Writing – Page 4 – Nomad Authors Blog

Research Discoveries #MFRWauthor

Generally, I love doing research for books. Since I write contemporary romance (mostly), I usually only have to research towns where my characters live, street names and store locations and such, if I’m trying to keep it real. But I have written few historical romances, too, and for those, research becomes a little harder. And more interesting in a lot of ways.

Take for example a WIP time travel book. The time/location is 1903, North Carolina Outer Banks, right when the Wright brothers were testing out their flying skills. One of the things I learned was that the Outer Banks held very independent views about the world than the rest of North Carolina, possibly because of the amount of trading ships that came by. They were exposed to broader viewpoints. During the Civil War, they were not especially all excited to fight for the South, and the North found a safe port there. Slavery—only profitable on large farms with people-intensive crops like tobacco and cotton—was not carried on much on those narrow strips of land jutting out into the ocean. I didn’t know most of that before I started researching my book.

In another book, I was able to gaze at maps of San Francisco to plan where I Research on the Internet wanted my heroine to live. I love maps and they are one of the things I research for most books.

The trouble with research is that it’s very easy to get sidetracked. You start looking up what the pioneers ate on the trek west, find out they ate rabbit, and suddenly find yourself reading about Beatrix Potter and her animals. Especially when researching online, it’s difficult to stay focused. In a library, with actual books, I used to be careful looking for particular Library research points. I still was easily distracted but not to where three clicks on a screen can take me to different universes, not just a small digression. Still, what did we do before the Internet?? I wouldn’t go back…

Is research been fun for you? Or is it a chore?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Mystic Desire: A collection of supernatural tales sure to keep you up at night, peering into the shadows! Or just wide awake, reading.
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

Happy Epilogues #MFRWauthor

I like epilogues. I write a lot of epilogues, too, probably because I like to read them. To me, they finish the book. It’s all well and good to have Heroine A say how much she loves Hero A and vice versa, but I like to see that Heroine A actually ends up with Hero A and not accidentally with Hero B. Did they marry? Have a passel of kids? Move to Timbuktu? Inquiring minds want to know. And that’s what an epilogue does for me.

The only negative I can see in an epilogue is if a reader likes to finish the book in their own imagination instead of having everything spelled out. They would be the kind of people who would like that movie trend a while Happily Ever After back where two endings were written and which happened was up to the viewer. Or the kind who want to envision their own version of the castle Cinderella and Prince Charming lived in—was it a condo on the beach at Malibu or more like the Biltmore House in North Carolina? When it comes to ending a romance, I prefer to know. I do enough imagining about stuff, like what I’m making for dinner—actual food or reservations. I don’t need to wonder about Cinderella’s living conditions. Give me a good epilogue any time!

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Mystic Desire: A collection of supernatural tales sure to keep you up at night, peering into the shadows! Or just wide awake, reading.
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

Cool, creative Callie Carmen caught in a Dream Catcher

Dream Catcher by Callie Carmen in Mystic Desire I’m so anxious for the Black Velvet Seductions supernatural anthology, Mystic Desire, to come out (October 1)! One reason is, I want to read Callie’s story, Dream Catcher!

NA: Welcome Callie! What genre would you consider your books to be?
CC: First, I’d like to thank Dee for having me on her blog today. I appreciate it. [My pleasure!]
My name is Callie Carmen, and I write contemporary romance, suspense romance, and most recently supernatural romance novels.

NA: How did you get interested in writing this particular genre?
CC: Until 2015 I hadn’t read a romance novel. One day while traveling in my car listening to the Diane Rym show she had on a guest author of Fifty Shades of Grey. I found the conversation interesting, so I picked up a copy of the book and read it. While I didn’t go in that direction after reading it I enjoyed it enough to try Lora Leigh’s Nauti Boys series, Lori Foster’s Love Undercover series. her Visitation series, and the Maya Banks KGI series, and that was it, I was hooked on reading romance. From there, I sat at my kitchen table one day and started writing my first novel, Patrick from my Risking Love series. I enjoyed writing it so much that I kept on going.

NA: How important are character names to you in your books? Is there a special meaning to any of the names?
CC: I have to laugh at that question. I had used a few relative’s names in my first novel The Enemy I Know as part of the Crave Loyalty Anthology, all of which were already deceased. But in my Risking Love series, I started out using a few family female names, two of which were my sister’s daughter’s names. She was having none of that. She said there is no way I want my daughters in a sex book. I explained it was a love story, and she could have cared less. I ended up changing their names. Since then, I only use names that are family members that have passed away so they can’t complain. Lol. Or names that I enjoy, like Jake the hero in my latest novel, Dream Catcher, from the Mystic Desire Supernatural Anthology.

NA: Tell me about your latest book.
CC: Dream Catcher is the story of two lonely people that put work ahead of their personal needs like finding their true love. But when each of them purchases a magical dream catcher made by a shaman, they find themselves falling in love with their soul mate. Unfortunately, their soul mate is only in their dreams.

This is just one of fourteen wonderful stories by talented authors that have joined together in the Mystic Desire Supernatural Romance Anthology. I just know all who read this novel will thoroughly enjoy it. Below you’ll find the blurbs for each of the fourteen stories. Check them out, and you’ll see why I think you’ll love this book.

Join the authors of Mystic Desire on Halloween for a chat, fun, games, & Mystic Desire Halloween Takeover! maybe win prizes.
SIGN UP HERE.

NA: What is the hardest part of writing for you?
CC: Believe it or not, the blurb on the back cover of the novel is torture for me. Taking a 250-page book, and turning it into three short paragraphs is next to impossible for me.

NA: What do you consider to be your best accomplishment?
CC: Finding my soul mate and having a loving, happy marriage for over thirty years. Having three caring children with him, that turned out to be good citizens and that work hard.

NA: What’s the best thing about being an author?
CC: All the friends you make in and out of the publishing world.

NA: Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
CC: In a smaller home, on a lake, writing. I’ll be sitting in a screened-in front porch while listening to the waves lap up against my dock.

NA: If you didn’t like writing books or weren’t any good at it, what would you like to do for a living?
CC: Well, that calls for two different answers. If I wasn’t any good at it, I’d take a few classes to learn how to do it right. Or I’d get a fantastic editor like Laurie Sanders to teach me what I needed to do to improve. But if I couldn’t write, I would want to be a book buyer for B&N. I used to work as a senior book buyer for the other large book chain that sadly is no longer in business. I loved that career.

NA: Do you read reviews of your book(s)? Do you respond to them, good or bad? How do you deal with the bad?
CC: I always read them, so that I can thank the writer for taking the time to read my book and to review it. Not that many of us are willing to write reviews so I appreciate them and feel the kind individual should be thanked.

I have skipped writing to two individuals that both gave me my only one ratings. One said she looked at the first page of Patrick and refused to read the book because there was a serial killer in the story. I had to laugh at the fact that she wrote the review stating that she hadn’t read it.

The other person read the first few pages which happened to be the serial killer’s point of view, and she decided she couldn’t continue reading the story because of the creepy serial killer. Even though she gave me a one rating, I took that as a compliment because he was supposed to be scary.

NA: Where did your love of books come from?
CC: Both my mother and father read every day. My father loved westerns and mystery novels. My mother loved fiction and took my siblings and me to the library often. She’d bring home a few novels for herself and piles of children’s books to read to us. I remember Barbar books being some of her favorite kid’s books. I enjoyed them too and read them to my own children. I loved that they were done in cursive writing. So many schools now don’t teach cursive, which is unfortunate because all of our original United States documents were written in cursive.

NA: Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite, and why?
CC: When I’m writing a novel, the main characters become my new favorites. So this is ever-changing.

At the moment, I’m crazy about Tony and Tessa from book four, Anthony. That man is the silent type except when it comes to the right woman. Then he has no problem letting her know exactly what he wants. He is also talented in the kitchen in more ways than one.

Tessa is a wealthy, but down to earth woman that would like nothing better than to play some football with all of her friends. She wants to be and independent, and a successful business owner to show her rich father she can do it on her own. And she loves making hot passionate love. The woman is hot to trot.

