Welcome to Christine London!

I recently asked Christine one of my favorite questions:

You get to go back in time to talk to anyone you want about your latest book. Who do you go to, what do you ask them and what do you think they will tell you.

What a great question, Regan. Thanks for having me as guest today.

If I were to go back in time involving my work in progress to talk to someone about its theme, I would need to speak with someone who has already died. Perhaps the best person would be a relative as I know them most intimately and could therefore have the deepest interaction. I would ask them to tell me about the aftertime and what things they would have done to make their time here all the more meaningful. But then this is sad as it involves regrets and the past...

 

What I would prefer to have the power to do is to go forward and speak to someone after their passing about what they could have done, should have done to make their life all the richer—to bring love into this brief existence to compliment their already amazing success.

There is a man I know that has all the trapping of earthly success, but has not accepted one special person into his heart to enrich his life far beyond what all his earthly success has already brought him. To speak with him in future time might have the power to help him make better choices today. The power of salvation in this one and only lifetime is much more alluring to me than regrets.

 

My work in progress:

 

One More Day

 

"Cole Phillips was dead.

Four years later his wife Tara is without any answers.

Is a universe that so cruelly tore her husband from her actually capable of bestowing such a gift?

One More Day… "

A tale of the return to life of a man so sorely missed by his widow the power of her will alone causes a rift in the universe, and with it, an opportunity of which other have only dreamed.

It is a universal experience— to lose someone too young, too soon, without a proper goodbye...and the desire to have a few more precious hours together. In One More Day I explore the emotions and strength of love to overcome even the finality of death. What would be discussed, how would one pass the hours if they were given such a gift with the person who had meant the most to them in their life? How can they learn to move on?

And this man who lives now that I might wish to visit in the future hereafter—what would he say? What would I ask hm? What would he tell me?

"Now that you have accolades, success, worldwide travel and have participated in heart pounding activities and wonders most only dream of, what would you most liked to have experienced that you did not?"

 

His answer?

 

"I would allow myself to see what was right in front of me---love. That special person that could have shared all my success through her eyes and mine. My life is not too busy to welcome that kind of intimacy. Life shared, even with insane travel and time constraint IS possible. The richness of this intimacy is so much deeper than the adrenaline of the 'right now' because there are no tomorrows hereafter. And there is nothing more important than grabbing the 'brass ring' here and now."

 

I think that most of us assume we have many more opportunities, many more tomorrows to live our ultimate dream—to love an be loved. To have the gift of being able to speak to someone who does not have the joy of this intimate sharing in his life— in the light of the finality of the hereafter...now that would be profoundly powerful in changing his life—other's lives— here and now.

Leap Of Faith

Awe Struck Publishing

Now Available:

http://tinyurl.com/43w4ho7

Film student Faith Holmes is on an Italian holiday bought and paid for -- a familial inducement to finding an Italian husband. She wants none of it. Boredom and curiosity make for a volatile mix and Faith is lured into the heart of the island of Forio's exclusive international film festival not as guest, but crasher. Hollywood's premiere publicist Hunter Jameson has more than enough on his plate when his client, English film sensation Alex Winslow decides he's departing from the straight and narrow. One American party crasher should be the least of his worries. He has no idea that Alex’s growing feelings for Faith rival his own. The only thing for certain is his life will never be the same.

Bio:

Christine London was born in Chicago, Illinois, but left the long winters of the Midwest as a child to find her roots in the sun and charm of California, both North and South. Her adopted home became Great Britain when she spent a year of college in the east end of London with three male flat mates; one from each country on the main island. Her fascination and love affair with all things British has grown over the years, facilitated by summers spent trading houses.
 

Graduating from Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, Chris continued with family, teaching, singing in a jazz sextet and running foot races (and winning) before discovering her true passion….the romance and adventure of writing.
It took one Scot to awaken her poetic appreciation of Scotland's natural beauty, and another Scot to ignite her passion for writing. Thank you, gentlemen.

Meet Sue Roebuck! My Next Guest On Our Awe-struck Author Tour!

Hi Regan and thank you so much for having me today on Regan Taylor’s World. It’s great that we’re fellow Awe-Struck authors and I’m so enjoying this blog tour.

