How cool is this. Indiebookspot.com just published their interview with me (here). And if you as my opinion it’s great reading. In fact after reading it I feel much more in tune with me. So, please, do check it out and be sure to let me know what you think of it. Go ahead, you can tell me the truth. I can take it.
Indiebookspot.com also offered to review the Any Tomorrow Trilogy, so I hope that happens in the next few weeks.
I also finally have an author page on Amazon and one on Shelfari, although the one on Shelfari is still pretty basic. With everything else, I must have missed Amazon’s list of things to do for new authors like building an author page. I think with my next books I’ll focus more on Amazon instead of trying to work a dozen different sites at once.
Note to self: Focus is important!
And speaking of focusing, I am about 70 pages into my next novel. The working title is 1933 and if you’ve been following my blog for a while, you might remember that I discussed early concepts for it last year. In that post there is even a link to a Google doc you can read and make comments on. Of course 70 pages in and after several revisions, what that introduction leads to has evolved considerably. All I will tell you know is that the plot is more focused, the story shorter than my trilogy, and that it involves a spy, a beautiful woman, and the collapse of time. Oh, and Nazis, lots of Nazis.
And as I was immersing myself in 1933, I was discussing with my wife the fact that she won’t read anything I write because she doesn’t like the blood and the sex and being kept awake at night by horrible dreams. So I suggested that I might write a book for her, maybe even a romance. All I needed was a couple of elements to get me started, such as a timeframe, a plot idea, something. I don’t read romances so this doesn’t come to me naturally.
That seed of a conversation evolved into something else entirely. When it comes to my writing, nothing is ever as it first appears. Unable to provide the necessary inspiration for a romance, historical or otherwise, she made the suggestion that I write a book for my granddaughters, Hannah and Emma. She even suggested that Hannah could be in the book. At first I recoiled from the idea for several reasons: (1) Writing a story that stars your child, grandchild, or any other family member is just wrong. It’s too cutesy and I don’t do cutesy. (2) I am not Dr. Suess. (3) The Christopher Robin effect. A.A. Milne’s use of his son’s name in the Winnie-the-Pooh stories almost ruined his life.
Then I started thinking about it. Maybe I could write a children’s book that was simple enough for a child to understand, but included sophisticated concepts, that wasn’t overtly childish, and was just dark enough that it might hold my interest as I wrote it. So that’s what I’m working on and here is part of it. The working title is The Darkened Room. Be sure to leave a comment and let me know what you think.
Some people believe that things are the way they are just because they are that way. For instance, if you had a cat with a blue tail, those people would believe that the cat’s tail was blue just because he’d always had a blue tail. You see, if you see a thing often enough, and stare at it long enough, it’s very easy to believe that what you see has always been that way. So, if the cat’s tail is blue today and was blue yesterday, it is easy to believe that the cat’s tail was blue always.
Of course, this isn’t so. Always is a very long time, especially in the life of a cat. And certainly in the life of a girl or boy. Always means that there was never a time the cat’s tail wasn‘t blue. This, of course isn’t true. There was a time when the cat’s tail was a majestic golden tabby.
But that was before the cat discovered that sometimes things, even ordinary things, are not as they seem and that following a ball of yarn into a darkened room may turn out to be more of an adventure than even a cat might imagine.
To Elinor Eliza Trahern summer with her grandmother was as natural as eating breakfast. Every June 23rd her mother would bundle her things into the trunk of Nana’s car and the adventure would begin again. For weeks she would look forward to visiting Nana. In the weeks preceding the trip, several times each day she would ask her mother if today was the day that Nana would come to take her to Florida.
“Momma, is Nana coming today,” she would ask.
“Not today, sweetheart, not until June 20th.” Then Momma would show Elinor on the big calendar in the kitchen when June 20th was and how long it would be before today turned into June 20th. Nana always arrived on June 20th, so she could rest before making the long trip back to Florida on the 23rd. Momma would always tell her how many days were left before Nana arrived.
“Just three more days, Elinor!” became “Just two more days, Elinor!” which became “Just one more day, Elinor!” and finally “Nana will be here today, Enlinor!”
Elinor couldn’t wait. She fidgeted and fussed and jumped every time a car drove by. But she couldn’t help it. Her Nana was coming for her and her summer was going to be wonderful. And finally the moment arrived when Nana pulled her big car into the parking space Daddy had saved for her, the one right in front of the front door. And even though Elinor was in her pajamas and had taken her bath and said her prayers, she was out the door and in Nana’s arms before Momma and Daddy had a chance to stop her.
“Oh, Nana,” she said as she hugged her grandmother, “I missed you!”
“I missed you, too, Elinor,” said Nana. And she wished she could just keep on hugging her, but it was time to get Nana’s bags from the car and for everyone to go inside. Nana loved Elinor’s hugs and she wished they could go on forever. But forever, like always, is a very long time, especially in the life of a grandmother and her granddaughter.
Elinor thought it was wonderful that Nana had come to her again and wanted to do everything right now. She wanted to show Nana her new dolls and play games and sing songs, but it was late and Nana reminded Elinor that if they were to go to Florida, they would need lots of rest.
It was nearly ten-thirty when Elinor calmed down enough that she might try to go to sleep. Nana carried her upstairs, tucked her in her bed, and kissed her good night. Elinor gave her Nana a good-night hug, one of her really tight, really special ones, then closed her eyes until Nana left the room. After that she quietly hummed to herself a song she was making up on the spot. She was good at making up songs. And she hummed to herself until she heard her Momma and Daddy and Nana talking downstairs. And as she finally closed her eyes and drifted into wonderful sleep she thought she might have heard her Momma crying, ever so softly, the way she did during a sad scene in movie. Elinor wanted to get up and see what made Momma cry, but it was too late. She was already falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.