My Calling

Is it that simple? Do people have "callings?" Does it sound preachy? (God forbid.) "Callings" are not an easy life. People take a lot of sh... okay, I'll be sweet ... FLACK for a "calling."

But, I have been called--to the life of writer and speaker. No other time in my life have I been surer of that fact, than the past two days.

I spoke Tuesday at the Winston-Salem Rotary, a larger Rotary group of men and women, approximately 200 strong in the audience. This prestigious group of dedicated and long-term Rotarians opened their hearts to me. I’m always a little hesitant before giving the speech, COMING OUT OF THE DARK AND INTO THE LIFE OF A WRITER, because I do lay my soul open for all to see … and some of it isn’t pretty. However the speech is inspirational and uplifting. Tuesday, I bore witness to that fact.

Several Rotarians greeted me as I finished my presentation and walked down the steps to proceed to my book-signing table. They wanted to shake my hand. They relayed how the power of the message moved them. Several prominent businessmen in the group wanted a copy of the speech. But one Rotarian stands out in my memory. A black man, distinguished, tall and handsome, he stood in his beautiful suit with pools of tears in his eyes. He shook my hand with vigor and said he’d been going through some trying times. That my speech blessed him and inspired him.

I was touched beyond words. I hugged him. I had to. It’s all I know how to do to respond to a statement like that.

The line formed for signing books. Many bought multiples, and nearly every person wanted to shake my hand, touch me, and tell me they appreciated my speech. Or they marveled at the way God had brought me to this place in my life.

I thought about it later. I’m constantly inspired myself, because I oftentimes feel like I’m in an out-of-body experience. Like I’m watching this all happen from a distance. At times, I’m blown away by the magnitude of the response to the speech. Riveted to their seats, audiences lean in and listen intently-- this country girl has something so vastly different to say from their normal weekly presentations.

I realize I'm not the only woman with a story to tell. And so many have gone through things I haven't ... like dreaded diseases or losing loved ones close to them. But this is a story nobody's heard. Something different. My story. A speech that until now, few if any, have stood at a microphone and spoken the words.

Today, I spoke to the Randolph Rotary in Asheboro. A smaller group, but a wonderful group of Rotarians. They too welcomed me with open arms and yes, the response mirrored the response of the Winston-Salem Rotary. This group has positively affected the lives of so many--within our borders and outside the U.S. Small but mighty, the Randolph Rotary is a shining example of Service Above Self.

Months ago, before writing this speech, I contemplated long and hard its content. I read and reread the quote by Harlan Ellison – “It is not enough to love literature, if one wishes to spend one’s life as a writer. It is a dangerous undertaking on the most primitive level. For, it seems to me, the act of writing with serious intent involves enormous personal risk. It entails the ongoing courage for self-discovery. It means one will walk forever on the tightrope, with each new step presenting the possibility of learning a truth about oneself that is too terrible to bear.”

And yet, Harlan Ellison also said, … “You cannot discourage a real writer … break a real writer’s hands, and s/he will tap out a story with feet or nose.”

And so … I wrote the speech, COMING OUT OF THE DARK AND INTO THE LIFE OF A WRITER. I'm nobody special. I know that. But I also know I have a destiny.

To write great stories. To speak and inspire the masses with the story of my life. This is my calling.

And the past two days … validated it.

Blessings to you and yours.

West By God Virginia

Take me home ... country roads. It's a song near and dear to my ole' hillbilly heart. Sunday started early. At the crack of daylight, Michael and I headed for peak season--Fall color in the mountains of West Virginia, and the West Virginia Book Festival.

The weather grew colder leaving our blessed Carolina sunshine. But the breathtaking landscape around Fancy Gap, Wytheville, and Bland, Virginia on the way to the rugged Appalachian mountains of WV is something to behold. The color was magnificent. In my mind, I saw my dad as a young man with his red and black plaid wool coat, his hunting cap, and his rifle by the door. He was ready to hunt a few deer, maybe snag a squirrel or two ... "Good eatin', " he'd say. My blood warms every time I travel back to the land of my birth.

There's something about it. Something that draws me. As much as I love North Carolina and have no plans to ever leave it, the hills of West Virginia bring me much comfort. Autumn being my favorite season, it was a great reason to head to Charleston.

The best part of the book festival was meeting Rhonda White and Ross Ballard. Two great WV writers. Their love of words and books mirrored my own. Rhonda writes medical thrillers and Ross? Well, Ross is a man of many talents. He is also an actor and producer, I think I may be seeing Ross in the future about putting my book on tape/audio/cd. Rhonda, if I didn't know better, I'd say she was my long-lost sister ... I'm sure we'll meet again. Maybe for a tall, cold one. What do you think, Rhonda?

I sat at the West Virginia Writers table for a couple hours, signing books, greeting passersby, and speaking to other writers about the writing process and my book. A satisfying and relaxing trip, I'm looking forward to coming back in December and my speech at the Vandalia Rotary in Charleston.

My cousins popped in later in the day, they were a sight for tired eyes! I loved seeing them again. Mick and Donna, Charlie, Denise, and Debbie ... a great time with the kinfolk, and dinner at a fabulous Charleston Italian Restaurant. The Samples family has been a great supporter of me and my work ... I am ever grateful to them.

Traveling back home Monday morning, we stopped at Tamarack. Look it up. It's a great tourist stopping point on 77 South. They're carrying my book! Southern Fried Women can be purchased at Tamarack! Thrilled, I dubbed the short mini-trip to WV ... a total success!

If you ever get the notion to really see the beauty of the East Coast Mountain ranges ... they can be found in Tennessee, Georgia, North Carolina, Virginia, and West, by God, Virginia ... because it is ... a mountain range made by the hand of God. I know they're not the Rockies. But the Appalachian mountains have their own unique appeal, climate, and people.

And, by God, I'll go every chance I get.

Blessings to you and yours.

Oprah and Rita

Oprah came to Greensboro this week-end. And so did Rita Rosenkranz. Oprah came to an event at Bennett College ... Rita?

Well, Rita came to Greensboro for the Writers' Group of the Triad, UNCG, and so many writers in the triad ... wanting to hear from a real live New York Literary Agent ...

Michael and I picked Rita up at the airport, toured her around Greensboro, and took her to dinner where members of the WGOT board and a few others gathered at the OHenry Hotel's Green Valley Grill. We toasted and hosted this prominent figure of the Industry.

Rita will speak Sunday Evening from 2-4 pm in the auditorium of Weatherspoon Art Gallery Corner of Spring Garden and Tate Streets. Although Rita is a non-fiction literary agent, she is connected with many writers, agents, editors, and publishers in the industry and will answer questions about fiction, short stories, memoirs, writing for children, etc.

The day was filled will endless sunshine, warm autumn breezes blew over Dixie today. A great day. Because how many women like Oprah come to Greensboro? Not many ... but hey ...

... Rita Rosenkranz is in town too.

Blessings to you and yours.

Oh … To Pee In My Own Potty

Ain’t it the truth ladies? Do you not hate public toilets with gaps in the doors? Wide enough for every four-year old to peek through! Or the Rest Areas where you have to walk a half-mile up a hill to stinky toilets? And why is there always a line? Then there’s McDonalds … where you never plan to eat, just a quick stop to use the facility and they look at you like … “Hey! You ought to a least buy some fries if you’re gonna use our toilet!”

I won’t even mention the truck stops and gas stations where the same sex toilets are so nasty you walk in and walk right back out swearing you’ll pee in your pants before spending two seconds in there. Used condoms on the floor, unflushed toilets, lids up … sorry for this sexist statement, but my husband agrees … men are pigs when it comes to public toilets. Searching frantically in my purse for antibacterial gel, I run to the car. Off to find a clean bathroom, even if it’s a hotel lobby somewhere … at least those are usually clean. And Lord knows, I’m no prude …I ’ve done my share of squatting in the woods, but I’ll take that over a filthy restroom any day.

Sigh. It’s a female curse. A literal road hazard.

Thank God, for my patient husband. Middle age will not allow me to wait long before I’m hollering … “I gotta pee … NOW!”

Anyway … after one too many stops on the way to Asheville, we finally landed at our last destination before going home. I’m dead-dog tired.

Malaprops. A bookstore that will make your head spin. The place is amazing. I presented my offering to the goddess behind the desk, in hopes she would catch a glimpse of the halo above my head and realize I’m worth a read … and possibly a book signing! We’ll see … I’ll let you know.

Asheville is the coolest town. Shops, cool bars, and neat restaurants. All in the backdrop of the mountains. Breathtaking. The leaves looked brighter in North Carolina, maybe because we were on our way home.

I arrived safely back in Archdale to 237 emails. I’m sorting through them … but all I can say at the moment, is it’s so good to be home, I nearly hugged my toilet.

Blessings to you and yours.

Farewell To Memphis, For Now

A trolley car took us from our hotel to downtown … Beale Street, again ... and the Gibson Showcase. Gibson … guitars. Ring a bell? They make Gibson guitars there … needless to say; Michael was in “hawg” heaven. My husband, having taught guitar, plays beautifully and is in the market for a new one … but that $2,000 item is going to have to wait a few more months.

Dressed to the nines, we went to what we thought would be a killer party. Crowded, about 300 authors/spouses/whatever showed up … but only for a buffet dinner. (We were way overdressed … I suppose T-shirts and blue jeans are okay no matter who you are and where you go these days … I’m just a little old fashioned, I suppose.)

Tennessee Humanities didn’t have a program or even a welcome, just the obvious … tables and balloon centerpieces, an open bar, and a long table of catered food. And I didn’t see anyone I really knew or recognized. The bigger name authors, to my knowledge, didn’t show up. But I suppose … maybe that’s a good thing. The rest of us schmoozed with each other … it was fun for a while, but I was ready to head out early.

Another walking trip up Beale, loud blues and jazz bellowing out from a dozen bars, parties of all ages, even a bridal shower party in pink shirts and cowgirl hats (a bridal posse) … strolled down the street. But it was time for another trolley ride to the hotel and sleep for me …

I’m such a party animal … zzzzzzzzzzz

This morning we headed back to Knoxville … up at the crack of oh, I don’t know … eggs in a pan for me … pancakes for Mike … yet another Cracker Barrel knock-off. Some Cracker Barrel wanna be. It was okay … hot food and a shot of coffee to our bloodstream … a necessary evil when you’re looking at putting 400 plus miles behind you in one day.

