Not A Creature Was Stirring is Out

This has been a fun and hectic week for me. Not A Creature Was Stirring released on Tuesday and the second book in the series was due to the publisher that day as well. I spent a lot of time jumping between finishing up on the edits to the manuscript and peeking (checking rankings and reviews) at how Stirring was doing.

Having a book due the same day as a release (note: I had asked for a later date due to my traveling in December) made me feel like I was ignoring one child for another. Both needed attention and I split my time the best I could. Though I have to say, needing to focus on book 2 didn't allow the brain-space for me to angst over the release of Stirring. Not to say I didn't fret at all but not as much as I usually do. But, I also couldn't just focus on that wonderful feeling when a book is born and is getting much love. I wanted to just celebrate but had work to do.

In case anyone is wondering why I'm not referring to book 2 by a title is because I'm now thinking I don't have the right one. I'm a bit of a over thinker and second guess myself a lot. I have sent off an email to my editor about it and will await for their take on the matter.


Not a Creature Was Stirring is available in ebook, hardback and paperback.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2HsYB3W

Barnes and Noble: https://bit.ly/2Wdcp6f

Apple Books: https://apple.co/2sMPtgx

Kobo: https://bit.ly/2CSJ3Bh

Two Weeks to Launch

Technically, it's a little less than two weeks to launch date of Not a Creature Was Stirring (January 22), the first in my new series featuring Merry Winters, a crafter who specializes in all things Christmas and gift related. Merry came to me at a time where I was having trouble getting my other crafting heroine, Faith Hunter, to speak to me. Faith was at a stage in her life (engaged, planning a wedding, dreaming of children) while I was going through the beginning of the empty nest syndrome and having problems connecting with her. Instead of fighting with Faith on the page, I decided to start a new story with a new character just for fun...and Merry Winters came to life along with her side kick Ebenezer, featured on the cover.

I hope readers love Merry and Ebenezer as much as I do.

Not a Creature Was Stirring Excerpt: 

"Merry? Abraham? What's going on?" Grace, Abraham's mother, stood on the threshold of the RV. 

Relief flooded through me. I pulled her aside and whispered furiously what I discovered in the seat storage area as I kept an eye on Abraham. He was still standing in front of the dinette with his hands tucked into his back pockets. The tilt of his head suggested he was struggling with my "don't touch" order. 

"Abraham, where's Ebenezer?" I threw out the only idea that might get him away from the bench.

“He’s outside near the trees. You screamed. If someone screams that means they’re in trouble. I came to help.”

Grace took her son’s hand and pulled him away from the dinette area, avoiding looking at Samuel’s body. “I am so proud of you for protecting Merry. I thought something was wrong, so I called the police. Can you wait near our trailer and point out Merry’s to them?”

Abraham nodded. “I’ll bring Ebenezer with me, so he doesn’t have to stay out in the cold.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

“We should wait outside.” With a steadying grip on my elbow, Grace led me out.

I shivered. She unwrapped one end of her shawl from her shoulders and draped it over me, pulling me to her side. We stood there, side-by-side, staring at my dream that had now become my nightmare. The stars twinkled overhead. I gazed up, wishing with all my might this was a horrible dream. The cold penetrating through the shawl, and into my body, told me this was reality. A horrible reality I’d have to explain to the police. But how?

Why was Samuel—a dead Samuel—in my RV? The RV that his daughter had sold me. Was that why she was desperate to sell? My stomach clenched. I placed a hand on my stomach and drew in small puffs of air. 

“What happened?” Grace tightened the shawl around us. “The RV smelled horrendous. I was looking for what was rotting. I didn’t know it would be my ex-husband.” My body quaked. Bile rose in my throat. I sucked in breaths through my nose, hoping to settle the sick feeling.

This was supposed to be a fantastic weekend. The beginning of my dreams coming true. I could expand Merry and Bright Handcrafted Christmas and make it my only full-time job. No more seasonal jobs. Focus on Christmas crafting year-round. There was travel in my future. The RV allowed me to visit the places in the United States I had read and dreamt about.

Sirens filled the air. Red lights swirled near the entrance of the recreational vehicle parking. I shivered harder. Grace slipped out from the shawl and wrapped the other end around me.