NA: Does writing energize or exhaust you?
CC: It’s not a curse; I love writing. Especially when I’m writing about things that have happened to me in my past. I have put on a bit of weight from the long hours of sitting at the computer writing, editing, and marketing my books on social media. So that’s a bit of a negative. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

NA: What is your writing Kryptonite?
CC: My eyes get tired after looking at the computer screen for too long. I end up falling asleep with my hands on the keys and waking to something that looks like this:
On my way homeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

That also happens to Jake in my, Dream Catcher, supernatural romance. He’s a successful romance author and spends a good deal of time at the computer. Once in a while, he falls asleep while writing. But he doesn’t mind because it gives him more time with his dream soul mate Angelica.

NA: What one piece of writing advice do you have for an aspiring author?
CC: This might not be advice that newer writers want to hear, but it is essential for you to be as successful as possible. Set up your social media sites right away. That means do it before you even finish your first book. That is not to say that it is ever too late to do. It just has to be done. If you don’t advertise to let people know about your book, how will they know that it exists? Once they are set up, advertise your books on a regular basis. Set up social media sites such as Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, Tumblr, Instagram, MeWe, Website, and Goodreads, to name a few. Pick three to start and master those before moving on to others, or you will be too overwhelmed.

Dream Catcher by Callie Carmen in Mystic Desire

Blurbs from all the author’s stories in the novel Mystic Desire.
The Sweetest Magic of All – Alice Renaud: When a sexy apprentice witch and a hot warlock go back in time to locate a magical amulet, they find more than they bargained for. It’s May Eve, the most magical night of the year, and normal rules don’t apply…
An Awareness of Evil – Dee S. Knight
Only two things stand between evil and a small girl: the visions of Amanda McMasters and Detective Brendan Gilchrist. Neither can afford to be wrong.
Bewitching the Wolf – Zia Westfield
The Witch, Alice Humphreys has poured her heart and soul into creating a magical B&B where guests experience the fantasy vacation of their dreams! Brodie MacEwan has been sent to investigate the mysterious death of his uncle. He never expected to discover his soul mate in his dreams. But is the illusion real? Alice knows that there is something all too predatory about the Scotsman and he makes her body tingle in places it shouldn’t!
Calling All Angels – Lora Logan
Elijah Baker, an immortal tasked with fighting against demons that exist on earth, finds peace when he meets his new neighbor, Celeste. But when he realizes that their love comes with a cost, he is faced with choosing between his calling and a chance at true love.
Dream Catcher – Callie Carmen
Long ago, a medicine man had made a matched set of dream catchers as a wedding gift to protect the Chief’s daughter and her warrior husband. He had called upon the benevolent spirits to keep the two soul mates safe and in a loving, healthy marriage. It was foretold that if the two dream catchers were ever divided the new owners would be drawn together as soul mates. Was that possible?
Life Saving – Anne Krist
Saving lives isn’t just for adults. Sometimes the innocent magic of a child can do the job better.
Love from the Mist – Patricia Elliott
When Jace Warden learns that his brother plans to announce his engagement at a family get together, he flees to the other side of the world to escape the joyous celebration.
Or at least attempts to… His plane never makes it, and he winds up trapped on an island. Little does he realize, he’s not alone; there’s a mischievous little entity milling about, and she wants to play.
Love Knows No Apocalypse – Patricia Elliott
Getting stranded in the middle of a storm was not Samantha Wheeler’s idea of an ideal situation, especially in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. But fighting zombies was the easy part; her heart, though, was a whole other matter. Thanks to a man named Steve Jones.
When they find themselves in danger, she has to decide what’s more important – dying for someone she loves or surviving.
Love that Binds – Carol Schoenig
On the outskirts of a small town where nothing grows, a young girl, Ianthee, is being bullied and accused of being a witch. Young Caleb, inexplicably drawn to Ianthee, comes to her rescue. Before they can explore their feelings, Caleb and his family disappear. What happened to him, and what part does a long-ago legend play in their lives?
Love’s Ghost – R.M. Olivia
“Sorry, babe. I know it hurts to hear.” John frowned. I’ll make this brief. I spoke to the man in charge and he is giving me one last chance.”
“Come again?”
“I’m allowed to make love to my wife one last time before I have to cross over. So, are you ready for your husband? Are you ready for me, Ingrid?” He lifted my chin up and ran his thumb along my lips. I felt a chill go down my spine. How could this be real? How could this be happening?
The Anniversary – Richard Savage
A cruel twist of fate wrenched Evelyn and Peter apart on their wedding anniversary. Evelyn’s life descends into darkness. James enters her life giving her a chance of happiness. Evelyn discovers a piece of jewelry, that has the power to grant her time with Peter on their anniversary. She adores James, but needs Peter. Can she ever really let Peter go, while there’s still a chance they can be together?
The Mortal Vampire – Suzanne Smith
Remy enjoys life as a vampire, never giving a thought to sucking every last drop of tasty blood out of his unfortunate victims and leaving them door nail dead. But his cold and carefree existence changes the day he crosses paths with the beautiful and mysterious mortal Angela.
Through the Veil – Jan Selbourne
A beautiful March day in 1875 ends in tragedy when the wagon carrying Helen and Marcus plunges down the mountainside. Generations pass before Rachel Finlay finds an old sepia photo of a man and woman. She knows them but she’s never met them and now, for the peace of mind she desperately craves, she goes back to where it began. In time, through the veil, knowing she may never return.
Unconditional Lust – Breanna Hayes
The massive, hideous merrow leader, Muruch, craves the taste of human flesh. Confined to the ocean, he feeds his horde with sailors from ships pulled into the maw of the Bermuda Triangle. When US Army Captain, Nurys Shaye, puts her life on the line to save him after being captured, his hunger for human flesh is shadowed by the desire for her body and her love. Will she be able to see past his appearance and trust him to break down her walls and teach her to feel?

Nicolas and Patrick: Risking Love series by Callie Carmen

Find out more about Callie Carmen’s books at:
PATRICK
NICOLAS
JOSEPH Coming Soon!
MYSTIC DESIRE
CRAVING LOYALTY

Dream Catcher by Callie Carmen in Mystic Desire Social Media Links:
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The fabulous Alice Renaud and Music for a Merman!

Alice Renaud is funny, talented, a supportive friend, and a wonderful writer. Jan and I loved her new book, Music for a Merman! Music for a Merman is Book 2 in Alice’s Sea of Love romance series, and is on pre-release sale right now. You might also like to read Alice’s interview for A Merman’s Choice, Book 1 in the Sea of Love series.

Interview:

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
AR: I grew up in Brittany, western France, in a village by the sea. I return there most summers. As in other seaside resorts, the local policemen double up as lifeguards. So they could be breaking up a riot in the morning and rescuing swimmers in the afternoon. I thought it would be fun to write a romance with such a cop-lifeguard as hero. But then I turned away from contemporary romance and started writing fantasy romance instead. After writing the first book in my Sea of Love series, A Merman’s Choice, I was casting around for characters for my second book. I remembered the lifeguards on the beach who were also cops, and the idea of Rob Regor came to me. A shape shifting merman who is also a policeman. Then I imagined him arresting a woman and falling in love with her, and Charlie, the heroine, was born.

NA: What sort of research did you do to write this book?
AR: Rob is a cop and arrests Charlie. I don’t have any personal experience of that situation, so I had to do research on what happens when someone is arrested and spends the night in a cell. I am indebted to my critique partner who watches a lot of cop shows, and helped me correct a lot of inaccuracies!

NA: A fun fact about writing your book.
AR: The scene where Rob and Charlie first make love is the hottest scene I’ve written so far. He’s in his aquatic (merman) shape, so I had to think through how different he would be from a human, and how Charlie would react to that. She quite likes it, as it turns out, but you’ll have to read the book to find out more!

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?
AR: I work full time as compliance officer for a pharmaceutical company, which couldn’t be more different from the stuff I write. I like it that way – I escape from one world into another, and back again. When someone at work really annoys me, I imagine them as a monster in one of my books. It helps. It does mean I don’t have as much time to write as I would like though.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
AR: Most of my friends are a bit puzzled by it, but generally supportive. My husband is magnificently supportive, without him I couldn’t do any of it.

