a total exaggeration on top of a mountain of hyperbole.  Still… I’ll take the low hanging fruit when it’s offered.

6) Consistency is important.  I have mentioned this author several times over the years.  She was writing entertaining interviews at a young age.  She helped populate a fictional town even younger and has understood for years that a real book needs real effort.  And there was that disastrous time we tried to write together.  It would be a glaring omission if I failed to comment on her published work, or the fact that I’m delighted she’s following in my footsteps.

7) Even though it’s not my book, I still get a teeny tiny bit of credit because of how I ended reason six.  Try to read The Moon Diamonds without seeing traces of my influence in the writing.  It’s not possible.  This is why I think some of my readers will enjoy it even though it’s a different genre.

8) Read reason one again if you need another reason.  Then after you’ve finished my latest, you can check out this newer book.

Heather (part 2)

Start with part 1 of this short story if you haven’t already read it or want a refresher.  Did you guess the guy?  You’ll find out in the first line of part 2 if you’re correct.

--

    Heather tried to look for butterflies on the shelf, but her attention kept shifting to Adam, who was doing a better job looking for butterflies. He’d pointed out two more suggestions. Heather didn’t think either of them would be something her mom liked.
    “What was that word you said before?” he asked. “Butteriflied? Is that how your mom describes her collection?”
    “Uh, no.” Her face warmed. “That was just something that slipped out when I tried to explain that she only collects items where the butterfly is the first thing you see.”
    He nodded. His eyes sparkled with amusement. It wasn’t mocking or derisive. Heather allowed herself to smile at the nonsense word. She relaxed enough to actually think about her mom’s gift again. Nothing on the shelf in front of her seemed appropriate.
    Adam rounded a corner ahead of her, and a minute later his voice called, “Hey! Isn’t this what you were holding when I came in?”
    Heather caught up to where he was holding a tall, skinny vase. She recognized the slippery neck and took in the square base for the first time. It was covered with beautiful butterflies. The wings were colorful metallics, mostly in shades of blue and purple on a silvery background. “That’s perfect,” she said. “Mom will love it.”
    “Then why were we looking for something else?” Adam tipped his head in confusion.
    “I didn’t see the butterflies.”
    “On the thing in your hand?” His confusion turned into disbelief.
    “Well, Mrs. Johnson had just picked it up when you walked in, and – ” Heather clamped her mouth shut on the rest of that thought. She was not going to admit she’d freaked out at the sight of him.
    Adam stared at her for several moments, searching her eyes for the other half of the sentence. He must have read at least a hint because his expression softened. “I messed up so much with…”
    Mrs. Johnson’s footsteps made him cut off what he was about to say just before she reappeared at the bottom of the stairs smiling cheerfully. She was holding a lidless shoebox full of plastic toys. “Most of these light up. I think someone was collecting novelty lights, then sold the whole thing for five bucks when he got tired of it. I knew I couldn’t sell it here, but something made me buy it anyway.” She handed it to Adam. “Then I remembered the summer fling coming up at the church.”
    “These will be great prizes for the kids’ games,” Adam said. “Thanks.”
    Mrs. Johnson turned back to Heather. “Now we need to get you squared away.”
    “I’ll take this.” She held up the vase.
    “Good choice.” Mrs. Johnson smiled. “Of course, you do know your mom is likely to continue being stupid, especially after you show your appreciation.”
    Heather laughed.
    “Moms are like that,” Adam said from behind her.
    Heather had sensed he was still there, but she assumed he was slowly making his way to the door. She turned at his comment and saw him standing there as though he was waiting for her. Was he waiting for her? Heather finished her transaction as quickly as she could while still being polite.
    Adam moved towards the door in time to open it for her. “Heather?”
    She hadn’t processed what, if anything, she wanted to say before they parted at the sidewalk. She was relieved that he seemed to have something to say. “Yes?”
    “Um…” He rattled the box he was holding. “Mrs. Donnelly is waiting for this, but… I was on my way to Pans and Plates to try Noah’s alien pizza. Have you eaten? Do you… have time to join me?”
    “I’ve been wanting to check that out. Emily said it’s really good.”
    “Great. So you’ll wait for me while I drop these at the church? It’ll only be five minutes.”
    “Sure. I’ll save you a seat.”
    Adam nodded, tucked the box under his arm, and moved past her at a jog.
    Heather walked slowly, trying to sort through a million thoughts that all wanted to talk to her at once. She and Adam used to get along. That last interaction had been surprisingly natural, almost as though they’d returned to the time before Kayla imploded a bunch of relationships. Heather couldn’t help reminding herself that in the present Adam was unattached. She wished he would eventually see her as more than a friend, that he was coming back into her life in a significant way. But she managed to push those thoughts away and focus on being content that he was coming back for lunch.