“Do you want me to call Scot—”

“No!” I didn’t know much right now, but I knew I didn’t want my son here. Scotland hadn’t been on the police force long and I didn’t want him running down here to help me out of this legal kerfuffle. Being a police officer was his dream and I didn’t want this complicating his life. This was my problem. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” I moaned and planted my face into my hands. 

“It’ll be okay.” Grace squeezed my shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.”

My breath tightened in my lungs. Would the police think I did something wrong?

Weekly Craft Project: Round Up Part III (End of Year)

I almost completed my goal of crafting (and documenting projects) for each week in 2018. While there was only one week where I didn't craft (our Disney week), I wasn't as good as remembering to document with a picture on Facebook. Once again, I shall make crafting at least once a week a goal in 2019 and will add to that taking a photo. I realized today that I didn't take one photo of a completed crocheted Elsa hat and I made four of them.

Here are some highlights of my crafting from September to December of 2018.

Originally, I had decided not to decorate my table for a Bewitched/witch themed crop,
but once I arrived I decided to get into the spirit of things and made some
canvas signs for my table. I'm not a Halloween decorator, so my daughters claimed
the signs for their home/office. (One took the black cat and the other daughter
claimed the other three)

I love Hallmark Christmas movies and wanted to make myself
a few shirts to celebrate my love. I also made one as a gift and
as a drawing prize for a crop.

A sign I made at a Christmas themed crop. Because of some logistic issues, there ended up not
being a table in front of me, so I made this sign to "explain" the issue. My oldest loved
the sign and took it to use for the gift drawing at work. (Her co-workers love
my signs and had wanted her Halloween/witch ones.)

Crocheting an Elsa hat while on vacation in Florida. This is the only picture
I have of an Elsa hat.

Paint and Sip class husband and I took while on vacation.

Altered to Death

The sixth book in my scrapbooking mystery series was released on Tuesday. I'm amazed at times that I have written, and had published, the sixth book in this series. It seemed not too long ago I was worried about anyone else liking the first book I wrote.

In Altered to Death, instead of planning her wedding, Faith finds herself distracted by the town scrapbook she was commissioned to create. Eden’s oldest mystery, the founding family’s exodus nearly a hundred years ago, remains unsolved. A search through the family’s abandoned mansion leads to the uncovering of bones on that very property. And then ex-boyfriend Steve Davis announces a surprise heir has staked a claim. Now she’s determined to dig up the truth left behind.

Here's an excerpt from Altered to Death: 

“Sierra said Edward was working on a genealogy project, and there could be some items that might be good to include in the town’s scrapbook. I was hoping I could help you sort things out.”

Georgia wrung her hands. “Some of Edward’s items disappeared. They’ve been stolen.”

Or misplaced. I wasn’t surprised Georgia couldn’t find something in the house. I peeked in the hallway bath and it was just as cluttered as the living room, foyer, and hall. What Georgia needed was an organizer. Maybe I should mention Georgia’s situation to my grandmothers and see if one of them could help her.

“I bet they’re around here somewhere,” I said. “Would you like me to help you find them?”

She took hold of my hand, dragging me toward the back of the house. “Yes, I want you to find the murderer. I knew you’d take me seriously. I’ve been asking Edward what I should do.”

Asking Edward? Find a killer? I was out of my league in the type of help Georgia required. She was talking to her dead husband. Sierra really should be here. I started dragging my feet—literally— hoping to slow us down to wherever Georgia was taking me. Not that I thought she was going to attack me. Even if that was in her mind, I was a lot stronger than her.

“I meant the missing items. I’m sure they’re in the house. Somewhere,” I said.

“Come. Let me show you what I’ve found.”

“What am I going to look at? Maybe we should call someone else? Hank? Sierra?”

She huffed out a breath, it sounded like a snort from a small dog. The disgust was clear. “They won’t listen to me. All I am is a grieving old lady who is rambling away and losing her senses. They shut me down every time I try to tell them Edward’s death didn’t have to happen.”

“Didn’t have to happen?”

She nodded, her lips pressed in a thin, angry line. “He was killed.”

