Playing on the White Strings

Last summer I attended a harp workshop. In addition to listening to, and playing lovely harp music, the workshop took place in the middle of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. While I listened to and played all kinds of Celtic music, anywhere I looked, was a mountain to watch, paint, photograph or just enjoy.

One exercise I learned in the harp group involved playing on the white strings only. You see, on a harp there are red strings, blue ones and the white. I discovered this: if everyone in the room plays on the white strings only, no matter what they played, every tune harmonized with the other. Wow. How fun is that?

Of course, after a while, you realize this is not something you want to do all the time. Why? Because there are no longer any surprises. Where are the contrast, unexpected notes, and conflict?

I’m guilty of doing that in my writing. Sticking only to the known and not ever branching out to the unknown with your writing is like playing on the white strings. It’s fun for a while, but pretty soon you may feel as if you are missing something. It’s time to try the colored strings, even if it is intimidating, and you’re afraid of failure.

If you write romances, branch out to mysteries. If you write nonfiction, why not write a short story? Poets, creative nonfiction might be the perfect genre for you. Never get stuck in a rut, try the new scary thing. What if you fail? You learn and stretch and go on to other things.

Come on, get off those white strings, and take a risk.

Mystery Blog Tour- Anne K. Albert

Introducing Anne K Albert and her yummy looking mystery.

Bio: 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.

Carol - What are your favorite books to read?

Anne - The same kind I like to write - cozy or gentle mysteries and romantic suspense stories. I can’t resist a puzzle to solve, a handsome hero, spunky heroine, and a happily-ever-after. It’s also very important to me that the villain gets his comeuppance in the end. Plus, I prefer that all morbid details, harsh language, and intimacy to be ‘off stage’. For that reason you won’t find any of those in my stories.

Carol - What did you hope to accomplish with your books?

Anne – All I’ve ever wanted to do is entertain the reader. If I can provide a fast paced story, bring a tear to their eye and a smile to their face, well, that’s all the better!

Carol –How would you describe your books to someone who has not read any of your previous novels? Anne - My stories chill the spine, warm the heart and soothe the soul – all with a delightful touch of humor.

Carol - 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.

Here’s an excerpt:

My cell phone blared from the confines of my purse. I dug to retrieve it, and then picked up. “Hello?”
“Muriel,” Aunt Val said. “Come home. Quick. I think I accidentally killed someone.”
“What do you mean ‘accidentally’?” Frankie accelerated, steering the Envoy into the outside lane of highway 290 and zooming past everything in sight. Including a police cruiser.
“How should I know?” I said. “Val hung up before I could ask for specifics.”
“She’s at your house?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
I checked the rearview mirror for flashing lights. “Slow down. You’ll get a ticket.”
“You’re more worried about a traffic violation than the fact you’re aunt just killed somebody?”
“She thinks she killed someone. Big difference.”
“Right.”
Ten minutes later, we arrived in my driveway. The Christmas lights I’d put up that morning stretched the full length of the front of the house and twinkled on the snow-covered shrubbery with wild abandon. I might have been impressed with my handiwork if not for Val and Big Boy standing guard beside the garage. In the shadows, I saw a body at their feet.
I climbed out of the Envoy and dashed to their assistance. Problem was I had no idea what to do. Dead bodies were new to me. As were missing persons, kidnappers and ransom demands. But I was learning. Fast.
“Are you okay?” I asked, as Frankie joined me.
“I’m fine.” Reigning Big Boy in by his collar, Val toed the body that lay face down in the snow. “Don’t know about him, though.”
“What happened?”
“I took Big Boy out for his evening constitutional. Got as far as your driveway, noticed you’d put up some lights and stopped to admire them. Then, I spotted someone crouching by the side of the garage. I figured he was a burglar, so I let Big Boy loose and, well, one thing led to another.”
“Such as?” Frankie knelt down to examine the body.
“Big Boy lunged at him. I thought he’d tear the guy to pieces. Turns out all he wanted to do was sniff his crotch. You know how dogs are.”
Yeah. We knew.
“Anyway, this guy wasn’t all that obliging. He tried to push Big Boy away. Big Boy pushed back. Then the guy fell backwards into that drift and I think he hit his head on Muriel’s gnome. See?” She pointed to a mound of snow. “It’s right there. You can see the top of its head. It’s the ugliest gnome I’ve ever seen.”
Frankie looked up at me. “You’ve got a gnome?”
“Gargoyle. And it’s supposed to be ugly. To ward off evil spirits.”
“Doesn’t ward off thieves or burglars,” Val pointed out.
Frankie placed his middle finger on the man’s throat. “He’s alive.”