You gave me the chance to go back in time and meet one person and then asked who I’d like to meet and what I’d ask him or her about my latest work in progress.

I thought about this for ages because there are just so many people I’d like to speak to who are from the past. I can’t say I need to talk to anyone about my novel “Perfect Score” because although it’s set in the 1960’s and 70’s I was alive then and feel I got information pretty straight (excuse the pun). I currently have two works in progress – one a Novella called Hewhay Hall that will soon be on the market, but that’s a dark thriller. My full-length novel, When the Moon Fails, is set mostly in Portugal and harks back to an era before the Revolution (1974). I wouldn’t mind talking to a revolutionary – especially one who was imprisoned by the Secret Police (PIDE) during the difficult times. But no I won’t go there just yet.

Who I’d really really like to talk to is my Dad.

When I was a kid, my Dad was omniscient, infallible. Just there. Then when I was a hormone-fueled teenager, full of angst, thoughts of boys, and negatives, I didn’t think too much about him at all. Oh dear, that sounds terrible and makes me teary.

Since his death I’ve found out so much about him, yet – at the same time - have so little information. And that’s why I’d love to speak to him now. I want to know just who my father was.

He was only sixteen when the WWII broke out, and – probably by lying about his age – joined the Royal Air Force. Throughout the War, right to the end, he flew on the Lancaster bombers and a Dutch friend of mine who is a Navy officer and who saw my father’s log-books was astounded that he survived so many flying missions.

I do know my father had some hairy times. His Lancaster was caught in enemy fire one night and the wing caught fire. The crew carried knives in their socks because they’d rather kill themselves than be caught. But the pilot had two options – to try and limp to Sweden or to put the plane into a steep dive. He chose the latter and succeeded in extinguishing the fire so they managed to get back to England.

That’s my Dad I’m talking about – I’m so amazed because he was such a quiet, gentle man who never spoke about his experiences. I’ve seen photographs of him in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) – where he went on a troop ship on which conditions were abysmal and which was constantly under threat of being torpedoed. In the sunny photos he looks so happy and relaxed, posing with other officers, leaning against a Jeep and holding a mongoose.

How I’d love to know more about this wonderful man. Perhaps one day I’ll find a way of discovering something and then I’ll write a book about it.

A huge coincidence is that I work with two British women whose fathers were also in Ceylon with the RAF at exactly the same time as my father. But, like me, they’ve lost their fathers and their stories with them.

A friend who is an RAF Wing Commander at the moment with NATO saw my father’s portrait photo taken during the War and in which he’s wearing his uniform. After studying the photo for some time, my friend said, “Those were the boys who really knew how to go through it.”

Now onto literary matters!

“Perfect Score” (http://www.awe-struck.net/books/perfect_score.html) was published first as an e-book in Sept 2010 and then as a trade paperback in May 2010 and has been receiving great reviews.

Here’s a short excerpt:

Spring 1968

The wind blew straight off the frozen prairie and rattled the ill-fitting window panes in his hut. Sam opened one eye. Five am. Don't ask him how he knew. It wasn't the owl hoot, or the coyote yip, or the creek ice splitting, or even the cattle coughing that gave it away because these noises were constant throughout the night. He just knew it was time to get up.

He rolled out from under the warmth of an old moth-eaten wolf pelt and, without bothering to light his paraffin lamp, pulled on jeans and a stiff-with-wear plaid work-shirt. He laced up scruffy, ancient leather boots before finishing it all off with a green wool jacket.

I'll block those holes with creek mud, he thought as the wind whistled through the gaps in the raw-wood plank walls. He put his shoulder to the door. Oil for that too -- maybe Josh Pike had some in the barn.

He'd hardly put his left foot outside when snow seeped through a hole in the boot sole. Standing on one leg, he broke the ice in his ceramic sink, splashed the small amount of water pooled there on his face and drank a handful.

Six hours of shoveling hay and muck, he thought as his boots rang on the iced-up alkali path leading to the main yard. A Canadian goose hooted a teasing honk. Laugh all you want, birdie, Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. At least I'm not up to my butt in freezing water. Just my left foot. His hair blown horizontal, he bent into the biting wind and squinted through stinging hail as three yellow cow dogs rushed up the path, their tails whirling, breath white and freezing on their whiskers.  