Traveling to Knoxville … Sunday … football all the way … (my headsets were glued to my head, tuned into my I pod … Fleetwood Mac, Allison Kraus, and Bruce Springstein.) The road ahead-- due East. I 40 looks the same in every state it crosses. Arriving at our last hotel for this trip, we prepare for one last stop on Monday morning.

The Mama bookstore of them all … Malaprops in Asheville, North Carolina.

Stay tuned …

Blessings to you and yours.

Elvis Is Everywhere, Man

The tour started at 10:30. A shuttle over to the grounds, the house looked small. A small Southern farm plopped down in the middle of the busy streets of Memphis. Compared to the mansions of the “stars” of today, the house was no bigger than some I see around Greensboro. But Elvis loved it. As materialistic as you think he was, he really … wasn’t.

The tour (self-guided) was crowded, but I enjoyed it -- immensely. Strolling around and through his home was surreal. I wondered if he could see us, invading Graceland, and if he’d rather that we … not.

But … the first glimpse of the inside, (think avocado green, orange, shag carpet, red velvet, white fur beds, and eight track tapes) totally 60s and 70s décor, was in a word … TACKY. But that was the period of the day we lived in back then. We were all tacky. Every last one of us. Elvis was just a little more flamboyant about his tackiness. He loved his home. You could feel it.

The man had more money than Donald Trump … he could’ve sold and bought homes all over the world. Each one a little bigger than the last. But not Elvis. Memphis was home to him. The poolroom, the stables, the jungle room, (oh Lord, it looked like a bunch of wild animals had been laid to rest in there, their skins covering the gaudiest looking furniture I’ve ever seen in my life.) But it reflected a life so far removed from the mainstream.

The whole house and grounds is now a national landmark. Can you imagine how Lisa Marie must feel; knowing her family home is a national landmark? Her home, a virtual museum? But Elvis represents a generation of men and women; some of us still babies when he made his first hit record. I remember him best as a man recreating himself in the 70s in Las Vegas, white leather jumpsuits, sweaty faces, and middle-aged spread. Yet Elvis was more than that. A gifted musician, a philanthropist, a giver of cars/homes/help, he wanted to be loved as he loved, adored as he adored others, and needing peace ... he went back to his roots ... his first love of Gospel and Country and Blues ... and Graceland.

I don’t think people like Elvis were ever meant to see old age. Elvis, John Lennon, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Natalie Wood … I don't believe these beauties could handle aging. They were here for their time. A short time, but it revolved around them at the height of their careers and the prime of their lives. When they were the most beautiful. And when their lights went out, the world stood still for a moment. The rest of us ... remain to age.

Elvis lives everywhere … today … you can see it in the mourners filing past his grave. A beloved man, his music – groundbreaking … his life – a legend. (Note to tourists ... please do the rest of us a favor and DON'T take your children under 18 to Graceland. They don't understand it, and unless they behave, they ruin the moments for the rest of us who pay to see it!) But then of course, I believe that applies to taking children ANYWHERE in public. Another blog subject for another time ... perhaps.

A quick stop at Burke’s Book Store in Memphis (close to downtown.) Another older store, but quick with character as soon as you enter. Thousands of titles, established and easy to find, I felt at home immediately. I gave my book and press kit to a kind manager, who seemed … rather interested … I guess.

He was friendly, that was good and I can only hope this awesome store orders my awesome book. But only God will know that, in the end. They did, however, steer us to a great place for lunch … Huey’s! A local lunchtime bonanza. Sandwiches, burgers, red beans and rice, lots of great stuff. A local favorite, the place was packed.

Tonight … I’m off to a gala event for authors at a fancy/schmancy place on Beale Street. Tomorrow morning … we head back to Knoxville, and then home. I’ve not opened my email in a week. God help me.

Blessings to you and yours.

Hey, Y’all

I felt like crap the morning of my presentation. Nervs? Who knows. Maybe the time change. Memphis is an hour behind Greensboro and I wasn’t taking to the spicy food well. So we got dressed and headed to the festival early. I had hoped to feel better before my talk at 2:00. We ducked into the Marriott and the Magnolia Grille for lunch, and who do you think sat at the table next to me? Rolled in sitting in a wheelchair, I thought perhaps she’d broke her foot or something, but managing to get seated just fine, she giggled like a school girl. Lee Smith!

I thought about going over, just to say "hey." (I’m sure she didn’t recognize me.) But I felt … well, like she needed her space. And I wasn’t quite up to schmoozing … so I let the woman and her friend eat in peace. Two other gentlemen joined them later, but Michael and I relaxed and enjoyed our own lunch before heading to the festival.

(I relished the fact that I was sitting just feet from one of my all time favorite authors, a legend in these parts. Lee Smith. Sigh. She may never recognize me, but I'll always enjoy seeing her--even from a distance.) My point is, you just never know, aspiring authors, who you’re going to see at conference/trade show/book festival. Take Note!

A 2:00 p.m. presentation, a panel with Melinda Rainey Thompson, author of SWAG. We were given the topic, The Truth and the Fiction about Southern Women for the hour. Melinda and I both felt we’d have no problem coming up with enough material to wow our audience. Melinda went first, spoke graciously about how she developed the book, its content, and about the Southern woman from her point of view. Then she read from her non-fiction book, SWAG - Southern Women Aging Gracefully. It speaks to the hearts of so many women at various ages and times in their lives but especially the Southern woman. The chapters and her lists of everything Southern, stand alone, and are humorous yet thought provoking. I loved it. I bought a copy and took it back to the hotel to devour it. A great read. It should be on every woman's book shelf.

Thing is, Melinda and I worked very well together. We had the Southern woman, truth vs. fiction (a fine line, don't you know it) all sewed up! An audience of over 50 people, laughed and cried with us … an experience I’ll not forget anytime soon, I assure you.

I spoke next, read from Southern Fried Women, and the reaction and response thrilled me to the bone. When mentioning my novel, Televenge, the ooo’s and ahhh’s were the same as always. The response to my constant pitch of my novel is now universal. I swear. The same everywhere I talk about it. It's on its way, folks. I'm finding time to work on it ... no matter how busy I am.

But then, the real excitement had just begun. After speaking we were to head to the tables in front of the building. The weather was perfect. Sunny, blue, warm skies and no wind. The crowds mixed and mingled in and out of the buildings. As I walked through the grand lobby where the books of all the authors were being sold, someone grabbed my arm! "Ms. Cable, you’ve sold out of all your books, do you happen to have any more with you?"

Shock!

Michael had watched woman after woman pick up my book that morning and buy it. After finding we were down to 0 books, he ran to the car and then back into the building with books under his arm to supply the table. Twice!

I signed books and festival posters, and later went to dinner happy as a pig in … well … let’s just say barbeque!

Speaking of bbq … another evening walk to Peabody’s (the hotel with the ducks) okay … look it up … and then dinner at a restaurant you’d never know existed except someone said to go. Rendezvous. Exclusive, sultry, smokey, secluded, and very, very Memphis. You have to find the alley it’s in first. No sign, no storefront. No presence … not until you walk down a flight of stairs and enter a world from another time. Waiters, all older African-American males … white shirts, black bow-ties, aprons, and big smiles … dry-rub barbeque ribs, beans, slaw, roles and a pitcher of ice-cold beer! It wasn’t long and we realized we got there just in time. The wait for a table soon became an hour long. The rich folk who stay at Peabody's had found the alley.

But the wait is worth every tasty morsel. More spicey food for my tummy, but I figured it might be a while before getting back to Memphis, so I dug in with all ten fingers. Later that evening I decided to only eat light the next few days … I’d had enough pig for one week.

Hey, Y’all … go to Memphis! It’s an experience nobody should miss! At least once in your life … travel to the land of Elvis, the Mississippi River, cooked pig, and home of the Blues. It’ll do your ole’ heart some good.

Tomorrow, Graceland … in all its glory.

Blessings to you and yours.

Walkin’ On The Beale

After breakfast at Cracker Barrel, a chemical spill on I-24 West, dead stop traffic, lots of backpedaling, and a 45-minute detour through the countryside around Nashville, Michael and I finally arrived at Lightning Source and Ingram. An 11 a.m. tour through the facility (and omigosh, what an amazing facility) lasted over an hour. Lightning Source (my distributor owned by Ingram) … talk about high-tech! Thousands and thousands of square feet of space, taking up several blocks, prints and distributes even more thousands of books each year for publishers all over the country.

(Lunch at Hardees-yippee-how original) and a quick trip to Ingram to meet book buyer/author, Alethea Kontis. She has a new story in the latest issue of InterGalactic Medicine Show, an online magazine by Orson Scott Card http://www.intergalacticmedicineshow.com/ and edited by my close friend, Ed Schubert. Ed hooked me up with Alethea and after reading her awesome story, Small Magics, I had to meet her. It was no surprise to learn she was on her way to Memphis for the Book Festival, as well. Her new book Alpha Ooops!, a children’s picture book, is a scream … beautifully illustrated … fun!

The Tennessee landscape rolls from the Great Smokey Mountains to miles of white-crusted cotton fields. Acres of cotton, large farms all butted up against the Interstate. It’s a sight to see--a picture of the old South. My mind fills with story. I see the character and his mule … my plot thickens … hmmm … I take notes on the way to the next book store stop. The old man, his hair blends with the cotton, tells me about his mule … I’ll talk to him from time-to-time on this trip.

We arrive in Dickson, Tennessee. The little town reminds me of a tiny Asheville. Volume One Book Store is 30 miles outside of Nashville and appears to be more of a Hallmark Card Shop on the outside. But on entering, it’s a book lover’s paradise. An older store, yet one of those places you could loose yourself in. A store where browsing is involved. Here you stay all day and forget the time. With smiling faces, they took my book and press kit, promising to let me know if they’re interested in a book signing … I walked away, again satisfied, having met yet another book store owner.

