Protection - My First Foray Into Indie Publishing

With so many authors dipping their toes into the Independent Publishing stream, I knew I had to give it a try. I have books published with three small presses and, don't get me wrong, I love my publishers. Publishing independently is just one more way of broadening the scope of my writing.

I often felt as if I was wandering blindfolded in a dark room throughout the process of preparing my manuscript and formatting for publication with Kindle and CreateSpace. Fortunately, I have some very generous writer friends who lent their expertise with editing and formatting. (Without their help and encouragement, I'd no doubt still be bumping into unseen walls.) Today, my book went live on Amazon for Kindle. (The trade paperback is soon to follow). The cover art by Trisha FitzGerald is so perfect for the story. Well, you'll see for yourself--AFTER you read the book!

Jake Garber is a new man after being placed in the witness protection program pending a Federal child-trafficking case in which he’s a witness. Shannon Chase is the identity stolen by a young woman escaping her past to protect her child. A foggy night, a hairpin turn, and a car crash throw Jake and Shannon into one another’s lives where each struggles to protect a secret.

Protection - Romantic Suspense - is now available for Kindle at Amazon.com

International Women's Day

Saturday, March 8 is International Women's Day. To celebrate, I'm presenting a few of the women from my women's fiction books. Just leave a comment for a chance to win the book of your choice (from those pictured below) in either ebook or trade paperback. I'll post the name of the winner here on the blog on Wednesday, March 12 with contact information to claim your prize.

Kate from And The Truth Will Set You Free: 

Kate stared at the fire as she spoke. “I did discover some truths while I was away and I want to say them out loud so I don’t dismiss them. I think that, once you speak a truth, you own it and it owns you.”

Beth from The Year I Lost My Mind: 

My mother will tell you that I have been having a midlife crisis. My best friend will tell you that I am courageous. My husband will tell you that, on my last birthday and for just a little while, I lost my mind.

I will tell you this: Sometimes you have to lose something in order to reclaim it. Sometimes you have to trust the love that holds the seams of your life together and stretch it to a new limit. Sometimes you just have to lose your mind... and follow your heart.

Janet/Hope from Finding Hope:  

Dear family, I quit. Effective immediately, I am no longer the cook, laundress, shopper, housekeeper, chauffeur, landscaper or resident problem-solver. Oh, I’m also not the banker or the ATM. I am, however, the instructor. Classes will begin tomorrow and seating is limited, so you should sign up early...

                                                                                      Janet R. DeMarco,

                                                                                      Wife, Mother, Person

                                                                                      (not necessarily in that order)

Abby from The Restoration of Abby Walker: 

“I was thinking about something I learned about patina when I started to restore furniture.”

“You’re thinking of that now?”

“Yeah. The important thing about patina is that, if you restore something beyond its age, you remove the patina—the essence of what it is, where it’s been. And it loses value. There’s a very fine line you can’t cross.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you put down the sander when you did. You know, that Mulgrew woman was okay. But Abby Walker just takes my breath away.” He traced his fingers down her arm. “And you should see her patina.”

Another lesson crossed Abby’s mind: If you restore, rather than refinish furniture, you will bring the old finish back to life.

Rylee Morgan from Shooting Into The Sun: 

Never shoot into the sun--the voice played in her head. The rules she had learned early in her career never failed to produce flawless photographs. The rules she had developed for life had not served her as well. In the sixteen years since her father’s departure, Rylee had kept herself busy, focused on her career, and safe inside her well-constructed boundaries.

Rylee resituated the tripod and checked the sun’s position. She stepped behind the camera, looked once again through the lens and waited, watching the slight movement of the leaves. Water bubbled over rocks. Slowing the shutter speed, she could create a smooth cascade effect. Blue sky and white clouds reflected on the stream’s surface. This stretch of the rapids where the Youghiogheny River ran through Ohiopyle State Park in Pennsylvania was her favorite spot for shooting.

Her thumb rested on the shutter release, prepared for just the right moment. The breeze subsided and the shadows shifted. Then, just as she pressed the button, some jerk decided to walk on water.

Rylee lifted her head and stared. A hiker made his way across the exposed rocks and into the middle of the narrow river--directly into the center of her view. She walked to the water’s edge and, with hands on hips, shouted, “Excuse me! You’re ruining my shot.”

Meg from Unconditional:

As I settled my purse in the bottom desk drawer, the muffled strains of Ode to Joy sounded. Thomas. I turned off the phone and tossed it back into my purse, resolving to change the ringtone later. I was torn between Before He Cheats and the old Eagles song, Lyin’ Eyes. I didn’t think anyone had recorded a song about castration.