"Can't find a darn cow dog when I want one," he'd heard Josh Pike complain the previous day.

"That's because they're always with the boy," Mrs. Pike responded. "Sam."

"But I feed 'em."

"Animals love Sam because he has such a kind face and everyone knows amber eyes make the animals feel lucky."

"Never heard such a load of horse poop in all my life," Josh Pike muttered, his eyes skimming his land.

The Pike place had pretensions to be a ranch but Sam didn't think it quite made it. Divided into three sections: a creek, steep terrain and some disordered pastures lying in a flood plain, the property bordered the much larger Raw Pines ranch next door. Josh Pike told Sam he'd worked the land for twenty years but, as far as Sam could see, with little to show for it except the old man's love for the place which was as rigid as the winter weather: driving stinging snowstorms that stank of rusty nails. And a wind that could blow a calf over.

Three hours later, the range in the distance just visible across the frozen prairie, Sam removed his jacket, hung it on a gate post and pondered his next task.

He took a closer look at the steer lying on its side, kicking its legs and bellowing as if Sam was about to knife it. Can't have been easy forcing your darned head through the rails in the fence, he mentally told it. He rolled his sleeves up, picked up an axe and got to work on the fence rail with several powerful swings, taking care not to jolt the animal's head.

"Cain't you smell that good air?" Josh Pike had clambered onto a section of the fence, unaware or uncaring that he was tossed up a few inches every time the axe hit the rail. He raised his weathered face to the watery sun with all the pleasure and leisure of a sunbather on a distant beach. "Have to punch the bastard to get him in the chute." He nodded at the struggling steer, his words jarring with each blow of the axe. "Yet he done puts his head through the fence happy as a flea. Takes some beatin' huh?"

Sam had no breath for words but Pike continued undeterred. "HBetcha we could show them folks you worked with in Silver Creek a thing or two, eh boy? On how to run a cattle ranch. Betcha learned more up here in this month than you did in the three years you were down there. Eh?" He leaned closer to Sam, his face alight as he waited for Sam's affirmative. "Eh?"

"Near…nearly," Sam gasped, referring to the fence.

With one final massive blow, the axe-head wobbled as it finally split the fence rail. Sam kicked at the steer's rump to encourage it up and watched it skitter back to the herd, still bellowing its woes.

"You reckon you could slaughter beef?"

"If…if I have to."

The old man nodded as if satisfied with the answer. "Make some people weep. So pretty."

Sam rubbed his hand over his face. Like so many conversations in his life, this one made no sense at all. Why was the old man leaping from subject to subject like a demented grasshopper? And what was pretty? The back end of the rapidly retreating steer or a slaughtered cow?

"The view," Josh Pike explained although Sam hadn't voiced his question. The old man nodded at the distant range where the peaks were shining pink like his bald pate. "And you know little guys like us can."

Sam raised his eyes to the gun-metal grey sky above them. Can what? Sam was the first to admit that even on a good day his own mind was at best in total disarray but it wasn't in the chaos Josh Pike's evidently was.

"Cry. Cry at the view." Josh spoke as if explaining to a first grader. "Little guys get away with it. Betcha bawled when you left your family in Silver Creek. Eh?"

Bawled? Cry? Sam stared at the farm owner in disbelief. Sure he'd been sorry to leave -- Silver Creek held all he loved. But cry? Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. When did he last cry? He wracked his brains.

My blog: http://lauracea.blogspot.com

Twitter: @suemonte

Facebook: sueroebuck

Introducing Ann Tracy Marr

Our blog tour continues with my guest this week Ann Tracy Marr.  She writes about one of my absolute favorites -- Merlin! But with a very unique twist. Come and learn a bit more about my friend.

A longtime fan of Regency romance novels, Ann Tracy Marr spends her time dreaming of the perfect world--England's Regency era interwoven with the best of King Arthur's Camelot and Merlin's magic. Ann is a wife, mother, and computer consultant, fixing the stubborn beasts and teaching people how to tame them. Her background includes a college major in English and secretarial work, which she thankfully escaped.