NA: The biggest surprise you had after becoming a writer
AR: I am amazed by how supportive other authors are. It’s wonderful, I feel I have joined a community of friends and I am so grateful to all my author friends, especially the other BVS authors, like Dee and Jan!

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
AR: Hearing from a reader that they have loved my book, or getting a good review. It is such a wonderful feeling to know that my stories are enjoyed by people who could be on the other side of the world.

NA: Do you have quirky writing habits?
AR: I can’t write without tea, and it’s got to be the strong stuff. Yorkshire Gold is my favourite. It’s so dark, the teabag turns the water the colour of mahogany after 2 seconds. It’s what we call in the UK “builder’s tea.” It has to be in my Harry Potter mug, not because I draw inspiration from J. K. Rowling’s creations, but because it’s the only one big enough. It’s almost half a pint.

NA: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
AR: Reading, and watching TV, particularly historical and fantasy shows. I also love birdwatching, and going to parks. Regent’s Park in London is my favourite. My son likes feeding the ducks, swans and geese.

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have on?
AR: It was clean, partially ironed, and sort of went with the blue trousers I’d already selected.

NA: What errand/chore do you despise the most?
AR: I don’t like shopping for clothes, especially trousers. I hardly ever wear skirts or dresses, but I’m very short so no trousers ever fit, they all have to be shortened. I only shop for trousers once or twice a year, I take my mum and we go for tea and cake afterwards, that way it’s bearable.

NA: Strangest place you’ve brushed your teeth?
AR: The beach, after staying up all night on New Year’s Eve to watch the sun rise over the sea. These days I’m usually asleep before the fireworks start.

NA: What are you working on now?
AR: I am working on the third book in the Sea of Love series, Mermaids Marry in Green. It’s about a feisty mermaid called Caltha, who travels to London to help a warlock save the city from a water monster. Of course, she falls in love with him! I would also like to write more short stories. I have a short story in the BVS supernatural romance anthology Mystic Desire, which is on pre order now. The story, The Sweetest Magic of All, is about an apprentice witch and a hot warlock who go back in time to locate a magical amulet, and find more than they bargained for! It was great fun to write.

NA: What did you enjoy most about writing this book?
AR: The heroine, Charlie, is sassy and confident, more so than the heroine of my first book. I enjoyed writing her and her banter, and her sexually charged relationship with Rob. I think my heroines are getting spunkier and spunkier – Caltha, in my third book, is properly kick-ass!

Music for a Merman by Alice Renaud

Music for a Merman blurb:
Rob Regor knew that humans were trouble. All the shape shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands knew it. And human women were double trouble… especially when they were lying on the road in front of a digger.
Rob has a mission. Go to the mainland. Work as a policeman. Spy on humans. Report back to his father, the head of the Regor Merman Clan. It should be easy. Until he has to arrest Charlie. Rob can’t fight his attraction to the sexy eco-warrior, and it puts him on one hell of a collision course with his family and his Clan. Will he break the rules – or break her heart, and his?

Love ‘em and leave ‘em, that was Charlie’s motto. It had served her well until now. But Rob is different… Can she open up her heart to Rob – when a secret buried in her past surfaces and changes her completely?

Excerpt:

Music for a Merman by Alice Renaud Charlie clambered over the rocks and was soon looking down at the small cove, sparkling blue and gold under the descending sun. The haunting song grew louder the closer she got to the sea. Now it seemed to be outside her head, rising from the peaceful water below to weave its magic around her. The meaning shimmered, just beyond the edge of her comprehension. It was like trying to read words reflected in a mirror. If she could only break the surface of the glass, enter the other side, she’d understand it fully.

But in some obscure way, she knew that the melody spoke of love. Sexual, passionate love. And it was doing something to her. Heat was building up, deep inside her belly. She swore, in a vain attempt to let it out. “Bloody Rob!” He’d got her all worked up, and now she couldn’t calm down.

Cold water and exercise would help. She half-climbed, half-slid down the slippery rocks and hit the sand with a thud. The music sounded as though it was coming from the waves.

It couldn’t be. Maybe the stress of the past day had given her tinnitus. She’d read about it. People heard noises, or even melodies, in their head, and couldn’t get rid of them. She took off her shorts and T-shirt and placed them on a rock, weighing them down with her sandals. After a moment’s hesitation, she took off her swimsuit too. No one would see her, and she loved skinny-dipping. Nothing would come between her and the sea tonight.

The breeze glided across her body but failed to soothe the persistent thrumming at the apex of her thighs. She stepped into the surf, bracing herself for the usual Atlantic chill, but it didn’t come. The water was warm, almost like the Mediterranean. She immersed herself up to her neck. Joy broke through her gloom and lifted her mood just as a wave lifted her and bore her towards the small wooded island in the middle of the cove. A few lazy strokes were all she needed to stay afloat. The water enveloped her in its embrace, stroking her from her shoulders to her toes, as if the whole ocean wanted to make love to her.

The eerie song was growing louder and clearer by the minute. With an almighty jolt she understood that it was real. She wasn’t hallucinating. The enchanting melody was coming from the other side of the islet! Excitement surged, short-circuiting all other emotions. Something was there, just beyond her sight. Something beautiful and magical.

She swam up to the island and followed the sandy shore towards the heavenly sound. Some deep, mysterious instinct told her that she had nothing to fear from this being. It meant her no harm. Quite the contrary.

Luck was on her side. A fallen tree, half submerged in the water, provided the perfect cover. The anticipation blazed so high inside her, it made her mouth go dry. She grabbed the trunk and hauled herself up to peep through the branches.

A black, glistening animal swam in circles, just a few yards away. A porpoise? But the shape was wrong. A fin broke the surface. No, not a fin, an arm! Coal-black and muscular, it ended in a hand.

A webbed hand.

Astonishment sucked the air out of her lungs. Her hands shook and she Music for a Merman by Alice Renaud almost lost her grip on the trunk. She clutched the wood so hard that a splinter drove into her finger, drawing blood, but she didn’t feel any pain. She could only stare, and listen, as the fantastical being moved through the water and poured his soul out in a stream of music.

A merman! The old legends were true. Here was the Water Horse, the Selkie, the aquatic creature that could turn into a man.

Buy Links:
Amazon
Universal link

Author bio:
Author Alice Renaud Alice lives in London, UK, with her husband and son. By day she’s a compliance manager for a pharmaceutical company. By night she writes fantasy romance about shape shifting mermen, water monsters and time-travelling witches. Her first book, “A Merman’s Choice,” was published in January 2019 by Black Velvet Seductions. It is the first book in a fantasy romance trilogy inspired by the landscapes and legends of Brittany and Wales. The second book, “Music for a Merman,” is on pre order now. Alice has also written a short story, “The Sweetest Magic of All,” included in the BVS Mystic Desire anthology, on pre order now.

Alice loves reading and writing stories, and sharing them with anyone who’s interested!

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A star herself, welcome Terri Osburn and Among the Stars

Nomad Authors would like to welcome one of Dee’s very favorite authors, Terri Osburn, and her newest work, Among the Stars: A Shooting Stars Novella. It would be hard to find a better romance author than Terri, and like everything else Dee has read of hers, Among the Stars is just wonderful! Let’s meet Terri.

Among the Stars: Terri Osburn

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your novella, Among the Stars?

TO: This one came out of necessity. Earlier this year, a friend suggested we gather several authors for a fun Christmas in July promo. The novellas wouldn’t have to take place during Christmas, but they needed some connection. I didn’t have anything holiday planned so I had to think quick, and Veronica came naturally to mind. I’d just released Wishing On A Star, in which Veronica’s ex-husband reunites with his high school sweetheart. Though Veronica and her ex were still best friends, I knew that seeing him with the woman he loved even when they were married was tough for her. Cam, her hero, took a ridiculously long time to find, but once he stepped onto the page, the story fell perfectly into place.

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from your book?