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

Anne: (I’LL LET YOU ADD THESE LINKS, J) 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, Carol, for hosting me on this 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.

Flowers and Dogs

Finally loaded pics of my yard so I can show you some of my favorite place, the patio and yard. Just because I love it. It's where I have coffee in the mornings, watch birds and just chill, at least on my days off.

The first picture is silly old dog Jasper. Then two yard views. If I dealt well with heat, I'd spend more time writing outside but I love early mornings and late evenings

Decided its time to write another Tali Cates mystery. So that's my current direction in addition to trying to sell to Woman's World.

New projects anyone? Or old projects you are going to renew? I've spent a lot of time exploring genre's but think I really want to go back to my first love, mystery with a paranormal element. So I need to start plotting away. I'm leaning toward making Tali's world and life a little darker and harder to deal with but don't want to give two much away.

Mystery Blog Tour, Vivian Zabel

“Stolen,” is Vivian Zabel’s latestnovel. It’s a story, that for over 12 years was a true nightmare for Vivian and her family. “Stolen” is a story about a young mother’s effort to get her children back after they are “stolen” by her ex-husband.

Vivian’s advice for those wishing
to write a book…Bio

Vivian Zabel always has had a vivid imagination and, when a child, used it to tell her siblings and friends stories. As soon as she could write, she began to put those stories on paper. She wrote her first poetry when she was eight, and still writes it. Poetry was and is her therapy. When a “friend” laughed at her announcement that she would write a book someday, Vivian didn’t share her goal any more, but she didn’t stop planning on writing that book.
As she reared her children and was a stay-at-home-mother, with spells of working in the business world, Vivian wrote short stories, poetry, and articles, which were published. Vivian taught English and writing for 27 years and retired in 2001. Every year she taught, she attended writing classes, workshops, and clinics, not only to learn how better to teach her students, but also to hone her own writing skills. Finally in 2001 she was able to write full time and write longer works, after she retired from teaching.
At present, Vivian has six books to her credit, two co-authored. Her latest books are Prairie Dog Cowboy (written under the name V. Gilbert Zabel), Midnight Hours (written under the name Vivian Gilbert Zabel), and Stolen, released in November 2010.
Her interests besides writing include her family (husband, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren), reading, helping other people publish their books (through 4RV Publishing), and traveling.

As an editor for over thirty-five years, an English and writing teacher for nearly thirty years; an author with poetry, articles, short stories, and novels published over a span of forty-two years (with more than her share of rejections along the way) and the head of a small publishing company for over three years, Vivian Zabel experienced both sides of the submission experience. Since submissions for 4RV go to acquisition editors anonymously (only fair way to do the job), one of her submissions was rejected a couple of months ago.
Her publishing company 4RV Publishing produced the Oklahoma Book Award winner in fiction for 2010: Confessions of a Former Rock Queen by Kirk Bjornsgaard. Other books have received regional awards in their categories. 4RV has released children’s books, middle grade and young adult books, novels, and nonfiction books.
Vivian has also received emails from rejected writers thanking her for sharing evaluation comments that help and some swearing at her for being so blind she can’t tell wonderful writing when she reads it.
Since submissions for 4RV go to acquisition editors anonymously (only fair way to do the job), one of her submissions was rejected a couple of months ago.