To His Mistress, the third novel in Marr’s Banshee series, will appear in paperback October 25th.

Ann and I talked recently and she greeted me with -- Welcome to another week of kids back in school. Hip hip hooray for freedom. Kick back and relax; the grocery store can wait. You have earned a day of peace and quiet. 

 

I am Ann Tracy Marr, writer of a paranormal Regency romance series, and guest blogger for Regan Taylor today. I hope Regan is taking a break, but I bet she has her fingers tied to the keyboard. Regan has tremendous drive and the talent to back her up… she is a writer to keep track of. This week she is writing Sharon Poppen's blog: http://poppensthoughtsonwritingandstuff.blogspot.com/

The kids will come home eventually, so let’s get down to business. Regan asked me to answer a question: You have the chance to go back in time and meet one person. Who do you go to meet and what do you ask him or her about your latest work in progress? 

 

One person? Only one? Gee, let me think. I could track down Jesus, check if his beard is the way artists portray it, and ask… No, not Jesus. I don’t have the courage to ask him about a Regency romance. If I had written The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I could ask about life, the universe and everything, but the only thing I can ask Jesus is if I deserve to be on the New York Times Bestseller list. He probably wouldn’t answer.

So let’s go with the obvious. Picking any one person to consult about my Regency WIP, I would find Jane Austen and ask her if my plots ring true in Regency reality. Did I make any mistakes? If anyone knows about the Regency, it’s Jane Austen. She wrote Pride and Prejudice; she wore those fantastic long dresses and ate syllabub.

Unfortunately, I have a nagging suspicion that Jane would object vociferously to the paranormal aspect of my Regency romances. You see, in my Regencies, King Arthur is history. Arthur lived, built Camelot, and argued with Merlin. Then he died, Merlin disappeared, and life kept on living. Eventually, life got to the Regency era and while it’s mostly the way Jane Austen lived, there are a few differences in my books.

First, I have a lot more knights roaming around London; they have to sit at the Round Table and do all the things Parliament did for Jane Austen’s Britain because the Round Table rules the Isles. Then again, Jane might not care about knights or the government. She didn’t have anything to do with all those dukes and earls that populate most Regency romances. She mingled with plain Misters and Misses.

Do you suppose Jane would object to men saying “Bloody crystal cave” when they get mad, instead of “Bloody hell”? Because in my paranormal Regency world, people would rather swear to Arthur than to God. For some reason, that is the most obvious manifestation of a change in history. Thinking about it, it would be a waste of a question. Jane would object to any kind of swearing. 

 

I know Jane would approve of Sarah Frampton, the heroine of my next book, Keeper of the Grail. Sarah and Jane have quite a bit in common. Neither is a raving beauty and both do what needs doing to keep their families on an even keel. Of course, Jane’s family is a lot more stable than Sarah’s. Jane’s father isn’t an opium user, her sister isn’t a spoiled brat, and her brother didn’t steal the family’s valuable Fra Angelico painting. And proper Regency Jane would leave finding the painting to the menfolk, rather than looking for it herself, as Sarah does. 

 

Jane would like my hero, Sir Sloane Johnstone, knight or no knight. I can’t imagine anyone disliking Sloane. He’s that kind of guy. And underneath the easy-to-get-along-with exterior, Sloane hides a swashbuckling streak that would give any woman a thrill, Jane included.

You know what? If I could ask Jane Austen a question, I wouldn’t ask her about my WIP. What I really want to know is: 

 

Is it true that people kept a chamber pot in the dining room? Did anyone use it during dinner? Why? 