--

Don’t forget to preorder Eve’s Brother. That can be the next thing on your to read list.

Heather (part 1)

Here’s a brief never-before-published scene I imagined somewhere between Love in Andauk and More Love in Andauk. (Minor spoilers if you haven’t read the former.) Notice that the guy’s name is not mentioned. Have you read enough to guess his identity?
__

    “I need a present for my mom because she’s being stupid.”
    Mrs. Johnson didn’t even blink. She walked around one of the glass shelves and returned a minute later holding something in each hand.
    Heather barely registered either item before she heard the door open behind her. When she saw who was coming in, she lost all ability to focus and, for some unknown reason, the feeling in both her legs.
    He tried to hang back near the door, but Mrs. Johnson smiled and urged him forward with a question about how she could help.
    “I don’t want to interrupt,” he said. His eyes searched Heather for how upset she was by the interruption.
    She wasn’t upset. She was delighted to see him, despite the shock and mortification, despite being unable to tell him that, despite still just trying not to fall over.
    “We’re going to be awhile picking the perfect gift,” Mrs. Johnson said. “If you have a quick need, we can do that first.”
    He took another step forward, still trying to gauge Heather’s reaction.
    She managed to nod a little, which she meant to give him permission to continue. Heather was having trouble remembering why she was there so Mrs. Johnson was likely right about her not being quick.
    “I was just at St. Jude’s,” he said. “Mrs. Donnelly caught me leaving and sent me here to pick up… She said you had a box of… um… trinkets for the festival next week.”
    “Oh, it’s sweet of you to save me a trip. I’ll just run upstairs to get those.” Mrs. Johnson pressed the items in her hands into Heather’s hands. Then she pulled a key from her pocket to unlock a door on the side of the shop. Her footsteps tapped lightly on wooden stairs after she disappeared.
    Heather looked down at her hands. There was a snow globe in one and an awkwardly tall vase in the other. Both were glass and dangerously slippery in her sweaty hands. She’d seen him at church and around town in the year and a half since Kayla made the idiotic decision to dump him – since Kayla had cited Heather being in love with him as the reason for her idiotic decision – but this was the first time she’d been in a position to have an actual conversation with him.
    “Who’s the gift for?” he asked.
    “My mom.” Heather’s eyes slipped over a pretty cross on one of the shelves as they lifted to meet his. It filled her with courage and a bit of clarity, though her legs were still jelly. “I’ve had some car trouble, and she’s been giving me rides everywhere. I was going to get a friend to take me to pick it up this afternoon, but she insisted she could do that, too. I wanted a small thank you… something.”
    “Doesn’t your mom collect butterflies?”
    She tried not to gasp audibly that he remembered. It was a tiny fact not worth gasping over. “Yes,” she said.
    “Got to be a butterfly in here somewhere.” He turned towards the shelves.
    He was going to help her find a silly present for her mom? Heather quickly stashed the items she was holding on the closest shelf. She knew that wasn’t where Mrs. Johnson had found them, but there wasn’t much organization in the second-hand shop. And the fragile things were safer there.
    “What about this one?” He pointed.
    Heather moved closer to see what it was. It was a plaque with a lame platitude engraved. A butterfly graced one corner amid a blur of flowers, but it wasn’t the focal point.
    He laughed at the expression that apparently gave away more of her opinion than she intended. “Not even close, huh?”
    “Well, it’s… uh… it’s not… butteriflied enough.” Heather cringed. What in the world had she just said?
    “I’ll… I think I’ll try again.” He focused on the knickknacks spread out before them, but there was an earnestness in his voice that somehow reached beyond the trivial present to a hope Heather had never dared to have before.
    She prayed that hope wasn’t as obvious on her face as her previous thought.


To be continued...

The Order of Operations

We’ve all been tempted to skip ahead while reading a book.  I’m not talking about a bad book where a reader skips to the ending to more quickly move on to something worth reading.  I mean a good book where the reader gets impatient for even better scenes with thoughts like, “I suspect he’ll eventually win her over with his pirate impression, and I need to know if I should be tracking every mention for possible foreshadowing,” or “I predict she will find the magic portal back home under that spooky shed when she accidentally burns it to the ground, and I just can’t wait to know if I’m right.”  These are universal thoughts.  But we all resist the urge to look ahead because that’s just not how you read a book. 