All of my books can be found at www.amazon.com  Be sure to leave a comment here to be entered into the drawing to win a free book in celebration of International Women's Day.

Thanks for stopping by,  Linda

And My Winner Is...

Debra Neiman. 

You won a Kindle download of any one of my books. I've sent an email to you with instructions for collecting your book.

Thanks to all of you who stopped by and joined in the fun!

I hope you all had a Happy Valentine's Day.

Linda

Love Struck Valentine's Day Blog Hop

Ah, February--Love is in the air. I'm participating in the Love-Struck Valentine's Day Blog Hop. To get you in the mood, I'd like to share romantic scenes from a few of my books.

*** Rylee and Josh from SHOOTING INTO THE SUN ***

“Rylee, look at me.”

She raised her eyes to meet his.

“I’m not Vincent. I could never be Vincent. At some point, you’ve got to risk trusting someone again. Trust me, please?”

Until he reached up and gently wiped away a tear with his thumb, she hadn’t realized she was crying. “I want to,” she murmured.

He slid off the stool and grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Rylee, for once, just trust me.”

“Oh. Uh…okay.”

Grasping her hand, he led her across the lobby and into a waiting elevator. As soon as the doors closed, he pulled her against him. “I pushed the button for the top floor. It’s going to be a long ride.” He brushed his lips across hers.

*** Emmie and Sonny from  NEXT TIME I'M GONNA DANCE ***

(In this scene, Emmie has had a second mastectomy and this is the first time she is intimate with a man.)

When Sonny looked into her eyes and reached to slide the camisole over her head, she grabbed his hand. “No, please. I don’t want you to see that.”

“Emmie, there isn’t anything about you that isn’t beautiful to me. Please…” he whispered hoarsely.

She closed her eyes and let him remove her top. She sucked in a sudden breath as his fingers tenderly caressed the scarred remains of her breasts. She kept her eyes closed and turned her head. She couldn’t bear to look at him. When she felt his lips brush across the scars, she gasped as a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She opened her eyes to see him looking at her, his eyes glistening.

“See, I’m still here,” he said as he bent to kiss her again.

*** And then there's Val and Spence from A FALLING STAR ***

            She cleaned the kitchen thoroughly while waiting for the laundry. She was folding Spence’s boxers when he came through the doorway. “I called out, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” He stared at his underwear in her hands. “Eager to get into my shorts?”

            She tossed the folded fabric onto the pile. “I thought I’d be helpful, since I’m here. You’re a real slob, you know?”

            “Thanks. You have a list?”

            “I do. I nearly ran out of note paper, though.”

            He reached for the stack of boxers and socks just as she turned to place his shirts in the basket. The movement brought her head against his chin.

            “Ouch. You have a hard chin.”

            He rubbed his face. “Me? How about your hard head?”

            She grinned. “I get that a lot.” She looked up into his eyes, now dark and serious. Desire thrummed through her.

            His fingers grazed her cheek, then tilted her face up so that her lips met his. The kiss was soft, sure, but not insistent. At least, not at first. His socks scattered across the table as he let go of the clothing and drew her to him. The next kiss was deep and exploring and, in spite of the warning voice in her head, she leaned into him, her body in full contact with his.

            He lifted her onto the table and stepped between her knees.

            She tugged his shirt free from his pants and ran her hands up his back. His skin was hot and smooth.

            Spence pulled away from her mouth and trailed kisses down her neck, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. Val tilted her head back to give him better access, her fingers clutching at his hair. She should stop this but, God help her, she wanted him. It wasn’t so much remembering their trysts from the past. They’d been kids then. This was grown-up lust, with a good measure of curiosity.

            With his hands under her backside, Spence lifted her. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Now head over to the Love Struck Blog Hop home page to enter for a chance to win. Among the prizes are two of my books--A FALLING STAR and IN THE SPIRIT. Just click on the Love-Struck logo.

WAIT--there's more. Shoot me an email with Love-Struck in the subject line to be entered to win either a Kindle download or PDF of any of my books found on Amazon

The Little Road Book

     I am very pleased to welcome author Lynn Romaine who shares a bit about her newest life journey. She has done something many women (and probably a few men) only allow themselves to dream of doing. And then she wrote about. I so appreciate Lynn sharing her story here and I hope it encourages you (and me) to step beyond our fears to embrace those things we long to do.

     Although I know you as an author of Romantic Suspense fiction, you recently self-published The Little Road Book, detailing your travels through part of this country. What prompted you to sell your house, most of your belongings, and set out on this adventure?