 

Jane would slam the door in my face.

~~~

Ann Tracy Marr writes award-winning paranormal Regency romances. Her books include: Thwarting Magic, Round Table Magician, and To His Mistress. Her latest, Keeper of the Grail, is in the works. A computer consultant in the Midwest, Marr lives with her husband, two cats, and plots that bounce off the wall. 

 

Visit her at www.anntracymarr.com

Buy her books at http://www.awe-struck.net/authors/ann_tracy_marr.html

My Blog Tour Guest This Week is Jennifer Cloud!

Jennifer and I are co-authors of Her Eyes, due out this fall with Awe-struck. More important she is one of my closest friends and some-time critic partner.

I asked her if she could go back in time to meet someone, anyone, and ask them about her current work in progress who would she go see, what would she ask them and what did she think they would say. Here's what she had to say:

I supposed with that sort of question I should come up with someone cool. Perhaps some long ago writer. Maybe I could talk to Hemingway or Fitzgerald. Catch an early Stephen King for his opinions on my work. Maybe I could talk to Lovecraft or Edgar Allan Poe.

I guess I could get religious and find out exactly what Jesus would do.

None of those came to mind when I first considered your question.I know this sounds incredibly dorky. The first person who came to mind was my grandmother. She died before ever reading a thing I've written. She was an avid reader too. I remember the wall behind her
bed being filled with books. They were stacked on the floor and went halfway up the wall like some bizarre decor. She read some horror but I seem to remember the old styled romance covers. You know the ones.

They were not so lovingly referred to as bodice rippers. She would fold back the pages and doze off with a book in one hand a a Kool cigarette in the other. She could be frightening when she had that cigarette. The ashes would get horribly long and usually fall before
ever getting close to an ashtray.

My grandmother was awesome. I always wanted to impress her although she never acted like I had to try. She would rent bad B horror VHS tapes for my cousins and myself to watch. She would order pizzas and sit right there with us no matter how bad the movie was.

I would love for her to read some of my work and give me her opinion. I'm sure it wouldn't be an honest one. She was biased when it came to her grandchildren. I would still love to know what she thought. I know she would've told me to go after my dreams.

You can learn more about Jennifer at www.Jennifercloud.com!

Welcome to Jana Richards!

I recently had a chance to chat with my friend Jana and one of the things I was curious about was if she had the chance to go back in time and meet one person. Who would she want to meet and what would you ask about your latest work in progress?

Here's what she had to say to me:

That’s a good question, Regan! Mostly I write contemporary, but lately I’ve delved into history and discovered a passion for the World War Two era. I find this time period ripe with stories, both on the battlefront and on the home front.

One of my works in progress is called “Twice in a Lifetime”. In this story, Frank Brennan is given a second chance at love. An angel shows up in his nursing home room claiming to be able to take him back in time, to 1944 in Plymouth, England. It was here Frank experienced, and lost, the love of his life.  Even after all these years he is still bitter over Claire’s betrayal. And he still mourns the death of his best friend Cal, who died in a training accident just before D-Day.  He accepts the angel’s offer, hoping he can save Cal this time around. Can Frank change history or is his attitude the only thing he can truly change? As he relives the events of 1944, Frank discovers new insights into old tragedies. He also discovers a love for Claire even stronger than he remembers. But unless he learns to trust that love, Frank is doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past.

If I could go back in time to Plymouth, England in 1944, there wouldn’t be just one person I’d want to meet, there would be many. I’d want to soak up the atmosphere of the time. I’d want to experience the fear and worry, as well as the excitement. It’s obvious why there would be fear and worry; there was a war on after all, and Plymouth experienced its own blitz in the early days of the war. Everyone was worried about family or friends fighting in the conflict. But there was excitement because everyone was pulling together for a common goal; to win the war.

There was also excitement created by the arrival of thousands of Allied soldiers onto English soil. Many English girls were swept off their feet by dashing American soldiers. I would love to go to a dance with a group of young English girls like Claire, and dance the night away with a handsome soldier like Frank. What would that dance hall look like? What kind of music was played? I’d want to know what Claire’s life was like during the war. Was she scared? How did she manage with all the shortages? What did she think of having her city taken over by American troops? I’d want to know details about how life carried on during a time of war.

