I'm Thankful For ...

How can you not be thankful when you have nephews this adorable? I mean seriously??? :)

This Thanksgiving brings a lot of smiles to my face. My "brood" of nieces and nephews has expanded from six to eight this year with number nine on the way next spring ... and I get to add my own little sassafrass to the mix in 7 weeks! (yikes ...)

I'm mostly thankful for family. I know we all say that, but in reality, they're what lasts for eternity. You know? People. Love. Family. They are what adds the warmth to the holidays - those warm fuzzies we all love to feel! :)

So this Thanksgiving, I'm going to squeeze these amazing little souls pictured to the left along with my nieces and be thankful that the Lord has seen fit to bless me with an amazing family! On BOTH sides! :)

Book Review: The Lightkeeper's Daughter, By Colleen Coble

You know a book is darn good when it makes you late for your own baby shower!

I know, I know ... right now you're thinking one of two things:

How could Jaime be late to her own shower?
Or ...
How did Jaime get her hands on The Lightkeeper's Daughter, by Colleen Coble?

May I address the latter question and ignore the former which is simply easy to answer if you know me. Baby shower ... good book ... baby shower ... good book ... hmmmmm.... (for the record, I was only 2 or 3 minutes late, my hair just suffered and wasn't "perfectly coiffed").

BLESSED! That's what I was when I received an ARC from Colleen to read this piece of work. And I mean that with all great due respect!! For those of you who aren't familiar with Colleen's writing - shame on you - but then, keep reading and get familiar :)  Colleen writes great romantic suspense. The kind that keeps you awake because you can't go to sleep until you find out why someone wants to kill the heroine! And her heroes? Don't get me started. Just think manly-man, and you've got the picture.

In The Lightkeeper's Daughter, Colleen takes her suspense and romance from contemporary settings to the days of the Gibson Girls. What's a Gibson Girl, you ask? Think Anne of Green Gables hairstyles and you're getting the picture. But, so there's no misunderstanding, I wouldn't say the Lightkeeper's Daughter in any way reflects Anne of Green Gables, aside from the dresses and the hair. Maybe if you included attempted murder on Anne and threw a Navy coat on Gilbert you might find a small resemblence.

Ok ... so my favorite things about this book? One, if you ARE an avid Colleen fan (like me - a shameless, disgusting fan that practically swoons in her presence) you won't be disappointed that she made the move to Historical Romantic Suspense. In NO WAY do you miss the familiar voice of Colleen Coble! The same mystery and intrigue is there, along with instatiable romance, now cleverly disguised in a setting that makes you want to step back in a time machine and take a walk beneath the California Redwoods, climbing the winding, shaky staircase of the old lighthouse, and smell the salty air off the Pacific.

The heroine, Addie, is an absolute sweetheart. (Think opposite of me, and you actually have a likeable character gifted with attributes of mercy and compassion - I think I could learn a thing or two from this character). She also has an unshakeable faith in the Lord and love the way Colleen contrasts Addie's faith to that of her newfound family.

The hero? Well, I don't know if Colleen "auditions" actors for the roles in her books (like I tend to do) but if I imagined an actor playing John, I would think Colin Firth in full Navy costume, with brooding dark eyes. Yes. That works for me.

Ok, so I've told you NOTHING about the plot of the book. But I've whet your appetite haven't I? :)
Here's the Amazon run down of the book, and then following that is a link. Click on the link. It will take you to Amazon pre-order page. Pre-order this book. It's a must-do ... and, I've heard through the grapevine it might be released SOONER than its January release date and be here in time before Christmas.

"At a lavish estate in Mercy Falls, California, Addie Sullivan finds danger-and quite possibly the love of her life.
Growing up as the lightkeeper's daughter on a remote island at the turn of the century, Addie Sullivan has lived a hardscrabble life. When a long-lost and wealthy relative finds her and enlists her to work as a governess at a lavish estate, she hopes to discover the truth of her heritage. But at Eaton Hall, nothing is as it seems. Not the idyllic family she hoped for, not the child she was hired to help, not even the aloof man she's immediately attracted to. Soon she must turn for help to Lieutenant John North, a man who views her with suspicion.
As Addie edges closer to the truth, danger threatens even as her romance with John blossoms and together they unravel a decades-old mystery. As Addie faces down her enemy, she discovers that faith in her one true Father is all she needs."

CLICK HERE! WHAT ARE WAITING FOR? CLICK HERE AND BUY THE BOOK! :)

Ghost Towns

I love ghost towns. They get my creative historical juices flowing. And my husband is a gem, because they bore him to tears, but he still takes me to various ghost towns when we're vacationing and lets me wander with my camera.