     What prompted me was I had no choice, as I had lost all my income except my tiny Social Security and had no retirement whatsoever.  I could not afford to keep my house unless I let it fall down around me.  So what started out briefly as a dire emergency quickly turned into an incredible opportunity to fulfill on my dreams to get back on the road and see the country before I could no longer move about.  Once I started the process of getting the house ready, paying down as much as I could of my rather large credit card debt with a friend sending me her back up work for eighteen months, it got really easy and I was on my way to getting rid of pretty much all of my possessions except a few boxes of books, a couple of boxes of clothes and some family photos and treasures.

     What were the most frightening things you encountered and what were the most gratifying?

     The most frightening things I encountered were less than you would expect. I am someone with somewhat of a daredevil personality but if you can give up that you ‘should not be afraid’ and let yourself be afraid but do whatever you are afraid of anyway, the fear is just one more human emotion that is part of being human and means little (unless someone is truly threatening you and holding a gun to your head—then you should definitely honor the fear).  So I woke up at least a few times over the two years of getting ready to go in cold sweats, worrying over what I would do out in a trailer if I got sick, or how I could possibly travel about and live on so little money.  I did have one major anxiety attack one night about half way through the process of my odyssey but I forced myself up out of bed, went to my computer and put out a call for help on Facebook – ‘Anybody out there at this time of night? Please answer!’ It turned into one of the most gratifying moments when all those friends and strangers responded.  I could list a page of gratifying moments but I’ll only briefly list a few here:  Coming back from my first trip on the road towing a trailer for 40 days feeling like wonder woman – master of my trailer and my world; discovering a passion for writing some nonfiction books, about travel, and about my long lost Great Aunt Rose whom I never met, and finally, simply revisiting the awe and wonder of the natural world, the quiet of the desert, the sunsets, the deserted highways, the wild horses.

    Tell us a little bit about The Little Road Book.

     The Little Road Book (http://tinyurl.com/lrocgbt) is a mini-Blue Highways, that road book so popular in 1982, and came out of my thoughts about good and bad highways, good and bad experiences I encountered and special pictures of places I wanted to remember.  It was also my first try at self publishing so that by the third book, Desert Rose, which is being funded by others in Kickstarter (www.Kickstarter.com) which will come out in early April, I will have enough experience with self publishing to know what I am doing and produce a great little book. The book is only 53 pages, and filled with many photos I took in my travels, along with anecdotes about what I liked and didn’t like on the highway.  Here’s a small excerpt:

     "On September 25th, a Thursday morning, I packed my trailer with the minimum amount of stuff I felt I could not live without, for my six-week long trip. I do feel this is a good rule of thumb for any traveling, whatever the circumstances or resources, to minimize your travel gear.

     So I set off alone, quaking in my moccasins, creeping along heading west out of Bloomington, Indiana for the interstate; the fastest way to get to Marin County in ten days."

     How did this experience change you and/or your life view?

     As I mentioned above, I came home with a sense of power and that aging would not turn me into a little old lady sitting on my front porch watching life pass me by.  At close to 70 I could pull a 16’ trailer across America, hitch and unhitch it, back it in small spaces (over time), work the furnace, the hot water heater, and even empty the sewage! I found I had way less room for sitting around chit-chatting (not that there’s anything wrong with that if you enjoy it; I never have but was unable before my trip to let myself leave something I did not enjoy). I can give myself more space to be annoyed when I am annoyed and however I am moment to moment.  But perhaps the two most important things: 1) I rediscovered a passion for writing which I had lost a few years ago; and  2) I discovered that happiness and joy in life can be found and even created anywhere.

     What would you say to other women who have a dream but might be stopped by fears or doubts?

     I’d say I know it’s scary and hard sometimes in life, but feelings are just feelings and hard is just hard.  It’s part of life.  The most difficult thing, I think, is to find those unfulfilled dreams to pursue.  Over time I found I’d forgotten about mine and sort of fell asleep in life. Being forced to either Live a Life of Survival or Pursue My Dreams, I chose the dreams.  I think everyone can do that if they want whatever your dreams may be.

     What’s next in your journey?

     I’m publishing my three books by April, planning some short trips (one to Mississippi to see you Linda, for a day), perhaps heading to northern Michigan and Canada for a while and then whatever shows up in between then and the end of summer when I plan to head out west again, this time spending more time in a few places like the Rockies and LA to do more research on my Aunt Rose to add to her book.

    What’s next in your fiction writing?