“He had a heart attack.”

“That’s what the murderer wants us all to think.”

Oh boy. What had Sierra gotten me into? The whole town, including me, knew Edward Brodart had died from a heart attack after having heart problems for the last decade. Over the last year, Edward had been looking sicker and sicker every day.

“I came over because I wanted to interview you for the town’s scrapbook,” I said. “I wanted to make sure Edward and you were included. Your family is as equally important as anyone else’s.”

She halted. I had been watching her carefully, so I stopped my forward movement without knocking into her. Taking tiny steps to the left, Georgia turned until she was staring at me. I fidgeted, unnerved by the intensity in her blue eyes.

“So you know?” She leaned back from me, searching my gaze for some clue or answer.

“Know what?”

“That Edward found Esther’s diary.”

Excitement pinged through me. “Esther Everton’s diary?”

“Yes. He found it in an old chest in our attic. A chest that belonged to my great-great-grandmother.” She had an expectant look on her face. “I forgot that I inherited it after my parents died. My boys were young, and I never gave it much thought.”

“How did your great-great-grandmother get a hold of Esther’s diary?”

“I always thought it was for safekeeping. They had been close friends.”

A secret. Esther wanted to keep a secret from her family. I knew all about that. Of course, I never told anyone or wrote it down. But if Esther liked to confide in her diary, she’d have hidden it with someone. “Did you read the diary? Did it say why the Evertons left Eden?”

“No, I think it proved Edward was right.”

“About what?”

“In his research, Edward saw hints that there was a living descendent of the Evertons.”

“A secret baby?” None of the daughters had been married. Being an unwed mother in that time would be a huge stigma to the family. Wait…Esther’s diary was hidden. Esther and her parents must have left to hide her pregnancy from the town. “What happened to the baby?”

Heroine on Vacation

I'm rushing a bit to get this blog post done because I've been working on a short story. Actually a new story as the first one wasn't going anywhere because my heroine Faith (from the Scrap This mystery series) just didn't want to participate. Originally, I wanted to title this when your heroine has you on ignore but that was a little depressing. And not quite accurate.

I had already decided she was the lead in the story. I outlined the main elements of the plot. I started writing and after two pages I was stuck. At first, I thought I started the story in the wrong place so I rewrote it. Still wasn't right. I wrote and rewrote the beginning of the story for weeks. I loved the plot but it wasn't coming together. It refused to move forward. All the characters seemed to hover around, doing something yet basically nothing. It was starting to stress me out. There was an approaching deadline. What was wrong?

I stepped away for a day and realized the issue was that Faith wasn't interested in being in the story. This mystery wasn't hers to tell. Once I released Faith from solving the crime, a character popped into my head. Her backstory. How she and the other characters fit and conflicted with each other. The story is flowing and I'm intrigued by this heroine. I don't know why Faith wasn't fitting in the story. All I could think is that maybe Faith needed a vacation.

Starting a Craft Project--Or Not

This year I decided to complete one craft a week, or at least a step of one if it was a large project. I love crafting and at the end of 2016 realized I hadn't spent much time doing what I enjoy. So, at the start of 2017, I told myself I'd make doing things I loved a priority rather than always making it last on the list. I've been doing on my 2017 craft mission, I did miss two weeks when we were on vacation but we were so busy sightseeing/vacationing that I didn't get any craft time in.

I injured my foot somehow and have been in an air cast/boot and can't walk around much right now so when I saw a Disney latch hook rug kit on sale for $5, I couldn't pass it up. It would be a great craft to sit and work on during the day. I also figured it would be easy. I did some latch hooks years ago and I remember them being a quick project to get done. Well...let's just say this wasn't quite what I remember.

For one, the design was not printed on the canvas. This kit is a little more advanced than the other ones I've done. This was not going to a quick, relaxing craft to get done in an afternoon. We're going to moving and part of my plan for the remainder of the year is to complete some of the projects. It'll be easier to move with the projects complete rather than as supplies, plus it would make it easier for me to know which items I can get rid of. We're downsizing so I can't take it all with me. I'm not sure I can get this completed in time. (Or at least not a week when I know I'll be babysitting.)