TO: I’d like readers to see that sometimes the person we think is perfect for us isn’t really the person for us at all. And in many cases, we aren’t the best judge of the type of person with whom we work. Veronica’s sisters serve as her reality check, and by the end, part of her happy ending is realizing that both she and her ex are with the perfect mates for them.

NA: A fun fact about writing your book.

TO: I live in Nashville and while writing the book I had to make a couple visits to downtown, which is where much of the story takes place. There are lots of references to things you see along Broadway daily, including the mention of pedal taverns. For those who don’t know, these are rolling taverns where one person steers (the designated driver of sorts) and tourists sit around what is essentially a rolling bar, pedaling and drinking beer. It sounds terribly unsafe, and looks it too. I don’t drink so I’ve never tried it, but there are two writer events in town over the next two years so I hope to change that. I’ve noticed a couple of seats at the back that don’t have pedals. That’s where I’ll be.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?

TO: I’m fortunate to write full time so writing is my day job, though I mostly do it at night. I’ve had many jobs over the years, including customer service rep, radio personality, and Project Analyst for a military contractor, which is the position I had when I started writing in 2007.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?

TO: I started reading voraciously at a young age and fell into romance novels during my middle school years. It wasn’t long before I wanted to write my own, but life happens and though I never stopped reading, I never took the plunge into writing either. Then I stumbled upon Eloisa James’ now-defunct bulletin board in 2006 and found my tribe. They were readers and aspiring writers of romance, and we banned together to figure out this crazy job together. I’m still good friends with many in that group, and more than half a dozen of us are multi-published authors today.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?

TO: Most of my friends are writers as well, and hugely encouraging. I couldn’t possibly do something so solitary without the support of my writer buddies. My family is very proud. My mother tells everyone she meets about my books, including random strangers on the bus.

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?

TO: I’m a bit of a cross between the outliner and the by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer. There are certain things I must do before writing the first word, the biggest being complete my character detail sheets. This is a three page file I picked up from another author many years ago, and it contains everything from the characters family history and hobbies to their motivation and worst fears. Once I have those, I know the characters much more and scenes start to pop into my head. My plots are entirely character driven so if I don’t know the characters, I can’t write the story. But once the draft is going, it’s a hands-free ride and I do my best to keep us on the tracks.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?

TO: The most rewarding part of this job is always meeting the readers. I’ve made friends with some and it’s been such a positive contribution to my life. From California to Germany, the readers are the sweetest, most enthusiastic people. I’m not the most famous or successful author, but I have fantastic people who get very excited to read my books, and that’s more than I ever hoped for.

NA: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

TO: I don’t have a lot of hobbies or even much of a social life, but I do like live shows, including musicals and concerts, and hockey. I’m a huge Nashville Predators fan and look forward to going to games every year. I have an odd list of sports I follow, in that they don’t seem to go together. My favorites are hockey, tennis, and bull riding. Kind of an eclectic mix.

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have on?

TO: It’s funny that I got this question today. I’m currently wearing a shirt I chose for the sentiment conveyed. There are times when you can’t take one more second of the mess going on in our world these days and this shirt is the perfect expression of how I feel about things. It’s a black T-shirt that says the F-word, only there’s a skull-and-crossbones where the u would be. It’s a shirt I bought years ago at an All Time Low concert and I realized lately that I don’t wear it nearly often enough.

NA: What errand/chore do you despise the most?

TO: This would have to be cleaning bathrooms. Does anyone actually enjoy doing that??

NA: What famous person would you like to have dinner with?

TO: This is a tough one, but I’ll have to say Judi Dench. Or Maggie Smith. Or maybe Helen Mirren. Can I have all three? Would that not be the MOST fun dinner ever??

NA: What are you working on now?

TO: I’m currently working on more things at once than I ever have in the past. First is a proposal for my agent to shop around. This requires only three chapters, thank goodness. Then there’s an erotic romance novella I’m releasing soon. I’m reviewing the copyedits before formatting and getting it ready to release to the world. After that is a novella due to release in February (a bit of a top-secret project,) and then more books in the Shooting Stars series. Plus another secret project for next spring. Just writing this out makes me wonder if cloning is a thing yet.

NA: What is any question we didn’t ask that you would like to answer?

TO: I’d love to talk about my favorite writer ever. I have a long list of favorites, but at the top is LaVyrle Spencer. She wrote amazing books, shifting time periods and styles, and they are all purely magical. Emotional, funny, sad, heartbreaking. And always with a happy ending. She stopped writing years ago, but her books are still out there and I cannot recommend them highly enough.

Among the Stars: A Shooting Stars Novella

Blurb:
Veronica Shepherd’s ex is getting married and her response is to tie one on this Christmas Eve. When she goes two—or maybe ten—drinks too many, a sexy bartender comes to her rescue. But Cameron Rhodes isn’t just a bartender. He owns the whole boot-scootin’ honkytonk and has no idea how the beautiful woman in his arms is about to turn his life upside down. When she asks him to be her fake boyfriend, what follows is an adventure he never saw coming.

In a matter of days, Veronica and Cam go from strangers to lovers, and before the ball drops on Christmas Eve, they could become a whole lot more. But only if they’re willing to take a chance on something neither of them saw coming.

A pair: country music and Nashville

Excerpt:
“What do you recommend for a girl looking to forget someone?”

Tilting his chin as if truly pondering the question, the bartender said, “That depends. Are you the dumper or the dumpee?”

The divorce had been mutual, but Veronica felt like the one left behind tonight.

“Dumpee.”

Dark eyes narrowed. “Then the dumper is a fool.”

She was the fool for letting Ash go, but she didn’t correct him.

“Fool or not, he’s getting his happily ever after, and I want a drink.” The last was uttered with a slur so Veronica tried again. “A drink,” she said more clearly, emphasizing the k sound.

The bartender leaned on the bar, drawing attention to the strong forearms revealed beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his starched white button-down. Licking her lips, she pulled her gaze upward and spotted a wisp of dark hair through the open collar at his throat. Veronica’s mouth went dry.

“You’ve had enough to drink,” he said, the purr of his voice too distracting for the words to sink in. “Is someone waiting downstairs to take you home?”

Watching his lips move, she imagined pressing her own against them. “I’m alone,” she replied. “You could take me home.”

“Do you go home with strangers often?”

Veronica shook her head slowly, her eyes still on his mouth. “Never.”

“But for me you’d make an exception?”

The judgmental tone made her sit up straighter. “Would that be so bad? To make love to me all night?”

The chiseled jaw twitched as he watched her with a heated look that did funny things to her neglected girl parts. Veronica shivered.

“No, that wouldn’t be bad for either of us,” he drawled. “But I’d rather a woman ask me to make love to her because she wants me, not because she wants to forget someone else.”

Well, damn.

Buy Link: Amazon Kindle

Author Bio:
Terri Osburn writes contemporary romance with heart, hope, and lots of humor. After landing on the bestseller lists with her Anchor Island series, she moved on to the Ardent Springs series, which earned her a Book Buyers Best award in 2016. Her new Shooting Stars series is set against the glittering and gritty world of the Nashville country music scene. Terri’s work has been translated into five languages and has sold more than a million copies worldwide. She resides in middle Tennessee with her college-student daughter, four frisky felines, and two high-maintenance terrier mixes. Learn more about this author and her books at www.terriosburn.com. Or check out her Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/TerriOsburnAuthor.

Writing and Life #MFRWauthor

Get a life, live your life The question this week is whether life exists outside of writing. For me, the better question is, does writing exist outside of life? Without life experiences, is there anything upon which to base a short story, novella, or novel? I doubt it. Even a splendid imagination needs some comparison in order to work. If you only know one place or one type of person, it would be much harder to develop a well-rounded story line.

How does my life contribute to writing?

Jack and I have traveled all over the country so I can draw on what various states look like. Even a WIP that takes place in Europe is made better by our having been there.
We have a small family, but fortunately, they are all nutty as fruit cakes, and I often draw off them to provide story lines and character definition.
In our travels but even more by our living in a variety of places—from cities like San Francisco and Chicago to small places like Appleton, WI and Greenwood, SC—we’ve met and made friends with people from all walks of life, helping me to give depths to my stories and characters.
I’ve worked in a lot of places and in a lot of different career paths, so my imagination has an easy time making comparisons to other lines of work as well.