And then I’d want to ask Frank about his training with the First Battalion of the 116^th Infantry of the 29^th Division. Why did he sign up? What did their camp outside of Plymouth look like? Was he afraid of the upcoming invasion or did he believe it was part of his duty? Did he think he was going to die?

I’d want to immerse myself in Frank and Claire’s world so I could understand the things they faced. By understanding that, I’d have a better insight into their motivations. I’d know what made them tick.

Thanks for having me with you today, Regan! I’m looking forward to hosting you on my blog in the near future.

If you are curious about Jana, here she is in her own words:

Jana Richards has tried her hand at many writing projects over the years, from magazine articles and short stories to full-length paranormal suspense and romantic comedy.  She loves to create characters with a sense of humor, but also a serious side.  She believes there’s nothing more interesting then peeling back the layers of a character to see what makes them tick.

When not writing up a storm, working at her day job as an Office Administrator, or dealing with ever present mountains of laundry, Jana can be found on the local golf course pursuing her newest hobby.

Jana lives in Western Canada with her husband Warren, along with two university aged daughters and a highly spoiled Pug/Terrier cross named Lou. You can reach her through her website at http://www.janarichards.net

You can find me on the web at http://www.janarichards.net  I blog weekly at http://janarichards.blogspot.com on topics of writing and the writer’s life. 

And for a fun sample of her writing:

For the first time since her husband’s death, Hannah Kramer can imagine herself with another man.  But then she discovers the truth about Quinn Anderson’s reason for staying at the bed and breakfast at her farm.  He’s there to buy farmland from her cash-strapped friends and neighbors and resell it to foreign buyers.  How can she love a man bent on destroying the way of life she loves?  Will Quinn convince her that he wants to build her community, not destroy it?  Can he make her believe he loves her before time runs out in September?

READY, SET, FALL READING!

So a group of my fellow authors from Awe-struck and Mundania and I were talking not long ago about our different genres and checking out some super reads. In chatting we found out some interesting things about each other and decided it was time to take our show on the road. Starting September 4, for 8 weeks, 8 of us will be opening the doors to our virtual worlds and real life minds to talk about writing, reading and our books. Come on along and meet some of my friends: Each week we'll be chatting with a different author and aspects of our writing.  

Jennifer Cloud - http://www.myspace.com/cloudjennifer/blog 

Ann Tracy Marr - http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/group.php?gid=56438417580

Susan Roebuck - http://lauracea.blogspot.com 

Christine London - http://christinelondon.blogspot.com

Sharon Poppen - http://poppensthoughtsonwritingandstuff.blogspot.com 

Skyla Dawn Cameron - www.skyladawncameron.com/blog 

Regan Taylor - http://regantaylorsworld.blogspot.com 

Jana Richards - http://janarichards.blogspot.com

Check in with me on September 4 when I talk with Jana Richards!

WE DIDN'T GET TO SAY GOODBYE BUT I GOT TO SAY HELLO

Recently a close friend of mine died. It was totally unexpected and myriad emotions have been going through all of us that knew her. More than just the five stages of grief. This is different for many of us for many reasons.

Debi was the first of our friends to pass. Despite a recent comment she made that she was 61 and had lived a full life, we wanted that life to be fuller, longer. She was one of those people who was there for anyone who needed her, always volunteering--generally the first in line--and giving her all. As a community services officer with the local police department for 29 years she touched so many lives. And for all she gave to anyone who needed one of her special gifts, she still had a strong sense of herself--who she was and what she needed to make herself happy. Towards the end we missed the signs that she was making a final decision. No, she didn't hurt herself. She wasn't that way -- as I said, she had a strong sense of self.

There have been debates for ages on whether a person wants the time to say goodbye or if a quick, sudden death is better. Debi, as was her nature, found the middle ground--sort of.

She was a cat person, devoted to her two kitties who lived into their 20's. When they died a few weeks apart from each other, she was devastated. Can people are usually open to adopting a new kitty--she didn't.

She was forced into retirement a little over a year ago. She wasn't ready to leave her job. It was her life, her way of giving, giving and giving. I was concerned because she made no plans. There were no back up options. That concerned me, but she passed it by.