(Note to writers: You don’t meet “owners” in Barnes & Noble, that’s for darn sure. It’s nice to meet the real decision-makers instead of employees who “have to send it to Corporate first.” Gotta love those independent book stores! And yes, Dena, they have cats! Especially the older stores, there's always a cat sprawled out over a book case or at the register counter. A fat cat that gives you that Mae West look and purrs, "For an extra dollar you can pet me. Go ahead, I dare ya.")

Cover to Cover, a little book store in Arlington, a suburb of Memphis, already had my book on their shelves! Thrilling! I felt so honored and the owner, a sweetheart, inquired as to a book signing in the Spring.

Off to Memphis, a quick look-see at the Convention Center and the set-up of the Book Festival, a check-in to our hotel, and then a hop, skip, and a boogy down to Beale Street. “Walkin’ on the Beale …” I get goosebumps thinking about it. What a place of history. Memphis is all about two things in my estimation. Music and barbeque.

The weather--cold and a bit raw, and the street not as crowded as anticipated. But the atmosphere, the home of the blues, drew me in. The bars, the lights, the sounds of the music echoing out to the street, a street (only two blocks long) where there are only pedestrians and no cars … it’s soothing to the soul. Dinner at Hardrock, too tired to go any further, we caught a cab back to the hotel.

Tomorrow it’s an amazing journey into the world of an author at her first invitation to speak at a major book festival! Stay tuned.

Blessings to you and yours.

Schmoozing

Writing, it has been said of late, is the easy part. It’s what you must do after the book is done that can be a real bitch! Schmoozing … a process of interacting with the industry. Authors MUST learn this ancient art. A necessary piece of the public relations puzzle in book promotion!

Most hate it … I enjoy it. Never having a shy bone in my body, I’m very much at home meeting new people. But if you’d rather slit your wrists than leave the comfort of your computer desk, then you need to find a way to motivate yourself … have deep pockets to hire it done … or hope your publisher thinks you’re the next J.K. Rowling and your book will outsell the Bible while they throw all caution to the wind and spend umpteen thousands of dollars to promote your work. Well, hmmm, I suppose it’s the dream of all authors … but unfortunately, not the reality. So buck up literati, learn how to smile, put on some nice clothes, take a speaking class, network and get out there!

And here’s the thing, new authors … even if your publisher agrees to put you on the road, making your connections for you, bookstores, TV appearances, radio spots, etc. it’s usually not for more than two to three weeks. You have little input, and when that blitz is over … it over. The rest is up to you. Be prepared to put your own publicity plan into motion. Two, three, even a month of constant publicity is not enough. Sorry to burst your bubble. Enough said.

We left North Carolina at 7 a.m. Our first stop on the way to Memphis landed us in Knoxville. Carpe Librum … classy, older store. I met the two owners just briefly. Friendly and welcoming I felt a warm sense they were truly interested in my book … they seemed to recognize the cover and both owners appeared to be very supportive to authors. I noticed many new titles on their shelves … the store was polished, yet a place where I imagined many in the community relaxing or searching for their next interesting read. I look forward to visiting that store in the future. Busy street, great store front, all around fantastic store.

A bonus store, one we didn’t have information on, but noticed across the street … Hargreaves … a new store only 8 months old. Their titles are not all the same as Carpe Librum, but the store owners were pleasant, even their dogs – two Corgi’s whose names escape me. They (the store owners, not the dogs) took my information with enthusiasm. (A press kit made up especially for this trip.) They said they would read the book and contact me … I’m happy with that.

Speaking of “shops around the corner,” we went in search of our next bookstore, The Shop Around The Corner (conjures up the You’ve Got Mail movie, doesn’t it?) … but alas, it was nowhere to be found. Either gone out of business, or so well hidden only the locals know of its location. NOTE to authors … if you’re seeking out the next bookstore to visit, check the web. If they don’t have a web site, chances are they’re not in business or haven’t the first clue as to promoting their store (or you.)

Off to Athens, Tennessee and in search of Village Book Shoppe. Two sweet ladies behind the counter, one the owner … seemed somewhat interested. Kind of hard to read, but the store was bright and friendly, and I always come away with high hopes.

Next stop on Wednesday was A Novel Idea … a store in Chattanooga. Great location, college area, quaint shops and at first, I wasn’t sure if it was just a store that sold only used books, but upon entering I could see they had a new book section. Great old store with lots of character. High ceilings, old plank floors that creaked, and a sweet storeowner that worked her own counter. (I love that.) I shook her hand …

“I’m on my way to the Southern Festival of Books in Memphis, stopping by book stores on the way, I’d like to introduce myself and my book …”

“Oh yes, I’ve seen this somewhere … were you at SIBA?”

“Why, yes …” And the conversation is off and running! You can do this too!

The next bookstore involved a trip up a winding, rather scary (yet beautiful) road on a side of a mountain to a town called Signal Mountain in search of Wild Hare Books. Owner, Judy, greeted Michael and I with a bright and cheery hello and a smile. Her tiny store was an obvious force in her community. My eyes immediately caught sight of the shelves for Southern writers! … and we clicked. I anticipate hearing from Judy in the future!

Lunch at Corkys Barbeque in Knoxville (traffic was horrible in Knoxville.) Corkys’ bbq … okay … certainly wasn’t Carter Brothers. Dinner … not worth mentioning … fast and cheap we were too tired to care and just crashed at a fast Italian food place before following bread crumbs back to our hotel and falling into bed.

Tune in tomorrow for the next days adventures of Mike and Pam’s trip to the wilds of Tennessee and the even wilder hunts for book stores! And then there’s the trip to Ingram and Lightning Source … What a tour!

Blessings to you and yours.

On The Road Again

Finally, access to the Internet, but alas, cannot get into my email until I get home … I shall start at the beginning of this journey …

Last Wednesday morning early … breakfast at Panera on the run! On the way to the Southern Festival of Books in Memphis, Tennessee I closed my eyes. Leaving North Carolina I felt like Loretta Lynn … there she was, in the back seat of the ’53 Chevy, Doolittle is driving in the front, her arms are around Doolittle’s neck, kissing his cheek … “You want me to look for the radio towers, Doo?”

Mike I hit the road again, but my eyes were not searching for radio towers … we were following the route for bookstores!

I had hoped to blog from the road, but our little laptop is not built for wireless … and these days that’s about all the hotels have available. So not only could I not blog, there was no checking email either. The Sleep Inns on our route don’t have business centers in the lobby … and though we attempted to slip into other hotels and use their computers, they’ve caught on. Nowadays you have to use special codes/room keys/whatever … But I decided to “blog” on my computer’s Word program, then convert it to my real blog when I get access to the Internet … “There’s more than one way to skin a rabbit!” (Sorry, Dena, it’ an old saying from way-back.)

Productive and enlightening, public relations work is something every author needs to master. It’s all part of selling your work to the masses …. that integral piece of the puzzle in building your platform, making friends with your “fans,” finding your way in the literary jungle. And it starts with … drumroll …

Behold, The bookseller!

They may need you, but believe me, you need them!

Let’s put the big boys aside for a moment. Barnes & Noble, Borders, Walden Books, Booksamillion, Joseph Beth, etc. and let’s concentrate on the little dudes. The independents. “The Shop Around The Corner.” Those struggling store owners that spend literally 60 to 80 hours a week … making their stores work … hoping to break even … wanting to succeed … all while competing with the big boys. Authors, take note. It’s the independents that hold your hand, and if they love your work, THEY know how to get behind an author and sell their books.

We all want to have our books showcased at the front door by the big boys, there’s no doubt about that. But the independents work just as hard, maybe harder. Little independent store owners work round the clock and they also deserThey ve to be noticed—maybe more so.

So support your local independent bookseller. They don’t run their stores on “New York City Corporate Policies” … they run their stores with their hearts.

More tomorrow on our “blitz across the South!”

Blessings to you and yours.

Fem Energy

Oooo-baby-baby ... did I just coin a phrase? All I know is that dinner tonight was high Fem Energy! Lisa Wynn ... co-owner of the Greensboro based, high energy, entrepreneural group Hell on Heelz--owns Artisans Tea Company, Artisans Press, and writes great non-fiction. Brenda Shropshire ... co-owner of Hell on Heelz, Trainer to the "stars," and ... Dena Harris - What? You read my blog and don't know who Dena Harrs is?

Shock.

Okay ... www.denaharris.com ... go there for writer extroidinare.

My point is this ... We four women ... 3o something, 40 something, and moi --50 something ... sat at a table and plotted a game plan for the success of a new book ... a book of the highest quality ... a kick-butt book for ladies who want to see their dreams fulfilled. Written by Lisa and Brenda, this book will knock the socks of the rest! ooo-wee baby! Fem engery at its highest level! Look out Today Show ... here they come ...

Today, we got a taste of the energy exuded from the all-male, testosterone-filled, board rooms across America. Only it was over coffee at Panera. No expensive briefcases, but our bags are great Prada knock-offs. No Piere Cardin three piece suits on our mature feminine physics, but you won't see any trashy polyester on us either. It was one for all and all for one! The ideas flew around the table!

Confidence abounds with women like this ... it's catching ... it's amazing ... it's magic.

So watch out Literary World ... there are some new girls on the block ... and they're not messin' around. And to prove it, here's a quote from the soon-to-famous (mark my words, world) Lisa M. Wynn ... “Follow the path of the unsafe, independent thinker. Expose your ideas to the danger of controversy. Speak your mind and fear less the label of ‘crackpot’ than the stigma of conformity.”

See what I mean? These women are forces to be reckoned with. Take my word for it.

I'm off to Memphis in the morning ... the book tour is in high gear ... I plan to blog on the road ... so stay tuned!

... as long as my fem engery doesn't give out.

Blessings to you and yours.

Breakfast With Friends

I love to eat out. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing better than a great home-cooked meal. But slaving away in the kitchen day after day wears on a body. So once or twice a week, Michael and I eat out. My favorite meal to dine away from home is breakfast. Whether it's a sausage biscuit from Bojangles or a lavish spread of french toast, bacon, and fresh fruit at the Village Tavern, it's a great way to start the day!