Does this all mean that someone who’s lived in one place all their lives without a great deal of change can’t write a great book? Gosh no. In fact, maybe it means I don’t have a good imagination and need all that outside stimuli to help me write. It’s all made life interesting, and I hope it’s helped me write better and deeper stories.

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

Guest Author: Carol Schoenig

We’re so happy to welcome Carol Schoenig and her book, The Caretaker, to Nomad Authors!

The Caretaker

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?

CS: I came up with the idea for The Caretaker in talking to my friends and neighbor. I used to belong to a sewing group. One of my friends was telling us about how her sister and brother-in-law put their belongings in storage and rented out their home. They did this because they wanted to travel in Europe for 9 months. They found a job as a House Sitter in France. It just popped into my head that could make a great story, but I wanted a romance story.

My neighbors were celebrating an anniversary. I asked how did they meet. Well, they were high school sweetheart, but her parents didn’t approve of him. Vince was drafted to serve in WWII. Life moved forward for both of them. Vince’s wife passed away, and he had grown children and lived in Boston. Mary had divorced with grown children living in Cranberry Township North of Pittsburgh PA. Vince came into Pittsburgh for a 50 HS reunion. Vince stopped in at our church asked if Mary was around. Sure enough she was only a few feet away. They started dating and got married when they were 72 years of age.

They’ve been married for 15 years. Mary died a few months ago. Vince is in a nursing home.

NA: What sort of research did you do to write this book?

CS: I’ve always wanted to go to Mallorca Spain so most of my research was finding restaurants and interesting sites in Mallorca, building supplies stores in Rome that are similar to those in the US. Home Depot.

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from your book?

CS: Love isn’t just for the young. There are so many people over 50 plus looking for companionship or love. In fact, three friends that read my book ended up in relationships.

J got married, she’s 70.
NS is 73 and dating a friend from high school, and I asked if marriage was in the horizon and she said possibly. Nancy shared with me a story about her friend I’m saving for another book.
CP is a friend of mine from high school and she is 70 and in a relationship. Neither he nor she is interested in marriage. Carol’s reasons are fodder to be used later.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?

CS: I currently work part-time in a retail store. I had a twenty-five-year career in Human Resources in various industries, engineering, health care, advertising and biotechnology.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?

CS: It has been a long time coming to be a writer. I think I was first inspired to write after reading the poem I think I’ll never see a poem as lovely as a tree That poem gave me an emotional jolt. I wanted to write something as beautiful as that poem. I want to inspire people and make them feel and see things from another prospective.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?

CS: They’re excited, supportive and proud of me. They think it’s awesome. My high school friends want me to write a book about our friendship.

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?

CS: Definitely by-the-seat-of-my pants and that is not good. If I outline, I feel like someone has put me in a room and locked me up. I see the need and reason for outlining, but I have a hard time. I feel confined.
What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?

NA: Which kind of scenes are the hardest for you to write? Action, dialogue, sex?

CS: Definitely sex scenes. I bought a book naughty words for good girls. One thing I’ve found though is when watching a movie and the characters will kiss, I zone in on the steps they look in the other person’s eyes, move closer, closer until their lips meet. I have a friend that writes erotic books, and she tells me she watches porn.

NA: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

CS: I think of myself as a jack of all trades master of none. I have many hobbies and likes. I’ll sew, clothing, quilts, purses. I like to make cards, sing in the choir, I like to travel, but don’t do enough of it. Spend time with my grandchildren, Bake I used to make wedding cakes. I recently did a cupcake bouquet.

NA: What are your top three favorite books of all time?

CS: The Last Forever by Nora Roberts. The inn that is being renovated in the book is a real place in Boonsboro, MD and is owned by NR.

Her Summer with a Marine by Susan Meier. I love all of Susan’s books. She has written over 50 and I think I have 35 of them. I like this one because the occupation was different.

And most recently I enjoyed Her Lover’s Face by Patricia Elliott. I thought how they met was very unique.

NA: A pet peeve.

CS: Not sure what you mean here, in writing? Pet peeve is big books. I like to read something that can be done in a day or two, not a month. I prefer dialogue and not all the narrative. That’s probably why I have difficulty writing narrative.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?

CS: I hate waking up to alarms. I rarely use one and if I have to use one, I’m up before it goes off. I’ve been able to visualize or train myself to do this. I went on a retreat with a friend and she wanted to set an alarm for 6 a.m. I told all I need to do is tell myself to get up at 6 a.m. and I’ll be up. Sure enough I was up at 6 a.m. The same when I worked, I‘d visualize the parking spot I wanted and it would be available to me.

I’d love to do that with my writing. Although, I made a book jacket with the title and my name on the binding. Went to Barnes and Nobles and placed it in the spot where it would go on the shelve and took a picture. That was my motivation to keep writing. I got the book written. It’s not on the shelves of B&N. It will be one of these days.

NA: What errand/chore do you despise the most?

CS: Grocery shopping. I’ve passed it off to my husband. When I was diagnosed with Celiac disease ten years ago, I began to hate grocery shopping. It was torture. Everything I picked up had wheat in it. I’m not a big veggie or fruit eater so it was like there is nothing for me to eat. Over the years it’s gotten better and there are more options for Celiac disease. I don’t enjoy eating out a lot for the same reason.

NA: What famous person would you like to have dinner with?

CS: Tom Hanks or Michael Keaton. I love their sense of humor. I spoke to Michael Keaton on the phone once, but I didn’t know it was him. I worked with his sister and brother and he called in to talk to them. I passed the call through. When Doug (Michael’s brother) got off the phone he came over and told me it was Michael Keaton. He is originally from the same area where I grew up.

NA: What are you working on now?

CS: I’m finished a short story for the Mystic Desire Anthology and hope to complete my second novel A Make-Believe Engagement. It’s about a woman who lost a leg after celebrating her engagement. Shortly afterward, her fiancé dumpS her, and she loes her yoga studio. Five years later she finds herself playing the role of a fiancé to keep her sister out of jail.
I was inspired to write this for several reasons. Amy Mullins gave a TED Talk about her twelve pairs of legs. Amy lost her legs at the age of two.

I hear the struggles women have meeting guys etc. It made me think about how hard it must be if you have a disability or disfigurement.

Not every missing limbed person has a great story to tell like Amy Mullins etc. I wanted to reach out to those people and let them know not to give up.

Another book I’ve started developing my characters is a story about sexual harassment at work. I was sexually harassed at work, before there were laws to protect women. When the MeTo movement began and every time something appeared in the news about someone being harassed etc. it brought those memories back. But what I have a hard time understanding is waiting decades to come forward or wanting to sue for money or make myself known. I need to research some of this and understand more. I can only write from my experience. I just want to forget it and move on.

Also, my high school friends keep asking me to write a book about us. There are 10 of us that get together once a month for dinner. We’ve gone to elementary school and high school together. We’ve been friends for over 50 years. Last year 6 of us went on a cruise to celebrate our 70th birthdays. I think it will have to be a series, Married, Divorced, Widowed.

NA: What adventurous things have you done in your life?

CS: Windsurfing (I did this when I was younger) Zorbing
Parasailing
Zorbing
Ziplining
White water rafting
No door helicopter ride
Swimming with dolphins
Segway in Bermuda
Hot-air balloon ride

The Caretaker by Carol Schoenig

The Caretaker blurb:

Phae Carson married young to a husband that was verbally and emotionally abusive. Having two kids by the time she was 20 kept her in the relationship.

For twenty-seven years he controlled her life, not giving her access to money and not allowing her to work outside the home. He nixed family vacations and outings of any kind. He expected the house clean, home cooked meals and no laundry in the hampers.