Earlier this year she started going to her doctor who essentially blew her off saying it was depression. We were stunned a few short -- too short weeks ago -- that she had metastic pancreatic cancer. She was told -- and relayed to us -- she had 6-9 months. True to form she said she would make them the best of her life. We -- her friends who connected through a vast network -- began to plan for at least 6 months to share laughter, life and love with her. I think we were all so shocked that this woman who so totally embraced life could have something like this happen to her. I know I was, and am, still so angry at her doctor for not listening, not doing tests sooner, for not saving my friend. Many of us are angry for that.

Debi made plans the past few weeks and kept them--she had her nails and hair done, spent time with family and talked about her anticipation for chemo. The day before she was due to start it, she took a turn for the worse and died. This was Debi -- the end result would have been the same and so she chose to go out on a high note -- at least while she was relatively functional.

And there we were, thinking we had six months to share with her, and just like that she was gone. We didn't get to say goodbye.

But many of us had something more important than saying goodbye -- we had the chance of a lifetime -- we had the chance to say hello to a remarkable person. We had the chance to share a piece of the life of someone so incredible, so giving, so unique. I miss her so much, even though I haven't seen her in a few months, I miss her so much. She was always going to be there, there was always going to be time to laugh and talk and hug. There was always going to be time to say thank you for being my friend.

There wasn't time. I didn't get to say what a wonderful friend she was.

But Debi left a priceless legacy -- she left her friends. Friends like me who knew her. Friends who shared moments in a life well lived. We share memories of things we did with her. We now have each other to fill in the hole left by Debi's passing.

I didn't get to say goodbye -- but I was blessed to have had the chance to say hello to a wonderful, once in a lifetime friend.

Welcome Mary Martinez

Regan has asked me a simple question today. If I had the opportunity to go back in time to consult with one person for my latest WIP, who would it be and why?



I had to think long and hard for this, because there are so many greats. I’d love to talk to Charles Dickens. Most of his work gave a hard look at the working class and society of his time, dark and heavy, Hard Times or A Tale of Two Cities. On the other hand, he wrote Oliver Twist and A Christmas Carol. What a great mind. I’d love to sit down and have tea with him. Ask him what he would write if he were alive today.


However, then I thought why Charles? Actually, I’d love to sit down with William Shakespeare, J. R. R. Tolkien or Leo Tolstoy. How awesome would it be to have a round table discussion with these great authors? Ask them how their thought process was when researching a subject.


All of them had great imaginations to entertain us. Mostly I’d love to ask them what motivated them, was it some force that made them need to tell a story? Did they have something to say? Did they plot out every chapter? Or did they fly by the seat of their pants?


So many questions I have for them. But I still haven’t answered Regan’s question. If I could consult on my latest WIP with one of them, who would it be? I would take the round table discussion, because I truly cannot pick one of the other. I would ask William what or who inspired his plays.


I would ask all of them what advice they would give me. What mistakes did they make that they would tell other writers not to do?


As you can tell, I really would be awestruck meeting such men and wouldn’t know what to ask when it came right down to it.



 

Thank you for having me as a guest on your blog Regan, I hope I didn’t babble too much and bore everyone to death.






If anyone is interested, here are a few places you can find me.


Web site: www.marymartinez.com


Garden Blog: http://marysbooksblogger.blogspot.com/


Twitter: http://twitter.com/marylmartinez


Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/mlmartinez33

A Letter Across the Rainbow Bridge

My Dearest Miss Molly, my Baby Girl

I write you today from my side of the Rainbow Bridge. A place I stood a year ago today with great sadness. Even a year later it hurts as much as it did that sad, sad day when I helped you cross the bridge. It was the saddest day of my life. I would do anything to have you back in my life.

For 22 years you were there beside me, through good times and bad, happy and sad, lean and financially stable, boyfriends and breakups, you were the quiet, loving presence beside me. When you got sick you were stalwart and through five years of medications and sub-q fluids you never complained but took it all in stride. I think you know that we did what we could to not only keep you alive but give you a good quality and happy life. To say it has been hard without you would be an understatement. At times I wondered how I would get through each event without your constant presence because you had faithfully sat by me through each change in my life for so long.