Saturday morning, however, the friends of Archdale Library gathered together and spread a table in the library fit for any hungry Southerner! I don't know who made the quiche, but it rocked, as far as I was concerned. After filling our tummies, a panel of five authors spoke to a nice-sized crowd. The interest in our books sparked great conversations and many in the audience were aspiring authors. Our little Archdale Library is a special place of retreat for many in my small community. The library sits amidst a rolling landscape of large trees and manicured lawns, but the support it gives to local authors is commendable.

Sunday ... Bob Evans was the meeting place ... our dear friends Blair and Dena met us for the pig-out breakfast feast. We plan and dream about the future with these precious ones. Dena Harris, writer extraordinaire, http://www.denaharris.com/, and I plot and plan our next move in the literary world. Together, we lend great support to one another. It's been that way now, for the past 2 and half years ... and I expect to be around when she wins the Pulitzer someday.

We're off to Memphis this week, and the Southern Festival of the Book. I'll keep you posted. Of course, when we're on the road ... I long to come home. Home is where I work best ... writing ... sleeping ... and of course run out for breakfast whenever I can manage it!

Blessings to you and yours.

A Memorable Evening

It's like the day after Christmas ... so much excitement, the build-up, the planning, preparation, practice, and then ... it's Showtime!

The night took my breath away. Is this any hint as to how one must feel on opening night on Broadway? Maybe just a little, I suppose ... but for me ... it might as well have been ...

The stage was a church altar, the music pit only one piano with a very accomplished composer. The audience ... friends--family. The crew--Michael, and Steve the light and soundman. The cast ... (sigh) just me. And, of course, Rose at the piano.

And yet ... the night was the most memorable evening of my life.

I felt swept away ... up and away into the stories, the music, and then I sang. Oh yes, you heard me right. I sang. A cappella, no less. But in order to do that, I had to go back in my mind ... into the dim mists of time to a place of tabernacle and tent revival days. And though Rose said I'm a Contralto, a voice range many singers would LOVE to have ... I just sang in the manner of my childhood. The days my sisters and I would play church on our back porch steps ... sing our hearts out. To the only songs we knew. Gospel.

And ... it worked. At least that's what my critics said. A few asked me afterward at the reception who my voice teacher was. I laughed good and hard.

Rose played like an angel. Her performance--flawless. She glided across the piano with the skill of those who play at Carnegie Hall. The result was a tearjerker.

"Not long enough!"
"Amazing!"
"A professional performance of the highest quality!"

.... some of the comments afterwards. Ah, shucks, folks. I'm speechless.

And then came the invitations ... to perform at Southern Pines, and other notable venues. It’s something to think about.

And then from an all-time high to arriving at the Jamestown Library this afternoon to an audience of 0. Zero. Zip. Nada. Nobody showed. So, Mike and I toured the historical library, bid farewell to the gracious and sweet librarian who booked us, offered to return on a better day, and headed home. To prepare to speak again tomorrow. To hopefully, a room full of beating hearts.

Oh, the highs and lows of a being an author who speaks. You just never know. One night the place is packed, jammed to the rafters, the crowd is amazing ... and then the next day ... you wonder if the world has come to an end.

Who knows ... memorable evenings carry you through good times and bad. Abundant fans and sparse crowds of two. It's always a risk ... every word you write, every time you step out the door. But it's worth every second of it.

I wouldn't trade this life, this series of memorable evenings for anything ...

Blessings to you and yours.

The Need of Rotary

Yesterday I spoke to a room full of Rotarians in High Point, this time a different group ... FurnitureLand Rotary. Appropriate, as High Point is the furniture capital of the WORLD. (Twice each year the world comes to High Point for the Spring and Fall Furniture Market.) Just a tid bit of information ...

But this group of business people welcomed me and listened intently to my speech. Afterward, the book sales were once again astonishing ... enough so, that I gave 20% of the proceeds back to the Rotary for their fund raising campaign. It's a great feeling to give back ... it's as satisfying as selling the book to me. (Oh yeah, right ... I hear your comment ...)

Believe it or not, it's true ... and if you ever get the chance to hear my speech, COMING OUT OF THE DARK AND INTO THE LIGHT OF A WRITER, you'll understand why. Why it is that giving back is important to me. If you have ever been in need, you know what I mean.

Consider yourself lucky if you've never gone without. Consider yourself blessed. It's great to have and not want for much. Most Americans fill that category. But the Rotary, I'm finding out, have many honorable causes and helping those who are down on their luck, in need of a helping hand, or searching for their next meal ... are usually among the list of causes the Rotary raise funds for.

Many of the characters in my stories have great needs. Out of that need a writer can create great conflict and resolution. To reach back into my past and remember those feelings, emotions, and moments of desperation ... I have a treasure chest to draw from.

I only wish I knew about Rotary back then.

Blessings to you and yours.

Regal and Raw

I spent yesterday afternoon practicing at the church where I'll be performing with Rose Lindsay Pfaff ... Southern Fried Women, the musical ... IF AT ALL POSSIBLE, YOU MUST COME HEAR THIS! An amazingly beautiful presentation, Rose brings absolute tears to my eyes each time her fingers float across the piano. My rough, raw, Southern stories mixed with the elegant and regal music of Rose Lindsay Pfaff is nothing short of ... magic.

I cannot describe to you the overwhelming gratitude I possess for people who have come together to make this coming Thursday night's performance a success! The list is endless. So many have donated, time, money, food, and endless hours of preparation.

I'm convinced it's not their love for the arts, but because so many of them know and love Rose Lindsay Pfaff. It seems, all Rose needs to do is ask and people respond! Therefore, my thanks to her for picking up the book and reading these stories ... I cannot thank her in a simple email, thank-you card, or blog. All I can do is my best work for her. She directed and choreographed this production. She, along with the Books and Arts committee of the Women's Professional Forum, produced it. And it's amazing.

I feel myself entering a new realm ... and I wonder if other authors ever feel that way. I don't always know where this life is taking me, this life of writer, speaker, author ... Most of the time it's grueling work, nose to the grindstone, days and nights alone at the computer ... for months at a time. But occasionally, the sun comes out and we see the fruits of our labor.

This Thursday evening, I am but a small part of a beautiful presentation that bears the title of my book. Of course, I read clips, bits, and pieces throughout, but it's the music ... the glorious music that's been lovingly placed around the words that has made me proud to be a part of such a production.

I'm realizing the vast congregation that love the Southern culture and it's unique speech, music, and the lives of their ancestors. I watch folks cling to it as I speak to them about the Southern woman and those she loves. I observe it in their eyes, and the more I speak it is the one thing that's confirmed to me over and over again. The South is not only a place to live; it's an art form, a culture unto itself, a way of life that will never die.

It will never die, because of the writers who write about it. And because of the musicians, like Rose, who keep the old songs of the South alive. A blend of regal and raw, like nothing you've ever seen.

October 5th, at 6:30 p.m. promises to be another page in my memory book. I hope you'll make it out to Holy Episcopal Church on Greene Street in Greensboro for this event ... but if not ... stay tuned ... because there will be a DVD in the future!

"Lord, Lord ... who'da ever thought, this ole' barefoot, poor, hillbilly gal would end up readin' her stories center stage? mmm-mmm."

Blessings to you and yours.

Sick Of It

I try very hard not to post any politically-minded blogs. I feel everyone has and is entitled to their own opinions ... most of the time. But this morning, I watched yet another news report of a local boy's funeral. My heart hurt watching the family mourn for their beloved son. Another fallen soldier.

And I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of men and women coming home dead from a war that makes no sense to me whatsoever. I'm a mother of a Marine. My son, thank you Jesus, came home safely from his time with Uncle Sam. But I remember what it felt like when he was away, not knowing how or where he was. And the war hadn't even started yet. I hated it then, I hate it now.

I remember vividly the Vietnam War. I also remember when my son was born; it was one of the first things I thought about. "Please God, don't let my baby son grow up to fight in a war that nobody wants." That was 1975. Vietnam was just ending.

I understand some wars have been necessary. Or at least WW I and II seemed to be. And I understand, there will always be wars and rumors of wars. But it doesn't make it any easier on families of sons and daughters who are carried home and laid to rest in the family cemetery.

This war ... in my opinion ... is the worst unecessary war. And when the faces of young men and women appear on the news, they haunt me. But, I'm the first to admit, it's a war so far removed from our daily lives, I don't even think about it. Be honest, how many times during the week do you contemplate this war? Unless you have a loved one in the service, I'll bet not much time is spent on it. I try hard not to think about it. I try real hard.

Until the news comes on and another beautiful, young face is flashed on the screen.

And I'm sick of it, once again.

Enough! Enough of Americans dying for people who don't give a damn about why we're there. Don't want us there. No more propaganda pictures, please, of Iranians holding welcome signs, hugging soldiers, and smiling soldier faces. NO MORE. Please, somebody give me a good reason why our sons are dying in a country where its citizens will always be killing themselves and hating Americans in the process. We're not going to change these people or their way of life. Not now. Not ever.

I was sent a another propaganda picture recently of a young boy in Iraq who was caught stealing. For his punishment, this seven-year old boy was held down and his arm was ran over PURPOSELY by a truck. To teach him a lesson. Is there any wonder why these people are taught to hate? These heinous crimes against humanity are unthinkable to us. Crimes against women and children in third-world countries need to be addressed, yes ... but we have to find a way to do it without killing our own. I know, easier said than done.

I don't have answers. I'm just a mom that can't stand to see any more funerals and 21-gun salutes on TV.

These people, these monsters, that would do harm to women and children, their mentality seeps through the very core of their society. It hasn't changed for thousands of years.

Why kill our sons and daughters in the process of them killing theirs?

Bring our soldiers home, protect our own borders, and find a better way (God help us) to help them.

Aren't you sick of it too?

Praying for protection to the families of children in harms way this day, and blessings to you all.

Head Colds and Public Speaking

I have a cold. But it doesn't matter, I have to show up. Last night I spoke to a great group at Shakespeare & Co., independent bookstore, in Kernersville, NC. I was a bit concerned as the sky opened up about the time we backed out of our garage. People in North Carolina typically don't like to get out in any kind of weather. If it rains even a little, it might as well be five feet of snow. Folks just stay indoors around here. Go figure. Growing up around lots of snow for six months of the year, that just doesn't compute with me.