And to add to the time-consuming nature of this project, the yarn pieces aren't sorted. The first thing I need to do is sort out the colors. If the design was printed on the canvas, I could just pick out one pack of yarn and add the colors where they go, but that won't work out well having a blank canvas.

I might just package this up, add it in my take-with-us box, and work on it after we move.

The Siren Song

There I was zipping along in my car...I mean driving the speed limit...on my way to the craft store for Scrubby Yarn when a song playing on the radio caught my attention. I turned it up. Images popped into my head. A story began taking shape. The song ended and I knew I'd have to track it down. There was story being born from it. I didn't know if the idea would expand, but I had to find out.

Fortunately, I was able to find it on iTunes. I listened to it and images came into my mind. I replayed it, over and over. A more concrete plot took shape. The heroine introduced herself to me, along with the reluctant hero. He wasn't sure he was the right match for this story. But that was the basis of the story--the relationship between them--he thought he was too flawed, too imperfect for her while the heroine believed the hero's flaw was also his strength. The reason for his beliefs is what has really gripped my imagination.

I'm still editing Altered to Death so it'll be a month before I can start working on the book. And to think it was a song, and not my angsting and over thinking, that has determined my next story. I do believe it'll be a book length project but I'm going to see where the words take me.

What's Next?

It's been awhile since I've found myself pondering the writer dilemma of what book will I write next. Last few years, I knew exactly what book was on the horizon. This time the choices or seemingly endless. It's an exciting and scary time, especially when so many ideas battle for my attention. What direction do I go? Stick with mystery or go back for a moment to romantic suspense? Or something different? Should I start by outlining an idea or two and see which one springs to life? Or work on a project that I had set aside three years ago and revamp it? For that story, I know I want to switch it from an inspirational romantic suspense to a "regular" romantic suspense. I'm just not sure if that's the best project for me or one of my other ideas.

The more I think about it, more questions enter my mind. It's a confusing time for my muse. There's one project on the list that at one time had me so excited to write. I had dreams about it. Scribbled down scenes on any available piece of paper. Now that I'll have the time to work on it, my heart doesn't yearn to write it as it once did. I feel kind of blah about it. I still think it's a fabulous idea but I just have no desire to enter into that world.

Fortunately, Altered to Death will be back to me for editing so I'll have another month before I have to make a decision on the next book-length project. I do have 2 short stories I know I'll be working on so maybe once I'm done with them, I'll know for certain what's next.

National Scrapbooking Month: Cropped to Death Excerpt

“Since we're in the middle of National Scrapbook Month, I decided to share an excerpt from Cropped to Death, the first book in my Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Series. In this section, Faith is teaching homicide detective Ted Roget a few basics of scrapbooking.

“Are you asking what is your project or what is cardstock?”

“Both.”

I let out a huff of breath. “The project is up to you. The cardstock I can show you. It’s a type of paper we carry. It’s down this aisle.” I pointed.

“How would I know cardstock from wide ruled paper?” He asked, humor lacing his words.

“For one thing, we don’t sell wide-ruled paper. We’re not a stop for back to school shopping.”

“I’m a guy. Paper is paper.”

Gesturing toward the multitude of color paper, I stepped aside. “This, Detective Roget—”

“Can you call me Ted?” He gazed into my eyes, the green of his a vivid forest. “The detective title sounds out of place.”

Flustered by the intensity in his eyes, I looked away. “Sure. Why not, that’s your name isn’t it?” What is it about Roget—Ted—that caused words to start flowing before the mind engaged?

His lips twitched into a smile and then slipped back into a straight line.

“This is cardstock. It’s heavier. Paper. Acid-free…” I clamped my lips shut and stopped the stumbling speech. Hard to inspire confidence when a person sounded like they didn’t know what they were talking about.

“I’m supposed to choose one from all of those?” He looked terrified at the prospect.

“It’s just paper.” Why did men get so bent out of shape by hues? I stood in the middle of the aisle and pointed at the reds and then the blues. “What color is predominant in the photo you’re using for your layout?”

He grimaced. “This was a spur of the moment decision. I had nothing else to do tonight."