Finally, widowed, with her children grown, Phae is presented with a job opportunity as a caretaker for a villa in Mallorca Spain. She jumps at the chance to experience some of the adventures she’d dreamed about in her youth. However, she’ll have to take control of her life. Starting by going against the wishes of her grown children Kera and Jeff, who try to dissuade her from taking the job.

In Mallorca, she finds more than she expected when she meets Finn Callahan, the owner of the villa she’s hired to take care of.

Phae initially wants no part of falling in love because she doesn’t want to lose the autonomy she has gained. But she begins to wonder if it’s possible loving someone, being in a relationship, isn’t synonymous with losing one’s independence?

Buy The Caretaker on Amazon

Author info:

Author Carol Schoenig Carol Schoenig used to joke with co-workers that when she retired she was going to sit on a beach and write scintillating romance novels.

Married to the same man for 50 years. She spends time with her two grown sons and five grandchildren. She reads, sews and sings in the choir.

She believes you’re never too old to pursue your dreams.

Find Carol on Facebook and Twitter.

Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RWISA

RWISA Showcase Vignettes Parisian
Bernard Foong

Vignettes Parisian is a collection of four short stories about the Author’s past and present experiences in the French City of Love and Romance, commonly known as Paris.

Christian Dior Couturier Du Reve
It is impossible not to have a close encounter with fashion when I am in Paris. Even if I had to wait in the freezing cold for an hour and a half to enter the Christian Dior Couturier Du Reve (Christian Dior Couturier of Dreams) exhibition at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs (Museum of Decorative Arts). My husband, Walter, and I were the lucky few who arrived early before the museum opened its doors. The late arrivals were banished to the back of the queue for a five hours wait before admission was granted.

This spectacular exhibition was worth the wait. Not only were the lives, times, and accomplishments of Christian Dior, one of the great French couturier and his successors well documented, the exquisite fashions and well-thought-out displays were equally impressive.

Since my first visit in 1966 to the French capital of romance, luxury, and fashion, my love for Paris has never waned. Before I left sunny Maui, I had designed and made a haute couture gold, silver, and black embossed velvet fleur-de-lis patterned coat to wear during my recent holiday in France. It was at this exhibition that I received compliments for my one-of-a-kind creation.

A stranger approached me at the exhibition to buy the coat off my back because he loved what I wore. Perhaps I should be the next designer to take over the reins for this resplendent Maison – The House of Dior. After all, I am a knowledgeable and seasoned fashion designer who knows every aspect of the international fashion industry.

Shopping In Paris (Then & Now)

I am one of those blessed individuals with a pair of discerning eyes and can detect items I wish to purchase in cramped spaces on my crazy shopping sprees. It was in such a circumstance that Walter and I found ourselves in the middle of the crowded shopping Avenue, des Champs Elysées.

A sole of my shoe had divorced itself from the body of my long-lasting suedes and left me to hobble around Paris like a circus clown with flapping feet. I had to take immediate action to remedy this unanticipated situation before the remainder of my footwear disintegrated onto the wet and soggy ground, while my beloved, sniggered at my fashion malfunction.

I remembered an amusing incident that happened in 1969 at this boulevard. Back then, I was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fashion student. Accompanying Moi was Count Mario, an accomplished Vogue fashion photographer, Andy, my model-looking lover and Valet, and Sammy, a flamboyant young fashionista. The four of us were shopping at the avenue, that drizzly day.

To elongate his petite stature beneath his wide bell-bottom jeans, Sammy wore a pair of eight inches high platform shoes. He also donned a fitted denim jacket over a sassy body-hugging bodysuit. To complete his eccentric ensemble, his dyed cornflower yellow, emerald, and turquoise hair flowed behind him like an exotic mane as our quartet floated down the street.

Eyes turned in our direction as we trotted around Paris in style. Before I realized what had transpired, Sammy was flat on the pavement. Colorful socks bounced around him like raptured pom-poms. The lad had stuffed pairs of rolled-up socks inside his footwear so he could fit his tiny feet into the platforms. He had stumbled on the wet and slippery sidewalk.

Mario, wasted no time whipping out his camera to capture this unanticipated fashion faux pas, while Andy and I looked on in shock.

As if modeling for a Vogue fashion shoot, the quick-witted Sam posed this way and that on the wet thoroughfare while the photographer clicked away at the gaffe. A pedestrian circle had formed in the middle of Avenue des Champs Elysées to witness this “fashion happening.” Advertently, our friend had transformed an embarrassing situation into a photo-opt as the applauding crowd showered the boy with accolades. By the time Sammy got on his feet, he had saved his face with poise and grace.

The Magical Power of The Written Word

“Why are there beds located at different corners of the bookstore?” I asked Monsieur Mercier, an assistant at the Shakespeare & Company bookshop.

“The beds are available for writers to stay a night in Paris for free,” the man responded before he resumed, “Are you a writer? Do you intend to stay the night?”

Surprised by the man’s inquiries, I evinced, “I am a writer. But no thank you to the lodging offer.”

“What genre of books do you write, Monsieur?” Mercier queried.

“I’m an autobiographer,” I replied. “Because of its controversial and provocative contents, my books are often classified under the Erotica genre.”

The bookseller questioned, “What are the titles of your books, and what is the author’s name?”

“A HAREM BOY’S SAGA; A MEMOIR BY YOUNG. It’s a five-book series,” I declared.

“I believe we have your books in the store. Are the titles: INITIATION, UNBRIDLED, DEBAUCHERY, TURPITUDE, and METANOIA?” he promulgated.

I nodded, delighted by his information.

The Frenchman led me through a series of narrow pathways covered with volumes and pamphlets of the written word. When he finally extracted five volumes of my autobiography from a shelf, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.

“I read the series. What a compelling teenage life you’ve led. I wish my school had a secret fraternity program like yours,” the teller quipped smilingly.

He recommenced, “Our store is a focal point of English literature in Paris. Anais Nin, Henry Miller, and Richard Wright are frequent visitors. We also host literary activities, like poetry readings, writers’ meetings, book readings, writing festivals, literature festivals, photography workshops, writing groups, and Sunday tea.

“Ms. Sylvia Whitman, the owner, might invite you for a book reading at our store.”

“That will be splendid. Unfortunately, my husband and I are in Paris for a short period. Maybe we can arrange a book reading and signing session when we are in Paris again,” I proposed.

Monsieur Mercier and I had exchanged contact information before I left the Shakespeare & Company bookshop. Hopefully, during my next visit to Paree, I will get to meet Madam Sylvia Whitman with a book reading and signing gig in place.

S.O.W. and R.E.A.P.

Over the years, I have been asked by many, “Why do you love Paris so much?” My reply is always the same – S.O.W.

Although the Parisian cityscape has changed over the years, these three alphabets continue to shadow my existence whenever I am in or out of Paris. S.O.W. is also a reason Walter and I chose France as our home away from home.

In the autumn of 1966, when the Simorgh (one of my Arab patriarch’s private jet) touched down in Charles de Gaulle airport, I had contracted the romance bug. Back then, the ebullient Moi, an inquisitive teenager with a quest for adventure, was whisked to the Paris Ritz Carlton in a luxurious Bentley by my host, Prince P. I had fallen head-over-heels in love and in awe with both the prince, Andy, my then chaperone and Valet, and Paris, the city of romance. That was before our entourage visited the haute couture fashion Houses of Chanel, Dior, Ungaro, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Patou, and the fancy eateries, such as Café de Flore, La Belle Époque, Maxim’s, and last but by no means least, Le Folies Bergers. Back then, these infamous Parisian establishments were places to go, to see and be seen. Nowadays, they are tourist attractions.

Through the subsequent years, I had accompanied many princes, princesses, sheiks, sheikas, and their aristocratic Arabian entourages to the French capital. Most significantly, this city of love and romance had taught me the art of Seduction (S), Originality (O), and Wit (W). Some may say that wittiness is a congenital trait, but I purport it as a learned art of human relationships. Whatever definition one chooses to use, I had returned to this electrifying metropolis of S.O.W.; where I had sown many a wild oat. Now, with my beloved husband in tow, I’m here to R.E.A.P. its rewards.

“What the hell is R.E.A.P.?” you ask.