Anyway ... I was surprised to see a nearly full house arrive to hear me speak. Many offered great comments about the the stories in Southern Fried Women and I could tell from the questions, this group not only read the book, the were interested in the history of the stories.

I've been fighting this bad head cold all week, so by the end of the evening my voice was about gone, but I loved every minute of it. My favorite thing in life, at the moment, is talking about my stories to those who want to know the details about them.

This morning I'm heading over to have coffee with my friend, Lisa ... I'm hoping a good dose of laughter and strong coffee will help me feel better ... this cold is dragging on too long. This afternoon I'm speaking to yet another group at a Senior Citizen establishment ... and I need to feel better. I just won't breathe in their direction.

Blessings to you and yours.

A Rose By Any Other Name ...

I've been practicing for my upcoming "musical" debut ... Southern Fried Women has been put to music and October 5th, the accomplished pianist/composer, Rose Lindsay Pfaff from Greensboro, will accompany me on the piano as I read from the book. Rose has composed a Prelude and a Postlude for Southern Fried Women, and will play renditions of gospel tunes throughout the readings.

Now if you've read the book, you know there are many tent revival and church songs mentioned throughout. Having literally cut my teeth on the back of a church pew, I grew up in revival tents, tabernacles, and grand cathedrals with TV cameras rolling. If you know me and my work, I explore the world of religion, spirituality, and the unexplained in nearly every story.

When Rose read the book something clicked inside her as she recalled the gospel songs she sang and played on the piano as a child. Rose relayed to me that her grandmother introduced her to gospel music.

Needless to say, Rose went to work. What transpired since has been nothing short of a miracle. Rose is a nationally renowned pianist and composer whose curriculum viate is five pages long. A recipient of numerous grants, fellowships, and awards, Rose creates sound sculpture, has taught music on the college level, and has been the Chair and Founder of countless music education programs. Rose holds a Masters in Fine Arts in Composition and a Master of Arts in Piano ... so I was nearly speechless when this gifted and exquisite woman asked to perform with me.

Humbled and honored ... I believe Rose's elegant style and nature has not only brought Southern Fried Women into a whole new dimension, but the contrast of her elegant style brings out the edge in my writing of the women in the rough, raw, and often tremultuous South. It enhances it in a way I’ve not seen done before.

Chairman of the Books and Arts Committee of the Women's Professional Forum, Rose was instrumental in this organization's sponsorship of the event. Complete with a wine and food reception afterward, these precious women support the arts in a major way. Their contribution to my work and that of Rose Lindsay Pfaff, is to be applauded. I am deeply appreciative of their support.

And Rose, well … this gracious woman is an inspiration. Tireless, she's also a workhorse. But above all else, I've never in my life been around a woman with so much class. It oozes from her pores.

By all means, please come to the performance at the Holy Episcopal Church in Greensboro, October 5th, at 6:30 p.m. This is one of the most beautiful sanctuarys I've ever been in.

And did I mention I’m singing?

Now hold on ... I'm no opera singer. I sing a little church chorus in the performance. (I’m a country girl, remember?) And I sing rather well, I might say. Well ... at least I can carry a tune ... and I've had years of practice singing old-timey gospel hymns in church, tapping my feet to the music, clapping, raising my hands, jumping up and down, watching grandma’s chin quiver, grandpa running around the sanctuary, and mama falling flat out under the power-glued to the floor. Even seen a few snakes in my day. Ministers and otherwise … but praise God, this is nothing like that.

A professional and elegant performance, Rose Lindsay Pfaff has made sure of that.

Blessings to you and yours.

Unforgettable

Speaking to book clubs at the library this week, I found myself falling in love with the writing process all over again ... anxious to get home to work. Not the work that involves marketing, emails, answering phone calls, and mailing out press kits ... just writing.

The creative process, as I explained to a group of senior women, is not a learned process necessarily. It's a talent. One that is cultivated over years of sowing the imagination onto paper and reaping an eventual harvest of story. Certainly much of the craft of writing is learned but stories in written form must hold the attention of the reader in such a way that a memory is created. The reader's brain senses, I must remember this book. All the great marketing strategy in the world cannot replace a great story. But then again ... you can write the next Pulitzer Prize, but if there's no one out there promoting it on a regular basis ... it's not going anywhere either.

The answer is balance. That plus raw talent, unique voice, commitment, passion and pure luck.

On another note ... I saw the Diary of Anne Frank this week with my writing buddy, Dena, at the Triad Stage. I was transported, at times, to the annex. The actor who played Anne Frank was incredible. She looked amazingly like her. Her skill at making us believe we were there ... haunted me for days. The ending you ask?

The ending blew me away. Bravo! I say to the cast and crew. Bravo!

A well written play ....

I suppose it's quite the same in writing an unforgettable play as writing an unforgettable novel ... you have to tell an unforgettable story.

Blessings to you and yours.

God Forbid

Okay ... so there's a church in my area that won't allow me to come give my inspirational speech. They don't want to hear it because I'm not part of organized religion anywhere and my book has a few "choice" words throughout for the sake of reality. (Refer to Monday, August 21st blog.)

But then I receive an email from this good friend of mine ... a friend I dearly love ... a friend who's funny, witty, and often has a great joke to tell. This friend is a born again Christian. The friend loves the church they attend. They sing in the choir and take the scriptures quite literally. But, as I said, the other day Michael and I received an email from this friend ... another joke. And though it was really funny, it had some explicit words in it. I don't remember exactly--something about a hillbilly and his testicles.

And then I noticed ... this friend had sent the same joke to many friends ... friends within the church -- I'm sure.

So ... I suppose it's okay to send off-color jokes through email as long as it's not in church. But God forbid I come into their church, deliver a moving and uplifting speech with a Christian message to their congregation, donate a percentage of my book sales to their outreach program, and sell my book.

God forbid.

Blessings to you and yours.

A Shining Example

I watched and listened to the former Prime Minister of Israel speak on TV late last evening. He observed that the world has been used to Israel being passive and the underdogs for the past 2,000 years and now that they are not and wish to conduct themselves as a democracy and protect themselves as a people, the world just doesn't understand it. But something he said struck a chord in me and rang like some liberty bell in the dark halls of a future looming in the dark distance. He said, "We are never going to the gas chambers again."

My friend Dena and I are going to the play, "The Diary of Anne Frank" this coming week. I am not a political person ... my opinions on the state of my city, county, country ... the world ... are not a focus of my life. I feel rather hopeless toward solutions. But when it comes to the matters of the human condition, the heart, and the children of any nation ... I tend to believe that mankind is continually evil and those who finally take a stand against evil should be applauded.

Looking forward to the play, Benjamin Netanyahu's comments made me realize that eventually, everyone get's fed up with being bullied. Even if it takes 2,000 years ... at some point in time you have to rise to the top and fight back.

A shining example to aspire to ... in my humble opinion.

Blessings to you and yours.

The Days Roll On

On the way back from Florida, I stopped in Savannah to have lunch at Lady & Sons. Owned by the ever popular, Paula Deen and her two sons, Southern chefs on the Food Channel. What an experience. I stood in line at 9:30 a.m. for an 11:00 lunch call. And "call" it was. They ring the dinner bell, then you wait across the street until your name is called. A hostess gives you a ticket and tells you what floor you need to proceed to in the restaurant.

I was on the third floor dining room ... the lunch was fantastic. Meatloaf on pumpernickel with wild mushroom mayonaise, jelly roll fries, corn fritters, cheese bisquits, and ice tea with mint. Yum. I was too full for dessert, but the tray of desserts looked wonderful.

I gave the sweet, young waitress a copy of my book to lay on Paula's desk. Hmmm --- do you think Paula Deen would like a book about Southern Fried Women?

The next morning at 7 a.m. I delivered yet another speech to the Kernersville Rotary, attended the Fall Luncheon for the High Point Literary League, (guest author was Gregory McGuire, author of Wicked, Son of a Witch, Lost, and Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister), and then by 7 p.m. that same evening I attended and spoke at the first Open Mic at the all girl's Writer's Night Out in Greensboro. Needless to say ... I was ready for sleep by the time my head hit the pillow.

But the days roll on ... so do the good times, and (sigh) so do the bad ... there's been a few punches lately, but we ... roll with them. I'm busy ... promoting. And in promoting my work, I want more than anything to be kind to everyone I meet, as well as thankful and grateful. I've seen my share of nasty people in this world ... agressive and beligerent people. Nasty.

It's a breath of fresh, clean air to go on the road and find kind folk and people who take an interest in my work. Even in famous restaurants in Savannah.

Blessings to you and yours.

The Best Way

The best way to relay my experience at the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance Conference and Trade Show in Orlando last weekend is with an e-mail I sent to all the authors who signed their books at the Sisters In Crime and Mystery Writers of America booth.

A warm hello to all my new friends from Florida and around the country!

I just arrived home Monday evening and since then, have been pouring through about 200 e-mails and washing a mountain of clothes. Is everyone as tired as me? The Gaylord Palms Hotel was beautiful and our booth simply ROCKED! No doubt, the BEST SINC and MWA booth ever!!!

I believe most everyone gave away most, if not all, of their books. Our booth was by far the busiest booth at the show. It looked great, and we placed information in every booksellers hands that walked by or stopped to chat.

Winners of the baskets - Saturday's basket winner was Genie Ford from Books & Crannies in Middlebury, Virginia. Sunday's basket winner was Kathy Acree from Ivy Books & Gifts in Glasgow, Kentucky. As soon as possible, I will be sending each of you who participated in the booth, a data base of every bookseller that submitted their business card or filled out a form to our raffle box. You can use these as labels for mailings or however you choose. It's great for your marketing purposes.

I will be sending a link for pictures to all of you in the next day or so. There are some great ones!

Many, many heartfelt thanks to Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America for their wonderful support throughout the years and in providing authors a venue to show their work to the industry.

Thank you, Beth Wasson, for your encouragement and support.