     Fiction writing! Thanks for asking.  I got my taste for writing fiction awakened on my odyssey as I got gas in a tiny town called Rough Rock. I’d just driven for an hour down an empty highway and seen the most beautiful wild white horse. I was standing there pumping gas into my Subaru, the wind whipping my coat, thinking about wild horses, when I glanced through the gas pump and saw the most amazingly beautiful Indian face on a woman about thirty-five who was pumping gas into her dirty black Chevy Blazer.  I smiled at her and she smiled back. In that moment a brand new suspense book took shape in my head.

     Anything else you’d like to add?

  

    No and thank you for asking but I’ve said enough for now. 

    Where can you be found/followed on the web?

   www.WomenWalkabouts.blogspot.com

   www.Lynnromaine.com

   www.Writingtonight.blogspot.com

I Hope This Is A Four-Act Play!

I’ve reached that stage in life—the ‘Third Act’ (a term attributed to Jane Fonda)—where one spends as much time looking back at what has been as one spends looking forward to what might be. It's a time of reinvention and re-creation.

Becoming a woman is an amazing journey. We have all kinds of markers we assign to it—a girl gets her first period, she’s a woman; a young woman sets out on her own for the first time, she’s a woman; a young woman becomes a wife and starts a family, she’s a woman. Well, you get the idea.

Life has been separated into stages: infancy, childhood, youth, young adulthood, adulthood, middle age, and old age. This seems way too complicated and involves too many transitions for me. But I do think there’s a missing piece in here. It can be ever so brief, but it’s there. It’s that transition between middle age and old age. I don’t have a name for it, but I know it. I reached that stage at somewhere around fifty and I truly believe that’s when I became a woman, when I embraced womanhood. I orchestrated my own fiftieth birthday party down to the dinner napkins. I was determined to make it a true celebration of what had been and what was to come and I was the only one who knew me well enough to do it, much to the dismay of my friends who wanted to plan a party.

I found a great old photo of my parents probably taken around the time I was a toddler. I transferred my favorite baby picture onto the front of a tee-shirt with my birth date and, on the back, transferred the photo of my parents with a heading: Brought to you by…. It meant much more to me than those in attendance at my celebration could have realized. I was owning who I was and where I came from as I prepared to move forward. A lot changed that year. I not only turned fifty, I packed up and moved nine hundred miles away from home and took on a new job. I had a wonderful, spacious new apartment all to myself. I lived with ME. I took a step into that next invisible stage that was no longer middle age (let’s be honest, fifty is only the middle if you’re sure you’ll make it to one hundred) and not yet old age.

The following few years were a time not unlike adolescence but without all the raging hormones. (Okay, maybe not ALL.) It was a time of uncertainty, searching, trial and error, alternately loving and hating myself, discovering new truths and passions. It was a time of anticipation, knowing something new and exciting and fresh was just ahead. I only had to keep moving forward and keep my eyes (and heart and mind) open. It was a time of falling in love. With me. With the woman I was becoming. She was stronger, more perceptive, more certain in her opinions and quicker to express them. If I’d become panty hose, I’d have been called No Nonsense. My tolerance for nonsense was depleted. Every moment has purpose, meaning. Now that’s not to say there’s no fun. I became my own best source of laughter, much freer to see the humor in my own attitudes and actions and foibles. I stopped taking myself so seriously. I stopped worrying so much about what other people think or how they perceived me. I stopped being afraid to just be me.

We can focus on the changes that come with aging that are hard to look at and accept—our bodies shift and droop and sag (well, some of ours do), our memory might not be the steel trap it once was, we endure losses we never imagined in our families and friends. We sometimes fail to see the changes that should be celebrated and embraced—what some call the wisdom that comes with maturing.

I finally embraced my passion for writing. I’d always been drawn to some form of creativity—writing poetry and music, drawing and painting, photography, performing music. The gift that came to me when I slowed down, breathed in and let the gift come to me was that of writing. Serious writing. My love for books and the desire to write. I knew the instant I began that first book that THIS was my passion. It unearthed and released joy in me that had been too long dormant. Everyone’s passion is different and each of us will discover it in our own way and time. If we’re open. See, I believe that’s the purpose of this in-between stage of life. To stand in the middle and re-evaluate and pack up those things we truly need that will carry us forward, shed the things we’ve carried and that no longer serve us. Now every day dawns brand new. It always did, but who knew? Really.

Sometimes a sunrise and a sunset look remarkably the same.

I was recently asked in an interview what I would like to say to my younger self. It’s the same thing I say now at this stage as I enter the Third Act of my life: Trust yourself more, worry less about what others think, and do not let fear hold you back. I would also add to that—know who your friends are and cherish them. We need each other on this magnificent, sometimes scary, always awesome journey.