I have to admit I’m occasionally tempted to skip ahead with books I write as well.  Sometimes in the early chapters I’m thinking about how much more fun it’ll be to write the super romantic thing he says or does to really cement the relationship.  I have to wait.  I can’t write the super romantic line until it becomes romantic through everything that happens first.  I need to multiply the feelings before I add the people.

Let’s examine a real, non-romantic example.  One of the best lines in The Lord of the Rings is when Sam says, “Come, Mr. Frodo!  I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you.”  Starting the book from this line makes the amazing quote dumb.  What is this thing that Mr. Frodo can’t carry?  And why does Sam think carrying it with the added weight of a person will be easier?  Sam doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  And if you read just enough to know they’re trying to get to the top of Mt. Doom, it’s even worse.  Anyone trying to climb something literally called Mt. Doom must be a moron.  It’s the rest of the story that makes it awesome.  Reading it out of order makes as much sense as a math problem with only half the equation.

It's the same with a romance.  I can’t skip to a scene where the heroine swoons over a plate of deviled eggs when the hero peels off the tin foil, puts it on his head, and says, “Pro nobis.”  By itself, it’s a terrible scene.  But… if I’ve written the part where they meet at a picnic reaching for the last deviled egg at the same time, and the part where he works to overcome his fear of mustard bottles to make the recipe he got from her mom, and I’ve written several scenes about her recurring dream where she’s married to a guy she can’t see but always makes her feel safe and cherished and has tin foil on his head, and I included the bit that specifies her love language is Latin… then it’s a beautiful moment.  Right?

Don’t worry about any of that being a spoiler for book 4 though.  I’m still working on the multiplication, and I haven’t added any deviled eggs.

Not Wrong

I had trouble coming up with a topic for this month, which should surprise no one. I’ve already used not knowing what to write about as a topic to write about. More than once.  More than twice actually, but I won't try to list them all.  You're welcome.

I may have exhausted that non-topic.

I did have one idea. I checked the stats on this blog to see which posts have gotten the most attention. Perhaps seeing what’s been popular would let me know what people want to read. I discovered that two posts near the top of the list have the word wrong in the titles. One was called “I think I’ll keep doing it wrong.” And the other from about a year later was called “Still Wrong.” This suggests people enjoy reading about me being wrong.

That can’t be right.

But in an effort to remain entertaining, I tried really hard to think of other times I’ve been wrong so I could share those. There aren’t any. I’m sure I’ve been right about absolutely everything else.

I did, however, think of a recent example of someone else thinking I was wrong. This person read an early draft of my next book and made only one comment in the whole thing. It was an entire paragraph about how wrong I was to have the main character paint a room yellow. I was wrong to have others approve the choice, wrong for having someone assure her it wasn’t bold because yellow is totally bold and wrong. The person who tried to convince me of this may or may not be related to me.

In all honesty, yellow is probably the last color I’d choose for paint. But I didn’t choose it, my character did. She’s allowed to like things I don’t and have opinions I don’t share. I might have considered this feedback if I hadn’t already designed the cover based on the color in that scene. Starting over on the cover would have been very, very wrong.

Cover Secrets Revealed

I’m going to continue the exciting, behind-the-scenes thread I started last month by letting everyone in on some secrets behind the covers for the current series.  Notice the pretty flowers on Evelyn’s Granddaughter and Sarah’s Friend.  Secret #1: Those flowers are fake.  This is probably not the most shocking secret.  I wasn’t trying to get away with anything.  I only wanted to use flowers I could manhandle into fifty different photo arrangements without them looking bedraggled halfway through.

Secret #2: The flowers on the cover of book 3 are not fake.  There was a bunch of unusually strong-smelling flowers in my house.  People (sometimes my kids but mostly me) kept commenting on how powerful the scent was as they passed those flowers.  I thought what anyone would think in that situation.  “Those are pretty.  I should use them for a book cover before I chuck them in the trash because I can’t stand the scent anymore.”

Notice that book 1 has a burgundy background and book 2 is blue.  Secret #3: That’s really the same background.  I used a scrap of fabric for the background of the first cover – narrowly avoiding the velvet starfish – and liked the way the texture turned out.  I used the same scrap of fabric to take a picture for book 2, then digitally altered it to be blue.  Actually, I turned it purple and turquoise before I decided blue was better than both of those. 