I will explain:

R – Romance continues to exist in this alluring Capital of Love; even amid an influx of foreign refugees and political upheavals. Another series of stories, I will narrate another time.

E – Elegance in this sordid city of high culture is a trait Walter and I find irresistibly seductive.

A – Authenticity is historicity in this Center of Romance. And I am not referring to the faux reproduction of the Las Vegas ‘Paris’ in Nevada, United States of America.

P – Paris equals Sophistication, Originality, Wit, Romance, Elegance, and Authenticity. But last and by no means least, this French capital is where Perfection reigns supreme.

PARIS – Mon Paree!

Bernard Foong (aka Young)

Bernard Foong Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.

We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs. Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent! Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

Bernard Foong’s RWISA Author Page

Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RWISA

RWISA Showcase Burning Out in Tokyo
By Ronald E. Yates

Clayton Brandt stood just behind the glass doors of the Ministry of International Trade and Industry building waiting for a let-up in the storm that pummeled the hot Tokyo pavement. Wisps of vapor rose into the air as the rain hit the warm ground.

He searched the eight-lane boulevard in front of the MITI building for an empty taxi. He knew it could be a long wait before an empty cab came down Sakurada-Dori. Thousands of bureaucrats glutted Tokyo’s Kasumigaseki district, and whenever it rained, it seemed like all of them wanted a taxi.

“Son of a bitch!” he said, his words echoing through the lobby. Two middle-aged Japanese bureaucrats standing nearby looked over at the tall foreigner. They understood that English phrase.

Clayton grinned. “Ame-ga futte imasu,” he said.

The two men looked at one another and then back at Clayton as if to say: “Yes, we can see it is raining. But is that any excuse for such a rude public outburst?”

Clayton sighed, opened his umbrella, and stepped out into the downpour. He turned right and hurried through the governmental heartland of Japan, maneuvering his 6-foot, 3-inch frame through the crowded sidewalk glutted with black and gray umbrellas. Sometimes the edge of an umbrella held by a much shorter Japanese man or woman slashed at his throat or slapped against his face. Whenever it rained, and the umbrellas came out, Clayton always felt Gulliveresque—like a giant trapped in a forest of undulating toadstools.

He looked up at the leaden April sky. The rain had drenched Tokyo for the past four days, covering the ground with a pink and white patina of delicate sakura blossoms. A slow rumble of thunder curled between the squat granite structures of Kasumigaseki. Clayton looked at his watch. It was four-thirty and the evening traffic was already crawling. He had hoped to get his story written and filed by six o’clock, but the briefing about Japan’s angry reaction to Washington’s decision to bar the U.S. government’s purchase of Japanese supercomputers had taken longer than usual.

The sky rumbled again, and bolts of lightning streaked overhead. A taxi pulled up outside the Ministry of Health and Welfare and was disgorging three Japanese bureaucrats in dark blue suits. Clayton closed his umbrella and dashed for the cab splashing through rivulets of water as he ran. The three men had barely climbed out before Clayton bolted past them and into the rear seat. He gave the driver his destination, closed his eyes, and rested his head on the seat back as the taxi inched its way back into the gridlock.

Every so often, his eyes opened just long enough to take in the somber Tokyo landscape. The perpetually gray skies of Tokyo didn’t do his already sepulchral spirit any good. In fact, very little seemed to buoy his disposition these days. He couldn’t help it. He felt depressed and probably a bit too sorry for himself. A few hours before the MITI briefing, he had suffered through another of those telephone “chats” with Max, the foreign editor of Global News Service in London about expenses and the need to cut back on costs.

“O.K., O.K. Max,” Clayton had sighed bleakly into the phone. “I get the picture.”

The exchange ended with Max suggesting that Clayton not be such a “cowboy.” A “cowboy?” Why? Just because he was from Oxford, Kansas and not Oxford, England? It wasn’t easy working for a bunch of Brits when you sounded more like Garth Brooks than Sir Laurence Olivier. But he knew what Max meant.

Clayton was an iconoclast in a profession that increasingly rewarded conformity rather than individualism. Newspapers today all looked alike, loaded with the same predictable stories about the same predictable events. It was rubber-stamp journalism practiced by rubber-stamp editors who worked for rubber-stamp publishers who worked for boards of directors who wanted twenty percent operating profit margins above all else—quality journalism be damned.

He went over the notes he had hurriedly scribbled during the MITI briefing, searching for the lead of his story. His pen scratched heavy lines under the words “ill-conceived” and “studying our response.” Then he stuffed the notebook back into his bag.

“It’s over,” Clayton thought to himself as he watched the snarl of cars and trucks crawl along Uchibori-Dori through Kokyo-Gaien, the large plaza that fronted the walled Imperial Palace. It was as if today he had been forced finally to confront the inevitable mortality of his professional career; or at least of his particular brand of journalism. He was writing the same boring stories over and over again. Where was the challenge? The sense of accomplishment?

Clayton exhaled and gazed out the taxi window at the striated, ashen facades of drenched buildings. They reminded him of the mascara-smudged faces of women weeping at a rainy graveside.

He closed his eyes and nudged his mind away from the depressing Tokyo landscape. Soon it was obediently shuffling through old images of another, more beguiling Asia. It was an Asia of genial evenings spent beneath traveler palms; of graceful, colonial-era hotels in Singapore and Malaysia with their chalky plaster facades and their broad verandahs peppered with rattan settees and peacock chairs; of slowly turning teakwood paddle fans that moved the heavy night air with just enough authority to create a light breeze, but not enough to obliterate the sweet scent of evening jasmine. THAT was the Asia he missed; the Orient of the past.

Yes, it was ending. Clayton could feel it. It had been a good run . . . A good career. But now the journey was ending, like a train that had roared through the night and was now pulling into its last station. How many times had he almost gotten off only to be lured back on by the promise of what lay ahead at the next stop? How many times had he been disappointed by that decision? How many times had he been rewarded? At first, the rewards outweighed the disappointments, but in recent years, as he had grown older, the regrets seemed to have gained a definite edge.

For one thing, the passengers kept changing. And the conductors. And the engineers. But what did he expect? Wasn’t that the way the world worked? What was it that Tennyson had written: “The old order changeth, yielding place to new?”

Clayton shuddered. Was he the old order? Should he be yielding? Was he burned out?

Maybe he was becoming the old order, Clayton thought. But he wasn’t burned out just yet. And if there was any yielding to do, he wanted it on his own terms. The trouble was, the gulf of time between his past glories and the imminence of the callow, computer savvy handlers in the home office who controlled his destiny was becoming almost unbridgeable.

Most of his career predated cell phones and computers. For the computer literates at Global, his life’s work might as well be stored on some remote database. As it was, he existed only in yellowing newspaper clips, aging telexes, and letters of commendation that were kept in his personal file back in London. And nobody bothered to look at that stuff anymore.

It made no difference, Clayton thought. In the mutable, evanescent province that modern journalism had become, it was ancient history. Hell, HE was ancient history. He was like a piece of old journalistic parchment—readable, but, unlike a computer, much less utilitarian.

What Clayton needed was another journalistic rush . . . A story he could get hold of and play like a newly discovered Mozart piano concerto. He needed something . . . Not to satisfy the yuppies back at Global, but to give him a reason to get back on the train and to leave the station again.

The taxi slewed to a stop like a wooden bathhouse sandal skidding along a wet tile floor. Clayton looked up. They were in front of the Kawabata Building.

“Kawabata Biru, desu,” the driver announced.

Clayton fumbled in his pocket, handed the driver a one thousand yen note, and waited for his change. Then he bolted through the swirling Tokyo rain and put his shoulder against the massive glass and steel doors of the Kawabata Building. Unlike most of Tokyo’s modern structures, the Kawabata Building didn’t have sleek automatic glass doors that hissed serpent-like and opened automatically at the approach of a human being. It was a pre-war relic—an architectural throw-back with cracked marble floors and a fading art deco interior that had somehow survived the allied bombings.