Links:

Vivian’s blog: http://vivianzabel.blogspot.com
Vivian’s website: http://VivianZabel.com
4RV Publishing http://4rvpublishingllc.com
Stolen http://Stolen.yolasite.com
Orders (other than from bookstores, online suppliers) http://4rvpublishingcatalog.yolasite.com

1. Read!
2. Learn!
3. Write!

The result of a broken heart – a novel, the writing of Stolen

Over 14 years ago, two of my grandchildren were taken by their father. We had no contact with them, didn't know where they were, didn't know if they were alive or not. The pain nearly destroyed us. We loved them so much, and they were such major parts of our lives, my husband and I felt as if a chunk of our hearts had been ripped out. I can only imagine the agony their mother, our daughter felt. Something had to be done with that severe pain and despair. I turned to my therapy - writing. Stolen was born. Every year for 12 years, around the time they were last seen by anyone in the family, I would blog a letter to them, giving my contact information. A friend asked if he could spread my latest blog, November 2007, through the blogs of his friends around the world. Of course I agreed. Early 2008, I received an email, "I think you're my grandmother." Finally, the novel is released and a sequel will be possible. God does answer prayer; He just sometimes takes much long than we want. If you're interested in reading more about the book visit http://Stolen.yolasite.com. Also my website is http://VivianZabel.com .

Mystery Blog Tour-Regan Taylor.

This is the official beginning of the Mystery Blog Tour and my first guest is the lovely Regan Taylor with her book "The Glass Cage. " Regan, take it away. BTW-Love the cover.

Regan

As I sat down to prepare my post for Carol I took a moment to think about a few of the things she had mentioned about herself and what stuck out for me is that she has some younguns’ in her life. I don’t go into detail but she’s got some under eighteens that are pretty special to her. That led me to thinking about my aunt – kind of the reverse situation. I’m definitely over 18, but my aunt and I share the kind of bond I picked up about Carol and her family.

My aunt Carolyn is the last of my dad’s siblings still living. She’s an awesome woman and over the years I’ve not just heard but been a party to some of her best stories. She’s a fighter in terms of holding on to life and making every day count and has completely supported my writing career.

Two years ago she was going into the hospital to have a pacemaker put in and at 3,000 miles away I was concerned. There were so many things still to tell her and share with her and while the prognosis was good, she was, at the time 84. (She’s now 86 and still an avid reader, especially of my books.) She’d read my sweet western, Indentured Bride and seemed to like my characters. The Spell and The Glass Cage from my McKenna Crime series hadn’t come out yet – but she has said she liked them too. While preparing to go into the hospital and making sure she had enough reading materials she scoured the internet for what might tempt her. She came across my first book – the one I never talk about. Yes, it’s still out there but you have to dig for it.

My aunt was thrilled! She just couldn’t believe her good luck.

Neither could I. (not).

I panicked. I called her and told her not to read it. I called my cousins and asked them to PLEASE take the book away from her. In my world aunts who also happen to be former nuns (another story) aren’t supposed to read certain kinds of books. I was on the fence about the romantic suspenses because, well, sometimes in suspenses and definitely in mysteries, people die. Right?

We all went back and forth debating the wisdom of her reading the book – or any of my others for that matter simply because I had put a label on her age. Okay, that and her former profession or calling. It was my cousin, Mary, who I’m closer to than a sister, who was the voice of reason.

In her matter of fact way she said, “I can’t think of a better way to test out the pacemaker, can you?”

My aunt, however, had a different perspective. Her comment was, “Just because I was a nun 65 years ago doesn’t mean I don’t know the first thing about life and, after all, I did have four children.” And, I might add, in her now 86 years she has seen a lot, maybe more than most of us will in a lifetime.

She is still an avid reader – and for writers and publishers out there – large print. There’s a world of readers out there who would read a lot more if they had large print available for them.