The third cover will be yellow, cheerful yellow to be specific.  I didn’t think I could turn the dark fabric such a light color without causing other problems.  Secret #4: The yellow background is really part of a Link costume.  It was the only yellow I could find.  It seems no one here wears yellow outside of Halloween.  Secret #5: That yellow background is really tan is really yellow.  I don’t know if it was bad lighting or a bad camera or simply my lack of photography skills, but the yellow shirt turned tan in all my pictures.  I ended up having to digitally turn it yellow even though I used yellow fabric.

Secret #6: I turned something else yellow, too.  It won’t be difficult to guess once I post the new cover.  But first I need to figure out which version of stinky flowers, something yellow and a costume is most awesome.  That has been difficult.  Check back soon to see the decision.

Sneak Peek

One of my characters didn’t recycle something.  It was annoying until I realized she didn’t realize it.  This kind of thing happens embarrassingly often when I’m typing out the first draft of a new book.  My handwriting is… So in my defense, I write everywhere.  I carry around my notebook whenever I expect to have some downtime.  I’ve written in the dark.  I’ve written outside on a windy day.  I’ve written left-handed (I’m not left-handed.) while trying to do something apparently far more necessary with my right.  Sometimes this causes my handwriting to suffer.

And I scribble when I’m just sitting in a comfy chair concentrating on my work.

When I’m typing up the draft, I occasionally need to pause to figure out why what I just typed didn’t make any sense.  In this book, I typed, “There was a fear and a bucket of supplies.”

Wait.  What?

And I probably didn’t mean that “Noah was an excellent distortion” either. 

I typed, “It got me a bunch of other stuff.”

That could make sense by itself.  I still had to pause because the context revealed that it should have been, “It got me thinking about a bunch of other stuff.”  Sometimes what I write is wrong even when my handwriting is readable because I skip words when my brain is moving faster than my hand.  Sometimes I have to pause before I type because it doesn’t make sense in the notebook.

That was the case for a sentence that read, “And they almost always indided some joking and random tangate.”  I had to stare at that for a moment before I saw that I’d been trying to write about something that included random tangents.  At another point in the story, I found a super deep question about reflecting on the “unpertive” of a holiday.  That’s what it looked like anyway.  I’m still reflecting on what I meant to write. 

I also wrote that someone “wanted a break this break.”  I think my brain wasn’t working faster than my hand there, it just wasn’t working.  One of my favorite puzzles so far has been where I wrote, “He was probably only there because of those other people so it made sense”

I find plenty of crossed out words in my drafts, but this was the first time I didn’t write something else in its place.  It just ended there and moved on to the next sentence.  I forgot to correct myself.  I hope what I came up with is as good as what I forgot to write three months ago.

Yes, all of these examples are actual fragments of my next book which has not yet been released.  It doesn’t even have a release date.  This is a thrilling sneak peek behind the scenes of my unfinished work.  Oops, not sure how I mistook vague and uninteresting for thrilling.  Maybe I was writing upside-down.

My Resolutions

It’s the time of year for resolutions, and that has me reflecting on some of my most successful ones.  I spent many years trying to write a book before a resolution changed everything.  The problem was that I kept starting a new book.  I knew writing was fun and kept forgetting that it’s also hard.  One year, I resolved not to write a book but to finish one.  When I actually accomplished that, proved to myself I could do the hard work, it made the rest of my writing even more fun.  There is so much more joy in a project when you know it’ll eventually be something to share.  The struggles and frustrations turn into good when I have a complete work to show for it.

While I generally keep my private life private, I will say that I’ve been married for twenty-five years.  My husband and I resolved to raise wonderful children together.  I admit that one’s rather vague.  I think it’s going well though.  My kids (some of whom aren’t technically kids anymore) entertain me every day.  They throw out one-liners as though I might be living in a sit-com and provide excellent material for my books.  If I ever find myself writing a character’s reaction to a massive hole in someone’s backyard, it’ll be one of those things “used fictitiously.” 

God’s ways are mysterious.  I may never know why he was determined to give me a head full of gray hair earlier than most.  About five years ago, I resolved to stop fighting him on it.  I’d say that resolution has been pretty successful as well.  I now get offered the senior discount on a regular basis.  This is a great source of amusement to everyone who knows I’m still more than a decade from qualifying. 

I guess that’s why I’m not making any resolutions this year, unless resolving to do more of the same counts.  More books, more laughs, more leaving God in control.  I think that’s a recipe for a good year.  And if I ever need more joy, I’ll grab a shovel and join my kids in the backyard.  They seem to think it’s buried out there somewhere.