I hope this is a four-act play because I’m just getting my speed up and ready to sail into 

Act Three.

Happy sailing, Linda

Linda Rettstatt--Writing for Women

www.lindarettstatt.com

Life's an adventure, wear comfortable shoes.

Ten Years A Writer

Ten years ago this week, I sat at a computer and stared at the blank screen, wondering where to begin. I had a title—And The Truth Will Set You Free. I had a character—Kate Reynolds. Kate because I’ve always like the name and Reynolds because it’s an old family name on my paternal grandmother’s side of the family.

I sat and stared because I wondered what story lay within this title and this character. And, then, I began to write:

Prologue

“Every journey begins with one step...”

Kate read the words beneath a calendar picture of footprints on a path that ran alongside a narrow river and disappeared into a pristine wood. The trees glowed in varying shades of orange, yellow and red, and a covered bridge spanning a creek was visible in the distance. Even though it was March, Kate had, for some reason, kept this picture from October hanging on the wall behind her desk. She took a minute every morning, with the cup of Starbucks she picked up on her way into the State Office Building, and reflected upon the picture and the words beneath it. She envisioned herself stepping onto this path and into the footprints. Where would they take her? What journey awaited her step?

~ * ~

I had no idea at the time how writing these words would impact my life, would open a door in my own soul and allow the passion I’d so long held hostage to escape. I had no idea I was taking that first step into what has been an amazing ten year journey.

All I knew when I began to write And The Truth Will Set You Free is that I wanted to see if I could write a book. I didn’t know there were actual rules for writing. I was pretty much clueless about the parameters for various genres. I just knew I had this story I wanted to tell. Kate’s story. In a way, my story. During the writing of this first book, I often found myself laughing out loud, weeping, feeling frustrated and unsure. I thought I was writing the story Kate was telling me about her journey. Two years after the first writing while I was buried in edits—my first experience working with a real editor—I came to realize that my story and Kate’s story were irrevocably intertwined. Kate’s journey was my dream. And she graciously allowed me to ride along and take notes.

I ventured into this world of writing and graduated from writer to author completely clueless. I thank God for the generous writers and publishers (Wings ePress, Champagne Books, Turquoise Morning Press) and editors who were kind enough to turn me and point me in the right direction time and time again. I was stunned when this first book published in 2007 finaled for an EPIC eBook Award in 2008 in Mainstream Fiction. I knew the joy and energy I felt through following my passion for writing. I think you know something is right when it gives back far more than it demands. This is what writing does for me. I could no more stop writing than I could stop breathing.

I sometimes think I waited far too long to set off on this amazing, demanding, rewarding venture as a writer. But I’m also a believer that things happen in their own time or when the time is right. I’m not announcing my age when I began writing, let’s just say I came into the profession well-seasoned.

With twenty books written, seventeen of those already published and a file of ‘to-be-written’ ideas that, if printed on paper would stack from floor to ceiling, I can only say I think I’m onto something here. I love writing women’s fiction because I think we women can be so simple and at once so deeply complicated. I love the way women will stand up for one another and call each other out in the name of truth. I love the honesty in women’s fiction. But I’m also a romantic at heart and why fight it? I tried to blame my romance author critique partners, but I have to admit that writing romance is just so darned much fun. This past year I even delved into the paranormal realm, a place I never thought I’d go. But with a likable ghost (think Nathan Fillion as Richard Castle), it wasn’t nearly as scary as I anticipated. Who knows where I’ll go next? I do love a challenge.

I was recently asked what I would say to my younger self. Without giving it much thought at all, the following words came to mind: Trust yourself more, worry less about what others think, and do not let fear hold you back.

I could look back with regret and wish I’d known this many years earlier, or I can embrace these words now and live in them, every single moment. A friend gave me a cross-stitched wall hanging that says: The past cannot be changed; the future is whatever you want it to be. I intend for my future to be grounded in trusting myself, letting the opinions of others bear no weight, and running headlong into and through the fears that hold me back. My image for this is of a ‘well-seasoned’ woman flying along on a bicycle with hands raised, head back, laughing. Hang on with me, ‘cause it’s going to be a wild ride!

Now, the fun part. To thank all of my readers and faithful followers and those of you who took the time to read this post and offer a comment, I'll be drawing a name to give away a signed copy of any of my print books (or an ebook, if preferred). It's easy, just post a comment, then click here EMAIL and send me an email with 'I commented' in the subject line. I'll announce a winner on Sunday, January 19. (The email just lets me know how to contact you.)

                                                                                                                              Linda