Thanks to the writing team of Charles Todd for stopping by on Saturday afternoon and giving their support and encouragement.

Thanks to Christine Kling for your help and for buying me one hell of a good margarita.

Thanks Bob Morris, you party animal you. You and your beautiful wife did an outstanding job in Satuday evening's dinner! The food, the atmosphere, the drinks and the packed house proved that we came to work and to have fun too! I'll never forget it. A perfect evening.

Thank you, Cathy and Bob Pickens, for the Moon Pies and making me laugh so hard at dinner. I want to party some more with you, chick.

Thank you, Dawn Kravagna, for helping me set up and being understanding when I called you Don instead of Dawn. (Geesh.)

Mary Clay, thanks again for the champagne and the books! What a great gift of love! What a smile you have.

Margaret Maron, I was honored to have signed with you. You are an inspiration to us all.

Nancy Cohen, Diane Vogt, Margee Bugbee, and Cathy Pickens ... you four got the day started off right! Whew! You set the bar for the rest of us! You ladies know how to work a crowd!

Mary Clay, Martha Powers, and Dawn Kravagna were up next! What a trio! Martha you rock!

McKenna Davis you're a "Joy" to be around. I hope you had as good a time as your husband seemed to be having!

Blaize Clement ... you, like Margaret Maron, are an inspiration. I felt a true energy just being near you. Christine Kling worked hard and got her books into the hands of a "right smart many" booksellers!

June Weltman, Alexandra Sokoloff, and Chris Kuzneski ... the picture I have of you three should be on the cover of some fashion magazine! What a handsome trio of mystery writers! Chris, I can't tell you how many booksellers came back to the booth on Sunday asking for your book! Made me wish I'd had asked you for a copy. Now I have to go buy it along with Alexandra's book! Best of luck to you, Alex, at Quail Ridge tonight! I expect to see you sometime on the Today Show. And June, my niece grabbed your book out of my hands today and has had her nose in it all evening.

Lynn Sholes, Joe Moore, and Jonathan King rounded out the day on Saturday. Lynn (you shameless hussey) you. She and Joe made sure their book got into as many booksellers hands as they could find! Great job, both of you! And Jonathan, I could see you were having a great time. Of course, I could see you anywhere in the room, you towered over the rest of us by a few feet!

Gammy Singer! Give my regards to Broadway! See you in New York City next year! Barbara Parker and her 10 or 11 published books wowed and amazed the booksellers. Saturday she took a zillion pictures, and Sunday her books flew off the table. Thanks for helping tear down, Barbara! Thanks so much. Terry Lewis, let's make YOU the next John Grisham! And last, but not least, Mary Anna Evans. A true "Relic." You remind me of a porcelain doll. Thanks for helping me tear down along with Barbara, Christine, and Terry.

A few very important people I almost forgot, but certainly not on purpose. Jan Fogt, Karen McCarthy, and Robert Woodring ... now there are some real troopers. They came to learn. They had no books to sign and give away. They were volunteers that wanted to network and help in any way they could.

And they did.

Thank you, so much, to these members who stood in the gap and made the work a little easier. We wish you all the best on your own books. I can't wait to read all of your books! Truly. I wish you all the best in life and I do hope to see you all again. If not at a SIBA conference, then on the BESTSELLER list!

God richly bless you all. This has been an experience I'll never forget. Thank you all again! It's one for the memory books.

And that's the way it was.

Blessings to you and yours.

The Wilds of Florida

Off to Florida ... a few days with my folks in Ocala, then Michael and I head to Orlando and to the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance (SIBA) trade show and conference. I'm looking forward to this massive show of booksellers, authors, editors, publishers and the thousands of books to be touted and shown off at this event. Including my book ... Southern Fried Women!

I won't be blogging for a week and neither will my writing buddy, Dena, who is off to the wilds of solitude in the mountains for a week in a cabin to write ... I envy her. But she left me with a great idea as I read her blog (www.denaharris.squarespace.com) this morning ... I leave you for the week with one of my favorite quotes!

"It is not enough merely to love literature, if one wishes to spend one's life as a writer. It is a dangerous undertaking on the most primitive level. For, it seeems to me, the act of writing with serious intent involves enormous personal risk. It entails the ongoing courage for self-discovery. It means one will walk forever on the tightrope, with each new step presenting the possiblility of learning a truth about oneself that is too terrible to bear."
-- Harlan Ellison

See you in a week!

Blessings to you and yours.

End of Summer

Labor Day weekend ... time doesn't fly anymore it travels at the speed of light. As you plan a book tour, the months roll by so quickly that life becomes a blur. Here it is the holiday that typically puts an end to most people's summer, and I've not spent any time in my garden or yard or hiked or swam or basked in the sun. None of the carefree summertime activities I used to fill my summer with.

I long for endless days of lounging on a front porch swing with a glass of raspberry ice tea and a good book. Often, I find myself daydreaming about retirement, of quiet nights with doors and windows wide open just to enjoy the fresh air and the concert of frogs and crickets. No TV in the background of my existence. Only candlelight, quiet music, maybe a cup of rich coffee would round out my day. That and a brilliant summer sunset across the tops of the mountains---we should all be so lucky.

The end of summer signals to me that I've turned another year older and yet ... have so much more to do. I worry that my children will wake up one day and find that time has flown by even faster for them and they've yet not experienced their potentials.

As I race off this week, to yet another booksellers trade show to sign my book, I'm happy with these middle years of my life - I've learned to be content in my circumstances. I've learned many things, like keeping my mouth shut and my ears open.

But as I reflect on my youth -- gone, stolen, obliterated by a situation within and beyond my control, I wonder if I'll ever find the quiet years I've yearned for, dreamed about, written about. Every once in a while, I get a day where it's just me and Michael and nobody else, suspended in time on a "day off." I live for those days.

The end of summer is also the beginning of my favorite season -- autumn. Maybe that's where I'm headed ... to the autumn of my life ... but in the meantime, I think I'll go outside and have a Popsicle on the back porch, enjoy this end of summer before the week gets crazy with too much to do.

Blessings to you and yours.

SIBA

Southern Booksellers Independent Alliance! It's on the horizon ... the past three days, I've been packing and repacking ... preparing for this mammoth trade show. An opportunity to network like never before with Southern booksellers.

As Chairman of the Sisters in Crime/Mystery Writers of America BOOTH in Orlando for the 2006 trade show, my job began in January this past year. The list was endless ... registering, contacts, signing schedules, booth decoration, simply endless attention to detail. And I've loved it. Although, I'm not sure I'd do it again, but it has been a unique experience. One for the memory books.

I've attended Book Expos and trade shows for some time, so I knew I had a good handle on what needed to be done ... (beside the fact that this is my background ... I've done stuff like this for hosptials for years.) Now, however, it's for ME and for the writers near and dear to my heart!

There's been a little politics involved, but nothing this old broad hasn't handled before. Besides, I love a challenge. The road to success for any other is not an easy one. Those who look for easy, won't find the blue ribbon they hope to achieve. Not really. Not for the long term.

Good writing, fabulous story, and all craft aside ... when you dive into the publicity world of books, there's nothing like a book trade show or festival to either get your feet wet, or make your mark on the memories of booksellers. Hooking up with Sisters in Crime, although I'm not a mystery writer, (but writing is writing) has offered me wonderful opportunities. I love the Sisters in Crime concept, the reason they were created. To offer writing, research, publishing, selling opportunities to women!

Spreading our little show all over Booth WL#57 will prove to booksellers we came to play ball! Over here! Look over here! Our booth screams with excitement and up to three authors will be signing their books at the booth round the clock. We come complete with graveyard, skeleton heads, crime scene tape, and spider webs. But besides the cool decor, we offer free books to booksellers. The best mystery writers together in one place!

It's been a busy couple weeks ... organizing and planning. But we're off next Tuesday ... gone for a week to the wilds of Florida and SIBA!

Right now I have to finish putting the bow on a raffle basket ... a super huge basket we award one lucky bookseller daily... hmmm, where'd I put my scissors?

It's a mystery.

Blessings to you and yours.

Rules? What Rules?

Throw all those rules out the back door and write whatever you feel like writing.

I think all rules ever made by writers, even the evil point-of-view rules, the backstory rule, or number of characters rule can be broken. My God, has anybody read Beach Music by Pat Conroy? Talk about a rule breaker! His books are a category far and above those who write the rules. Beach Music is a masterpiece. Of course ... that's Pat Conroy--I know, I know--he's pretty much able to do what he wants. After all, he's no longer considered a "first-time" author.

Still, I've got a shelf longer than my left leg, full of books on writing ... and I've yet to find anyone with all the answers.

However, the tension-on-every-page rule is a pretty damn good one to follow if you want to attract today's "weekend only" reader. Or, "I only read on vacation" reader. Better yet, "I can't find time to read my Bible, why would I want to read a book?" reader. Then there's the vegging couch-potato that reads nothing but the Sunday comics, the TV Guide, and the menu at Dennys. Not much you can do with that.

And yet, tension is what makes a mediocre book a great novel. It's the reason for telling the story--tension and the effects it has on the reader and on yourself as an author. If YOU don't feel tension as you write your story, you're not going to sell many copies of your hard work. Nobody's going to care about your story, your characters, the reason you wrote it.

Aside from the rule of tension, I say write how and what you want, as long as it's a damn good story.

I think a writer's got to enjoy writing whatever he or she writes--not an intellectual satisfaction in their research that turned their prose into something credible. But a writer must find a way to string together words that turn into amazing plots, sympathetic characters, exotic places, and interesting dialogue.

You've got to write what blows your skirt up--and find a way to blow up your reader's skirt.

That's all. Enjoy the process ... God knows the crap that's published. Every once in a while, a flower pokes through a cow patty and get's noticed. I hope it's your story.

Blessings to you and yours.

Energy

I was requested to "kick off" the series for the year! The Working Women's Wednesdays series in Alamance County, Burlington, NC. Thrilled when they invited me to speak at their monthly meeting, I also found myself eager to attend this event. Yesterday ... was once again, surreal.