Each building, nick and cranny, yellowed newspaper glued to a kitchen wall, or blacksmith's brand in a wood floor tells me that someone lived there, breathed there, bled there, and died there. The old cliche, "if walls could talk" certainly becomes my wish as I meander through the remnants of someone's life.

The creepiest moment in a ghost town was when I was exploring an old schoolhouse that in the late 1800's had been converted into a place of quarantine when smallpox ran rampant through the small community. It attacked small children with a vengeance and a large amount of the young population succombed to its wrath. When I peeked in the window panes of the front window, I was taken aback when my eyes captured tiny, perfect handprints on the windows. Like ghostly marks left behind from feverish children (of course, it couldn't have been from another tourist *wink*).

I love old stairwells too... In this pic I think I was pretending to promenade down a distinguished staircase in the deserted town's old hotel (ca. 1870). I imagined myself wrapped in silk brocade, pulled into a reasonable bustle at the back of my waist, lace framing my hands, and a cameo brooch at my throat. Instead, Nate snapped this picture and capture me in my blue jeans and baggy sweater. Oh well... dreams happen ... sometime. He wasn't exactly prince charming at the bottom of the stairs, more the rugged, impatient cowboy who for some strange reason, stole my heart ... and me. Threw me on the back of his horse (er - into the car) and off we went!

Yes, ghost towns are my inspiration ... what's yours? What gets your creative mind spinning in a thousand directions?

Horror of Horrors

Not that Stephen King would be remotely interested in thinking of my story before me ...

But! Have you ever thought of this: in this virtual world of writers, we send our story ideas, synopsis', sample chapters, etc. to each other without ever meeting beyond blogs and emails. Does that not creep you out a little? Just a smidge? Be honest now. I've never had a bad situation, and you all are so lovely, I don't normally think suspiciously, but wouldn't it be nahasty if there was that one bad grape in the bunch that collects samples and uses your idea.

So am I just being wicked in thinking this way? or has anyone ever heard of this being addressed? I'm just curious, you know? Before I send off more of my work to a stranger I meet next week online who seems sooooo nice, should I get out my chisel and start carving its tombstone? OR!! Can we pretty much put faith in most writers we meet through reputable sources such as ACFW and the like? What's your take?

When to call it quits?

Hmmmm .... so when is enough enough? I had to ask myself after I edited my synopsis for the 854th time. I finally just hit "send" on my proposal to the editor and starting singing, "whatever will be, will be, the future's not mine to see" and then burst into a panic when I realized I attached the proposal as a file and didn't embed it in the body of the email. Of course, on retrospect and further research, the editor didn't request either or and the web site for the publishing house says they don't take unsolicited proposals, hence - no guidelines. ha ha. The Jaws theme song is playing rather loudly in the empty space between my ears.

Now I'm going to book at editing my book (ha! play on words) ... because I just KNOW this editor is going to respond in a few days (because it'd be just my luck) and want the complete manuscript. Which IS completed, but now after days of rethinking, I realize I missed a few key links in the plotline that might raise an eyebrow. And, if I could use the word "quell" one more time I might set a record for the most overused odd word ever.
"He quelled beneath her firey gaze"
"She knew her golden-eyed stare resembled a cougar's that made its prey quell in fear"
"If he would only quell beneath her beauty, they might actually get somewhere"
and so on ... "quell" ... does anyone even USE that word besides me?

So, edit, edit, edit ... where's the line between overworked or under-edited?

The Power of Words - Hazing vs. Hoping

I've been hazed. The power of words extends beyond our writing, beyond our conversation, and into the mental psyche of a generally easy-going female (me) and hasn't had the results perhaps intended by this strange form of hazing ... that strangely enough, comes primarily from Christian women. (disclaimer: this does not include any faithful readers of my blog LOL).

Take for example, an innocent comment made by me that had nothing to do with being pregnant:
Me: Wow. 11 hours of sleep last night rocked. I love sleep on a cold Autumn night.
Other Person: Enjoy it while it lasts. You'll never sleep again once the baby is born.
Or ....
Me: I can't wait to see my little girl smile when daddy walks in the room.
Other Person: Ha! Then burst in colicky fits of screams that you can't solve and break your ear drums after 4 hours of non-stop sobbing.
Or - is this one better ...
Me: I love 24. It's my favorite TV show ... Jack Bauer ... yeah! I can't wait for January.
Other Person: January? JANUARY!! You'll never watch anything but Dora the Explorer again. Maybe you can catch the seasons of 24 that you missed when you enter retirement in 2040.