And she is my hero.

You can learn more about my books at

www.Regantaylor.com.

Excerpt -New Bloody Murder

Now, Tali Cates and her best friend, Cherilyn have gone to the old Rayburn house and been driven inside because of storm. The storm isn’t the only scary thing in the old house. Remember to read Privy to Murder then the wait to snap up Bloody Murder on the 7^th won’t seem nearly so long.

Excerpt 3 Bloody Murder Book 2 in the Tali Cates mystery series.

“Shit, shit, shit. We’re going to have a tornado, and it’s not much after noon. They’re not supposed to hit until afternoon or evening.”

“Tell that to those clouds overhead.”

I scanned the kitchen and saw a door on the opposite side from the one outside. “Quick, in here.”

“If it’s a cellar, I’m not going to be trapped inside a death trap.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby. It’s just a pantry but it should protect us.”

She pulled back. “But it’s dark and old and there’s no telling how many critters are in there. Besides, how do you know it’s a pantry?”

I shrugged and pulled open the door, then looked around for light. In the middle of the pentagram on the floor stood a large candle. Plucking that from its resting place might not be good but it was better than being in the dark. I grabbed it, attempting to ignore the energy washing through me.

We barreled through the pantry door and closed it. Now we were in the pitch dark with an unlit candle.

“It’s noon in October, not late afternoon in May,” I shouted. “We shouldn’t be having this strong a thunderstorm.”

“Did you tell that to the weather gods? I don’t think they’re playing by the rules,” Cherilyn yelled back. “How about some light?”

“Do you have a lighter or something?” An abrupt flare of light blinded me as the wick of the candle I held burst into flame. I barely managed to hold onto the wax when I jumped. Thank God I’d dropped the sack of grass at the last thunderclap or I’d have a bag of flame.

“Okay. That was just plain weird. I know you have some gifts, but lighting things with your mind?”

“It wasn’t me. Not on purpose.”

Shelves held the usual things for an abandoned house—dust, cobwebs, more dust, spiders, a discarded, dented can of corn. The hail, wind, and rain had stopped, or else we simply couldn’t hear them, which made no sense. Was this the eye of the storm? I didn’t remember that tornados had an eye; they came and went so fast.

The pantry was enormous, as were Cherilyn’s eyes. She wasn’t looking at me, but above my head somewhere.

“What? What’s wrong?”

She pointed to the wall behind me. “Look.”

I turned. Symbols covered the wall. Most pantries had shelves on at least three walls but this one was as large as a living room, and one wall was covered with hundreds of drawings crammed together, one on top of each other. They glowed with a light of their own—or took the light from the candle. I moved closer to try to identify the drawings but an immediate chill shot through me.

My hands shook, my entire body trembled, sending the candle flame jumping like a demented firefly, throwing shadows in odd shapes all over the wall. I swore the shadows moved on their own. More than anything in the world, I didn’t want to see the things that made those shadows. Fear also moved on its own, pushed into me, froze my blood, stopping all movement, including my heart. Unreasonable fear that made me want to claw my way out of the room took over.

Would Have, Could have

My last post was about writing mistakes. What your worst writing mistake might be. One person wrote that they waited until they were thirty to start writing.

I think that was the thing I should of done for my writing career also. I was in my forties before I knew I really wanted to be a writer and fifty by the time I seriously started thinking in terms of finishing a novel to market and over sixty by the time I finished the mystery and realized mystery and urban fantasy were what I loved to write. Now I'm feeling the pressure of time, however, I'm convincing myself I will be around at least as long as my mother, she's ninety.

I'm not knocking all the non-fiction I published, or the text books, but I wish now I'd put some of that time into fiction instead. Ain't hind sight great? Luckily I was published quickly. Later, will I say getting published in ebook format was a mistake, who knows?

Tell me the one thing you feel you should have done differently with your writing career.