The building’s deteriorating facade, which was the color of dead autumn leaves, seemed to glower at the world—like the rumpled brow of an angry old man. But the tumble-down building had an undeniable individuality in a country that too often prized sameness, and that was the reason Clayton liked it and had refused an offer to move into one of the new glass and steel “smart buildings” that soared over Tokyo’s Otemachi district.

He paused to talk for a moment with the old woman who operated the small grocery and newsstand tucked away in the corner of the lobby. From his many conversations with her, Clayton had learned that the old woman had operated her little concession since 1938 and knew the building’s history better than anybody.

She smiled as Clayton’s towering frame bent toward her in one of those peculiar half bows that Japanese make when they are in a hurry. Japanese could do it with a certain grace; but not Clayton. When this big foreigner bowed, he always looked like he was on the verge of crashing to the ground like a gingko tree struck by lightning. Nevertheless, she liked this gaijin. Ordinarily, she merely tolerated foreigners, but this one had a solitary charm. He was big, but not threatening; assertive, but not arrogant.

“So, Oba-san, Genki datta?” Clayton asked, combining the Japanese honorific for “grandmother” with the less formal interrogative for “how are you?”

“Genki-yo,” the old woman replied. Clayton picked up a package of Pocky chocolates and placed a one hundred yen coin in the old woman’s hand.

“Sayonara,” Clayton said as he turned and scuttled toward the bank of elevators.

“Sonna ni hatarakanai ho ga ii desu!” the old woman called after him.

Clayton smiled and nodded over his shoulder. The old woman was right. He was working too hard, and where was it getting him? Back on a train to oblivion?

“Oh, get over it,” Clayton thought as the elevator door closed. “You’ve got a story to write. Feel sorry for yourself AFTER you make your friggin’ deadline! Besides, what else do you know how to do, you old hack! Burning out is not an option.”

The End

Ron Yates Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.

Ron Yates’ RWISA Author Page

Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RWISA

RWISA Showcase

NATURE SPEAKS
by Karen Ingalls

Why did my life spiral into darkness in a second? One minute I am married to my soulmate, a mother to a beautiful daughter, and owner of a successful bookstore. My friends asked me, “How do you have the perfect life? It is so easy for you.” They were right. I had the perfect life.

My husband was an engineer, and I opened a bookstore naming it Mile High Books offering old and new books, coffee or tea. Leather chairs and couches provided comfort to the patrons. Classical music played in the background. I loved going to my store enjoying the smell of books, coffee, and leather.

We had our first and only child, Lynn who also loved classical music and dreamed of being a ballet dancer.

One Saturday morning, my life changed forever. I had awakened with a migraine headache, which was intolerable. It was best if I stayed in a dark, quiet room until the medication relieved the blinding pain.

My husband, Miles volunteered to run the bookstore that fateful day. “Lynn and I can manage the bookstore today. You stay home and take care of the headache.” He leaned over and kissed me. “I love you,” were the last words I would hear him say.

I curled up, closed my eyes, and waited for the pain to go away.

A pounding on the front door and the continuous ringing of the bell awakened me. “This had better be important,” I muttered while staggering down the stairs. Two police officers with grim looks were standing on the porch. I collapsed when the words, fire, death, husband, daughter floated around my confused mind.

My once perfect life was unbearable with the memories of it everywhere. I sold everything, bought a second-hand Volkswagen Beetle, and drove west with just the clothes on my back and a photograph of Miles, Lynn and me. I didn’t know where I was going, but I didn’t care.

The small cabin in the foothills of Costa Mesa, California overlooking the Pacific Ocean was my new residence. It was not a home. It was a place to sleep, eat and try to escape from my past.

The land was arid with brush, oak trees, scattered thistle weeds, and clay soil. Every evening, I walked down a short path from the cabin to a flattened area where I sat under a large oak tree and watched the sun dip into the ocean. One day at dusk, I leaned against the tree, closed my eyes and dreamed that Miles arms were around me while we watched Lynn ballet dance on a large stage. I could hear the music of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.

When I awoke there were two limbs embracing me, and leaves and acorns were swirling around creating Tchaikovsky’s music. “Am I still dreaming?” The bark of the trunk and the limbs was rough and uncomfortable. I squirmed and pulled at the limbs. “What is happening? This is crazy.” I yelled for someone to help me, but the only words I heard were not human.

Ginny, you are a strong woman. Use your strength to get through this storm in your life.

I pulled the limbs off, jumped up, and looked around expecting to see someone nearby. “Is anyone here?” I yelled again. Everything was quiet. A full moon radiated light around me.

Staring at the tree, I brushed my clothes, scratched my head, and said, “That was quite a dream, but how did those limbs wrap around me?” I shook my head trying to clear the confusion. “It was a beautiful dream of Miles and Lynn. I miss them so much.” With the sleeve of my sweater I wiped the tears. “I’ve got to get hold of myself. I’m losing my mind.”

The voice said. That was not a dream. I am here to help you.

“Oh, my God, I am going crazy. Trees don’t talk.”

Ginny, you are not going crazy. All trees talk, but humans do not listen. Do you remember your friend, Meredith who told you she talks to trees?

I nodded. “How do you…?”

I saw a friendly face of a kind, elderly man etched in the trunk. Every flora and fauna communes with humans, but they are too busy or unbelieving to listen and learn from us.

I fell to my knees, grabbed a handful of soil, and watched it slowly stream out of my clenched fist. “This was my life. Time was going by with no troubles.” I opened my fist and let the soil out in one burst. “Then everything changed. My life was never the same. It is now an empty hand.” I sobbed and my whole body shook.

You are strong. Your faith is like my roots: stretching wide and going deep.

The limbs stretched out, wrapped around my shoulders and leaned me against the trunk. Miles and Lynn are speaking to you through me.

Then I heard them say, We love you and will always be with you. Follow your heart.

The limbs were gentle and comforting. The rough bark was now smooth. My tears dried up, and I drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep.

The warm and bright rays of the morning sun radiated through the tree’s canopy bringing warmth to my body nestled against the oak tree. Standing up, I stretched and looked out at the blue waters of the Pacific marveling at its majesty and beauty. I smiled as the words follow your heart floated around. “Wow! That was quite a dream.”

I walked a few steps on the path back towards the cabin. I stopped and looked back at the oak tree. “It might have all been a dream, but thank you.”

A thistle plant with its purple flower in full bloom was further up the path. I stopped. “You are beautiful, but your spikes are sharp.”

The spikes turned inward. Do not let fear hold you back.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. “Now I hear a flower talking to me. I am going crazy.”

The thistle plant swayed back and forth though there was no breeze. It bent forward bringing its flower near my hands. Touch me and accept my gift of peace.

I placed my hand on the purple flower and a deep sense of serenity swept over me. For the first time since the deaths of my family I was at peace. I whispered “Thank you.”

A short distance from the cabin porch, I saw the white silken top of a trapdoor spider’s home. I did not remember seeing it before and bent down to get a closer look. The trapdoor opened and a dark spider poked his head out. I stumbled as I tried to jump back.

The spider was small and ugly with fine hairs covering its dark brown body. He was frightening to look at, but his kind words put me at ease. You have walked by many doors, but you didn’t open them.

“What is going on? I am hallucinating with all these voices in my head.”

You are not hallucinating. Your family is talking to you through the oak tree, the thistle and me. The spider moved back into his home and closed the trapdoor.

For days I paced around the cabin, reliving each moment and the words about strength, peace, and opportunities. I prayed and cried. I read about mysticism and nature.

One morning, I awoke and saw Miles and Lynn standing beside my bed. We will always be with you in your heart. Let nature continue to teach you.

The magnificent oak tree taught how to be strong of body, mind, and heart. Staying healthy and opening my arms to others became my ways of living.

I found beauty in my life and other people after removing my thorns of bitterness and self-pity.

My cabin was a trap shutting out people until I opened its doors and made it a home and retreat center. I added rooms for guests to stay and classrooms for teaching.

I called my new endeavor Nature Speaks, helping people to commune with and learn from all aspects of nature. When people open their hearts and minds to nature there are opportunities for a richer life.

Karen Ingalls Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.

Karen Ingalls’ RWISA Author Page

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