Over 90 members of this group, also part of the Women's Resource Center, gathered for lunch in a sprawling country club for lunch and to listen to a speaker ... this time ... it was me. The topic - Reiventing your Life, from Office to Author.

I'm finding today's women like it given to them straight. They appreciate the fact that I shoot from the hip, and I don't color it up with fancy words or flowery ideas.

"This may not even be the Rah Rah speech you came thinking you were going to hear. The kind I’m sure one you’ve heard over and over from Corporate Women Cheerleaders the world over. They all tend to say the same things, don’t they?

But this is about REAL life. What I’m trying to tell you is that no matter how desperate your situation, no matter where you are in your job or career, when you’ve been told all hope is gone, when you’ve believe there’s nothing left to live for, when you think you’ve sunk as far as you can go and there’s no more light left in your tunnel, my message to you is … there is life … there is hope … even after hitting bottom. I want you to know … no matter your age or how fraught the circumstances, you can still inch your way up and come out of the dark and into the life that is calling your name."

The response was once again, tremendous. Heartfelt wishes and expressions of gratitude came pouring through the lips of these women ... all of course, in line to purchase a copy of SOUTHERN FRIED WOMEN. I was touched and moved at their emotion and response to me.

I found myself inspired ... when it was me who came to do the inspiring.

Again today, I met with three wonderful writing friends for an early lunch before one took off to fly to the Maui Writer's Conference. We huddled around a table at Panera for two hours and shared our writing lives. Dena, Lisa, Carol and I laughed and learned from each other ... all of us amazed at the energy we produced.

The energy I find so evident each day as I network among women could light a city for a week! The flow of nuturing women transcends time and space ... from that of mother, wife, sister, grandmother, aunt, cousin into that of friend, confidant, caregiver, ally, and colleague.

Women are continually pregnant with energy ... we are all things to all people.

Blessings to you and yours.

A Glimpse of Eudora

I spoke at a Senior Citizen retirement home yesterday... these folks were GREAT! I talked about Southern accents and Southern Literature. And what fun questions these folks of gray hair and soft eyes asked. Pointed questions about writing. Their interest in me and what made me tick as a writer moved me. I had a blast! Their hearing not quite acute, but their minds were sharp and their tongues like a razor.

I enjoyed every second as I related to these old souls in their love of family, home, and hearth.

One question was, "Who is your favorite Southern writer?" Of course, that answer is often varied ... but naming Eudora Welty sparked the interest of one woman in the corner.

Afterward, she came up to my signing table to buy a book and said, "My name is Margaret H. Williard Pipkin, and I used to live in Jackson, Mississippi and I used to go grocery shopping with Eudora."

Imagine my surprise. "You did?" Shocked, I wanted to touch the hands that may have touched Eudora.

"Why, yes," she said. "She lived in the strangest purple house."

And that's all she would say about her. But her smile was warm and I found her eyes smiled as big as her mouth. She was remembering. Going back in time to the days when she and Eudora Welty must have walked to the Piggly Wiggly or shared a car ride to the corner store. Maybe comparing their grocery list or coupons. Trying to remember the basic ingredients for corn bread casserole or sweet potato cakes. I watched her sip her ice tea while I signed a few more books hoping that I could ask her a few more questions about her old acquaintance.

But when I had finished ... Margaret H. Williard Pipkin was gone. All she left in her wake were a few words that stirred my creative juices and made me wish that I had but one moment with Eudora ...

As I rode home, I realized, I did have a moment with Eudora. Through her friend, Margaret, Eudora Welty reached out to touch me yesterday. It may be as close as I'll ever get ... but I will never forget that smile on Margaret's face. It was as if she were having a conversation with her in her head. Maybe she was.

And that's good enough for me.

Blessings to you and yours.

You Take The Good With The Bad

I have had the most overwhelming positive responses to my speaking appearances ... everything from standing ovations and long lines of people to buy books to an audience of two or three during an open mic in the coffee area of Barnes & Noble who really didn't come to hear me, but decided to stay, drink their coffee, and listen anyway.

Of course there was a red-neck heckler in the back while one of my colleagues read her piece of prose ... but 99% of the time - the response everywhere I have been has left me with feelings of gratefulness, inspiration, hope, and awe.

It's funny ... because the emotions I strive to instill into each audience whether they hear me speak or read my book are truly what I receive in return. Even during events where I sign books and nothing else, the response at my table is always ... "I love to read about the South," or "My mama would love this," or better yet ... "Just make it out to my wife." Those guys aren't kidding me ... they'll read it before their wives do!

And yet ... I received a sad response from a very dear friend recently (a friend I love and care about) who wrote that she couldn't ask me to speak at her church ... because "the women's ministry head thinks because you are not currently affiliated with a church body, she can't ask you to speak to our ladies. There is also the issue of some of the words in your book, which I understand you are using for reality's sake, but I myself don't feel comfortable selling the book in a church facility for that reason."

Hmmm ....

For clarity sake, please know that the few cuss or slang words used in my book are few and far between ... and certainly are nothing any good Christian man or woman hasn't heard before. It's amazing to me, that some of the best Christian people I know, are some of the most closed-minded. Not necessarily meaning to be, they discriminate when it doesn't fit into their beliefs. And really ... it's okay. I'm not into pushing my product where it's not wanted. But those kinds of responses are the exact reason why I'm not a part of any "body of believers." It's why I choose to worship at home.

But I find it amazing as I stand before a crowd who have come to hear me speak and I look out over a sea of faces and think how many denominations are truly represented here and how many will my message help. The "church" is listening (and buying my book) ... whether "they" want it to or not.

And what they fail to realize, is that my speech of inspiration to men and women of all walks of life ... is a also a speech of hope and light. A tesimony to God's love and mercy the likes of which many in the church have NEVER heard before. I can almost guarantee that. A speech that would uplift the destitute and downtrodden of their congregation. But ... of course, there's the issue of those few "bad words in my book." Words, I don't necessarily say ... but my characters certainly do.

And of course the speech I give at a church group is without any offensive words as opposed to one that may be given at a secular facility that may have a few choice words placed for the sake of meaning. Isn't it amazing how ALL of us act differently when in church than when we're not? Don't we all find ourselves being just a little hypocritical that way? Or is it a matter of respect and using good judgment? By nature, I'm not a conformist ... maybe that's why I don't belong to any church.

Yet, my friend went on to say, "... I know you are annointed by God in your storytelling, and in how you relate to women ... I truly love you, and I support you 100%, so please don't be offended, and understand that I am sincere in my relationship with you, and in my praise of your skills. I really love your book(s), can't wait for Televenge, and all the rest that God is going to give you to write ..."

It's a lesson in taking the good with bad.

I wanted to blog about this, not to embarass my friend nor to speak ill of her church ... she is a wonderful woman with a beautiful spirit ... it's just that I find the whole response an interesting insight into the human spirit. It reminds me of those groups who refuse to take medicine, yet fail to realize it was God who divinely inspired the production and use of medicine.

Ah well ... ONWARD! I still intend to speak to any church group that will have me. Quite possibly they will surprise me after all ... it may be the Catholics or the Presbyterians but who knows how the message will get out. Only God does.

I'll close today's blog with the following endorsement, a speaking testimonial if you will, from one pastor who heard my speech:

From the Reverend Frank D. Stewart Pastor of Bethany Presbyterian Church, Statesville, NC
“Pamela King Cable invites her listeners and readers to consider the incredible faith potential that awaits us outside our comfort zones. Pamela is a wonderful storyteller, and yet much more. In a “Southern Fried” woman’s style, she weaves a spiritual cloth that provides us an avenue for growth. After hearing her speak I realized this woman has the power to mend our spirits, strengthen our weaknesses, and restore our hope. Pamela has a special gift to place us in time machine and transport us back to our past so that we may discover our future. It is my delight and pleasure to recommend to everyone the remarkable talent of this fine speaker and storyteller, Pamela King Cable.”

Blessings to you and yours.

Love In Mass

I'm up very early this morning, and everyone knows ... I'm not a morning person. But I can't sleep. I'm overwhelmed at the response I've been receiving when I speak. This week I've delivered my soul with my words to two large groups, both men and women. Yesterday to at least 100 people (I'm guessing.) But that doesn't matter ... what matters is that this audience welcomed Michael and I with open arms, heard me speak, and then stood in line and bought my book, a show of support and of love. Their warm words and actions afterward will forever be stamped on my memory.

I've been walking around in a daze ever since yesterday. How can I write about this and sound grateful and humble (which I am.) How do you tell the world through this media of Internet that no matter the size of my audience and its response, that I will forever feel that way ... I will never forget where I've come from and the struggle and pain it took to get even this far.

How does one love in mass?

Mass quantities of love ... is it possible? Because that's what I felt yesterday. Amidst the sea of faces before me, I felt that light at the end of the tunnel that God showed me years ago. It opened up and I walked through it. It's been a very long time coming ... but I know this is only the beginning. Thing is, I know my heart and I can say I'm not looking for a pot of gold at the end of any rainbow, nor am I after what it can bring ... but I know my message and what it can do. The healing that it can deliver.

After all, isn't that why God allows us to travel to the bottom of our barrels ... so that when He leads us up and out of those dark, murky, waters ... we can "testify" as to where we've come from and how we got there? Isn't that the real purpose in any speech like mine?

To help others find love in mass.

Love that I never knew existed, until yesterday. It was an amazing sight to behold. I shall never, ever forget it. And I will always be grateful for it.

Blessings to you and yours.

Be Careful What You Wish For

When I started this Journey back a few years ago ... I wished for so many things I think all writers wish for. A certain amount of success, to be published, go on a book tour ... not realizing that what seemed so far away then, so dreamy in its infant wish-like state, would one day be reality. At least to a small degree.

In building my platform, the reality is ... there's much to consider when wishing for dreams like this. Juggling a schedule, finding time for everyone, trying to make everybody happy, and the cost involved in getting to where you're scheduled to be.

I chose, early on, to get out there and promote my work. To network and to believe in my message to my readers and to the many writers I come in contact with. I talk to many groups about publishing and networking ... but I think we need to come up with solutions of how to handle time factors. Or rather ... never enough time factors. The biggest being ... Where do I find time to write, edit, and publish my next book if I'm working my publicity machine?