WHAT THE "OTHER PERSON" is REALLY trying to say in all these scenarios is: The demon child will soon come with pitchfork in hand and skewer any sense of earthly paradise you may have left in your soul. Beware. Your personal hell is about to begin.

I'm overjoyed to experience motherhood after that message. Really. Though I may quickly look for a return slip when she's born if I take it too much to heart.  Ok, I get it. Motherhood isn't simple. I never said it was. Motherhood demands sacrifice. I never said it didnt. But where are the stories to bless the heart of a person entering parenthood... like:
"Baby's first smile when they see you and recognize you as their momma grabs you right here and just steals your breath becuase it's so precious"
"You've been part of creating a soul for eternity and now the Lord will use you to help raise a man/woman after His heart"
"Baby giggles will always make you giggle too - no matter how cynical you are."

Interestingly enough ... you dont' hear these stories very often as a woman coming into motherhood for the first time. I can understand frazzled mothers venting ... totally. I'm sure I'll have my day. But please, enough with hazing the new mother. Aren't children a gift from God? When did they grow horns? I'm not sure. And, if I'm one of those annoying new mothers who just rolls with it even when my baby keeps me up for all hours and I still have a smile on my face and my hair looks good ... don't throw darts at me. Maybe ... I just saw a few more blessings. Or maybe I'm dilusional. Sometimes dillusion is a beautiful thing.

The written and spoken word is a POWERFUL thing - it can be hazing or instill hoping. As a writer, I pray that my words either written or spoken, bring with it the hope of the Lord's beautiful creation, amazing grace, and supernatural sense of peace (laced with my sinful sense of sarcasm, I suppose). lol

Have you experienced your own hazing of sorts spurred by words? I'd love to know. Because I really hope that in the midst of my own personal hazing, I haven't been hazing someone else in another way ... my apologies if I have.

A Day for Heroes

This is how I remember him ... laughter in his eyes and hands that were disabled by MS but always ready to hold out shakily toward me and welcome me on his lap. An affectionate pat on the side of my knee and books. We read a lot of books. He could walk with a cane. It was wooden and curved and shiny, and it had a rubber stopper on the bottom so it wouldn't "clank" on the floor as he walked. He loved to rock in a rocking chair, and he would lick his fingers everytime he turned a thin, worn page in his Bible.

This man introduced me to coffee ... and perhaps started the reign of terror in my household when at three years old I was stoked on caffiene. But he was the Patriarch. My mother could not tell him "no". So we would sit and dunk cinnamon-sugar doughnuts in coffee, and then, once full, would drink our well-sugared black nectar. He would sip his, drawing the coffee in between his lips so it bubbled a little, made a slurpy sound, and cooled off just before it hit his tongue. I tried, but it went up my nose, so I just gulped. I still gulp. Maybe I should learn to be like Grampa and take more time ...

This man saved the world ... though he certainly would say that. In fact, he'd redirect me Spiritually to Scripture right now if he could - and he would be right. But in his own way, his own uncelebrated way, he did. In January of 1941 he entered the ARMY and had 1 month left before he was discharged when a Japanese plane dropped the first bomb on Pearl Harbor and Grampa was permanently enlisted until September of 1945. He trained hard for African desert warfare and found himself in the frozen war fields of Attu, the tropics of the Marshall Islands, and the horrors of the Philippines. He never did see the desert. I wonder if he minded? He fought in all five major Asiatic battles, earning medals he never received until after his death in 1986. The Bronze Star, the Purple Heart, Asiatic Battle Award, and numerous other smaller medals.

He wrote like a dreamer ... I have four years of letters he wrote faithfully to Gramma. Some of them are chopped into pieces by the censors to make sure he wasn't sending something to her that would be intercepted and reveal locations. Interestingly enough, his letters sound like a man stationed overseas for work. He doesn't belabor the terror he's witnessing, but instead he professes his love over and over, inquires about the family farm, has Ruthie grown taller? and sure miss your pies!

What we didn't know ... was how his buddy was shot in front of him by a Japanese cave fighter and Grampa, who would normally not hurt a mouse, opened his flame thrower full-on and left the cave and all that was in it in ashes. What we didn't know, was that one night he was out laying barbed wire under cover of darkness when his comrades opened fire on the enemy and he had to finish his covert op with the sky lit up like the fourth of July.  What we didn't know, was how he came into the posession of a bloodied Japanese flag that he brought home with him and never talked about. What we don't know, are all the stories he took to his grave as sacred, haunting memories that he felt deserved to be buried rather than retold.

Did my Grampa save the world? does it matter? In the eyes of a 3 yr. old he brought me coffee, can there be anything more heroic than that?

Today is a day for heroes ... don't forget them.