Good things happened like we finally got our mortgage modified -- Mel will always have a stable home.  Missy and Bogie came into our lives -- Mel isn't too fond of Missy -- even with some of your traits, she isn't you. And Bogie, he's a feral and while he's come a long way, he still runs from people. At least he has a home where he is safe and has plenty of food, water and love.

And not so good things happened -- in September last year the doctors found a blood clot in my leg and a pulmonary embolism. If I hadn't dreamt of you that September morning I would never have gone to the hospital. While if I had not gone I would have crossed the bridge to be with you, Mel, Missy and Bogie would not have their mommy. There was no doubt you looked out for me across the bridge from there to here.

A car accident, the end of the furloughs at work, new friends, good times with old ones, betrayals from other -- it would have all been easier and better if you were still here. New book contracts, one that will star you soon, new stories on the horizon.

Changes at work making it better -- no drama these days and it's good, so much better. I work with a number of cat people and you know how special we are.

But still, life without you just isn't the same. There is still a huge hole in my heart that can't be filled. I miss you baby girl and not a day goes by I don't with I could hold you one more time. Thank you for the gift of your time in my life; thank you for saving mine last year. Sleep well little Princess. Mommy will always love you.

Welcome to Anne K. Albert

Anne K. Albert has taught high school art, sold display advertising for a small town weekly newspaper, and worked for a national brand water company, but now writes full time.

A member of the Romance Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and married to her high school sweetheart for more than a quarter of a century, it's a given she'd write mystery and romantic suspense.

When not in her home office, she enjoys traveling, visiting friends and family, knitting, crocheting, and of course, reading.

Regan –How would you describe your series to someone who has not read any of your previous novels?

Anne - The Muriel Reeves Mysteries is a series of ‘gentle” mysteries that focus on crimes that take place around a special date on the calendar. Tied in with the festivities are the antics of Muriel’s eccentric but lovable family. My books chill the spine, warm the heart and soothe the soul – all with a delightful touch of humor.

Regan - What inspired you to write your first book?

Anne - The sad truth is a few years ago the neighbor from hell moved in next door. It was an ugly situation, made all the worse by the ever present police cruisers who were monitoring the situation. I’d had a particularly bad day, and decided I needed a good laugh and a diversion as I hadn’t written in such a long time. To be honest, I wondered if I even remembered how to write. Still, I placed my fingertips on the keyboard and FRANK, INCENSE AND MURIEL was born. It took me about five months to write the book from start to finish, and it was a godsend for my sanity. As for that horrid neighbor? He moved away shortly after we did!

Regan – Did you have to do any research, and if so, how?

Anne – I used and continue to use Google for just about everything I need to research. It’s an amazing resource and always at my fingertips.

Regan - Tell us about your book.

Anne – FRANK, INCENSE AND MURIEL is set the week before Christmas when the stress of the holidays is enough to frazzle anyone’s nerves. Tensions increase when a close friend begs Muriel to team up with a sexy private investigator to find a missing woman. Forced to deal with an embezzler, kidnapper, and femme fatale is bad enough, but add Muriel’s zany yet loveable family to the mix and their desire to win the D-DAY (Death Defying Act of the Year) Award, and the situation can only get worse.

It received a 5-star review and Reviewer Top Pick from Night Owl Reviews. Reviewer Diana Coyle said, “Ms. Albert has a way of telling a story that pulls you in from the very first sentence and holds your attention to the very last line. If you’re looking for a story with a little bit of humor, a whole lot of suspense and plenty of insanity, then you’ve found the perfect story.”

Regan - Where can readers get a copy of your book?

Anne: It’s available in e-book format now at Amazon, http://www.amazon.com/Frank-Incense-and-Muriel-ebook/dp/B004CLYDRO/

Barnes and Noble, http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Frank-Incense-and-Muriel/Anne-K-Albert/e/2940011142123/ Smashwords, http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/30192

or from my publisher, Vanilla Heart Publishing. http://www.vanillaheartbooksandauthors.com The print edition will be released in July 2011.

Thank you so much, Regan, for hosting me on my third stop of the Murder We Write Blog Tour. I’d like to invite readers to visit my website http://www.AnneKAlbert.com/ or my main blog http://anne-k-albert.blogspot.com.

If they drop by my Muriel Reeves Mysteries blog http://muriel-reeves-mysteries.blogspot.com and leave a comment mentioning this interview, I’ll enter their name in a draw to win a pdf copy of FRANK, INCENSE AND MURIEL. I’ll announce the winner at the conclusion of the tour, sometime during the week of August 22, 2011.