But, alas ... I am a storyteller. And the true reality of it all is, if you want your stories to be heard, you have to "tell" them. Writing them down and then telling the world about them is all part of it.

Still ... it can be overwhelming at times. Balance ... I wish for balance!

Ah, well ... until I find that level of perfection that some circles of religious zealots claim to have achieved, I suppose I'll make a few mistakes, errors in judgment, bad choices, and be a big goof from time to time.

But in the meantime ... I will be thankful. Because everyday I wake up and I realize I'm NOT a perfect person, I wish for forgiveness, I wish for people to see my humility, and I wish for less struggle and always a full, receptive, and open audience like the ones I've had this week. That was one wish I'm so happy I wished for.

I wish you peace today. And love. Lots of love.

Blessings to you and yours.

It's My Birthday And I'll Laugh If I Want To

I'm selling BOOKS! Whoopee!

Friday, at Bliss Spa and Salon ... I sold 16 books! Saturday (today) I walked away with another 19 books sold! For a first-time author on a book tour ... that's pretty good. Include the 21 I sold on Wednesday at the Women's Professional Forum meeting ... that's 56 books in a week.

Not a bad birthday present. I'll be celebrating yet another year gone by in my life on Sunday ... proving to myself that life doesn't get shorter and I'm grabbing what I can on my way out.

The signings this week were wonderful ... meeting so many people ... mostly, women. But there were that handful of men that bought the book for their "wives or mothers." Once they realize, it's not chick-lit ... they may find they love the stories as much as their wife. I've had many men tell me just that. But the week was full of validation and satisfaction to the degree that I feel good about taking my birthday off and not thinking about writing or publishing or publicity for 24 hours.

Especially after the day I had today! I've said it over and over ... and sometimes I wonder if writers really hear me. Networking is the key to any writer's success. It has become my mantra.

Today, I signed a book to Jacquelyn Mooney, a book to Maya Angelou, and a book to Oprah. I met someone with a strong connections today who felt very sure she could get my book in to the hands of these women. You can only imagine my thrill and delima. How do you sign a book to artist Jacquelyn Mooney, author Maya Angelou ... let alone ... Oprah? After several drafts on scrap paper, I opted for something simple and sincere.

So who knows. Will they actually get the book? I feel pretty confident in my connection. Will they read it? Maybe. Possibly. Will I hear from any of them? ... Well, it's the dream of most writers, isn't it?

But you know what? Just to be able to say that I actually signed a book to these women ... is a great honor. Knowing that I signed it anticipating it would actually get into their hands ... I'm content. The rest ... is up to the good Lord above.

Later today ... another piece of GREAT news ... a five-star review from Midwest Book Reviews! And I quote "... Pamela King Cable is one of those infrequent writers who can bring reality to fictional characters so strong that you'd swear you had encountered them in your own life's history. Southern Fried Women will leave the reader looking forward to more from this accomplished, imaginative, skilled, and entertaining author!"

It's my birthday ... and I'll LAUGH if I want to!

Blessings to you and yours!

What's On YOUR Bookshelf?

I receive emails from “Emerging Writers” and I thought the answers to the following questions were interesting. So I’m following suit. Why not ask yourself the same questions … then go back in a few years and see if your answers have changed … Hmmm.

One book that changed your life.
To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

One book that you’ve read more than once.
Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell

One book you’d want on a desert island.
The Bible … (that’s if I’m shipwrecked.) Then again, if it’s a vacation on miles of white sand with tropical drinks and sun block … How Stella Got Her Groove Back … now that's a great beach read.

One book that made you laugh.
Lessons In Stalking … Life With Cats by Dena Harris – Super funny!

One book that made you cry.
It’s a tie - Ellen Foster by Kaye Gibbons --- Secret Life Of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

One book that you wish had been written.
Beach Music by Pat Conroy and Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier runs a close second ...

One book that you wish had never been written.
Godless – The Church of Liberalism by Ann Coulter, actually anything she writes … an amazingly outspoken conservative voice and I question her motives …

One book you’re currently reading.
The King Of Lies by John Hart … the “new and improved John Grisham!”

One book you’ve been meaning to read.
I’m wanting to lock myself away and finish Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series … a must read for any true lover of books!

Happy reading!

Blessings to you and yours.

Whirlwind Weekend

Michael and I are writing a column for a new, slick, local magazine called ... Piedmont. It covers a five county area bordering Virginia and North Carolina ... by and around the Blue Ridge ... the piedmont.

Saturday we toured Patrick County and you'll just have to get a copy of the magazine in October to read about it ... but let me tell you ... music and the mountains go hand in hand in this area of God's country. And food ... let's not forget food. Needless to say, the people, the scenery, and the antique shops are but a few of the highlights of that trip. You need to make it one of your destination goals ... to visit the Blue Ridge Parkway and many of the small towns around it at least once in your life. They're a country and a culture unto themselves ... no finer place in the world ... in my humble opinion.

Sunday ... Wine, Baseball and good friends. Dena, Blair, Michael and I spent a leisurely afternoon in the warm breezes of a somewhat cooler summer afternoon at Childress Winery. Go experience it for yourself, if you can. Lunch is excellent and the wine at Childress is the perfect compliment to the meal.

We laughed, ate, drank, enjoyed each other's company and then headed to Greensboro and a baseball game at the new stadium. The Greensboro Grasshoppers are on a winning streak and the place was fairly crowded, but comfortably so. It's a fabulous new stadium. Clean and the food is first-class junk food! After two hotdogs, a beer, a tub of popcorn, a smoothie, cracker jacks, a soft pretzel, and an ice cream cone later ... we were ready to pack it in. I can usually last until the 7th inning, and then it's time for me to go.

Baseball, for me, is a social game. A place to go talk, eat, and get an occasional thrill watching a home run or see some young kid catch a fly ball. Otherwise ... I don't see the excitement. Unless, of course, the team is on some great winning streak. But, I recognize it's an American passion ... and thus, at least once a year ... I support my local team.

Great food, tons of fun, the best of friends ... a winning combination for the memory book.

A whirlwind of a weekend? Yes, indeedy. 'Cept next weekend's my birthday ... I don't believe it's going to be any less of a tornado than this one was.

Blessings to you and yours.

" ... and they're off!"

I loved watching horse races as a kid. I still do. Last night, just before I stood up to speak to a group of Sisters In Crime members about publishing ... I thought of those Derby races ... how the horses are lead to the stalls ... the jockeys wait in heightened anticipation that flows through, I'm sure, to their horse ... the bell rings, the gates swing open, and the mad dash to the finish line begins. It's like a rocket going off.

I presented my journey to publication, or rather PUBLISHING FROM A WRITER'S POINT OF VIEW, last night to an eager group of listeners who were truly searching for answers about publishing and publicity. Michael and I presented "our story." And even though we're certainly not at the end of our own journey ... we've been down the road a far piece, researched, experienced, traveled all over the country finding our own answers ... and now it's time to share what we've learned.

The group was intense, took notes, asked tons of questions ... we loved it! It was, without a doubt, the threshold ... the launching pad ... the starting gates to our very long list of speaking engagements and it thrilled us. The response was tremendous and we felt very good being able to "give back." Especially to this group of writers. Michael and I know it will return to us many times over.

The meeting was open to the public, there were a few visitors, and I sold some books. We stood at the open door of something great last night; we could feel it as we walked through. I don't need to necessarily win the race, I just need to place well ... finish the race.

The past few weeks we've been laboring together, coordinating this long list of places for me to speak about my stories, my life, my work ... and last night it all came together. I laughed to myself as the meeting began. I imagined that horse race ... I could hear a voice in the distance....

".... and they're off!"

Blessings to you and yours.

The Heat Of The Oven ... It Comes To Us All

Oh the lessons in life we learn ... do they ever stop? As I grow older, I feel like a roast that's been in a slow oven ... over time the oven has broken down the meat, the seasoning has soaked in, and the tenderizer has done it's job.

I used to bristle when someone tried to rock my world with comments or rather criticism about my work, or about me in general, but these days ... I just simply smile, say thank you, and go on.

Not that unkind remarks and nasty comments still don't piss me off ... people can be so damn cruel. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm not talking about things said in anger.

I'm talking about people making "comments in love" "for your own good" "because we care" ... you know ... those kinds of comments.

There are people in our lives who think they know you but really ... don't. One day, someone says something to you about your work or your attitude or even the way you wear your hair and you realize ... hey, they don't know me at all. Hmmm. I thought they did, but I'll be dogged, they've not got a clue what I'm all about ... or what my message is.

And then you think ... Well, damn. I don't know them either.

Maybe my idea of who they are and what they stand for is all wrong too. Life is funny like that, isn't it? It's amazing to me ... I have learned over the years to open my heart to every type of person I've come in contact with. I refuse to have a closed mind or fist or heart for my fellow man. Now that doesn’t make me a saint. Lord, no. But in the process of living my life this way ... I've come in contact with people who were not raised like me ... new age people ... who I thought were open minded to begin with and didn't have to strive to open their hearts to the rest of the world.

Last night I realized, there are closed-minds in every walk of life. I am who I am. Your comments, though sweet and well intended, make no sense to me. It's very sad you think about me and my words the way that you do, but they are my words, my emotions. I cannot follow the pack. I never could.

I know my motives are good ... they're what makes me tick ... the part of me that pushes me along. It's part of the determination that saved my life a few times ... and it's a good thing. A very good thing that needs to be shared, not "toned down." But neither do I shout it from the rooftops in the fire and brimstone of a driven evangelist. Because, truth is, I've been quiet. A long, long time.

But I was not born to remain quiet. Not after one has been through the fire and flood. Eventually, it has to come out.

Though I'm not opposed to change ... God knows I've changed ... like the roast in the oven. It's just that now is the time in my life that hopefully ... I've been taken out of the oven and can share the tender, juicy, pieces of what I've learned with the world.

There are some who have remained in their ovens and become burnt, tough old birds. You can chew on their words a while, think about them for a moment, but in the end you just got to spit them out. No sense in swallowing something you know you can't digest.

Blessings to you and yours.