"I figured that.” I refrained from rubbing my hands in malicious glee. It was time to turn the tables. Let him feel uncomfortable and out of his league.

He reached forward and pulled out a burgundy sheet, the color closest to his reach. The best way to know a person was to see what their private life was like. And this was my opportunity, so I went through the wide open door. "If you’re not going to enter into the contest, I’m willing to waive the subject of the photograph for your layout. Do you have an idea of what kind of picture you’d like to put on the layout?"

"Not really.” He returned the burgundy and removed a sheet of Christmas red. 

"Please don’t tell me you’re not a picture-taking kind of guy." 

"Not too much in life to take photos of." 

I gaped at him. “Of course there is. Everyone’s life is worth documenting. What about holiday celebrations, mile-stones in your life, your work, or family?" 

Sadness appeared in his eyes. He pivoted and continued down the row of paper. “My little girl loves green. The brighter the better." 

Questions tumbled through my mind about his daughter, but it was none of my business. Besides finding out what shade of green his little girl preferred. A jade green color caught my eye and I pointed it out to Ted. 

With a blinding grin, he shook his head. Squatting down, he grabbed a handful of neon green cardstock from the bottom slot of the paper rack.  

"This is Claire.” He waved the stack at me. “Can I use this as the major color and then use tan as the mat? Or whatever is the technical term you used. I’ll make something for her to hang in her room.”

The love in his voice for his daughter touched me. I felt my attitude softening toward Ted. Maybe his ulterior motive for stopping by was a good one. Not that I had any clue what it would be.

Editing: From Suspect to Snitch

I'm still editing away and am able to breath a little easier now. Last week, I was in the middle of my developmental edit and was stuck in a particular place. I wrote words. Deleted words. Outline a change. Added it. Then took it out. Nothing was working but I knew this part of the story had to be changed. The problem was every choice either complicated the plot or gave away the ending. What was I to do? Nothing was working and I didn't want to edit myself into a place where I needed to rewrite the whole beginning. I was at a loss. I was frustrated. So, I made a decision that might not have been wise, due to deadline approaching, an event looming on the horizon, and the restarting of my part-time job at the golf course, but I took the morning off anyway. 

There were some items I wanted to get before my next crop event, and the nearest craft store was thirty-five minutes away so I knew it would be a huge time commitment. But as I was at the point of wanting to scream "I quit" or bang my head on the keyboard, a few hours away would be a good thing for me. So, I grabbed my Joann's coupons and keys and went on my trip.

As I drove away from my house, my computer, and the book, my mind started to clear and the task I left behind didn't seem so daunting. The farther away I got, the more my mind clearer and ideas started to come into my head, including two answers to my dilemma: change of ownership and make him a snitch. When I reached my destination, I sat in the car and emailed myself the hopefully brilliant solutions to the issues I was facing.

When I returned home, I went downstairs and took a look at my developmental report and the outline of changes I had intended to write. What do you know...the few issues I was still having would be solved or smoothed out with these two changes. One of the changes would mean reworking a few scenes and removing another but as it required a new one, no worries on the word count ending up too low. 

The biggest problem I was having was with one suspect. I had tried to find a way to make him more solid without giving away the ending or over complicated the plot with so many twists (or even worse coincidences) that it was not believable. I read back over his scene and discovered the idea I had on my drive was the right answer. The man wasn't a necessary suspect as I had others, stronger ones, and what was needed was a catalyst to narrow down the who could've done it--a snitch. He was no longer a character who didn't have a strong enough motive, and seemed like an add on. He was now necessary and helped move the plot forward rather than bog it down.

The Life of a Book, Stage Two: Developmental Editing

The second stage of the life of my book is the one I enjoy (and scares me) the most--developmental editing. It's the phase where I see the story through someone else's eyes and will know if what was in my head made it onto the page. Before I send off the book, the book has changed some for the original story as I pulled out parts and added in new ones. I do my best to smooth everything out but sometimes what I believe is on the page was still only in my head. It's one of the problems of living with and story so long, it becomes so familiar you can see the words and all the pieces in your head and it makes you certain it's in the book. Or at least for me. 

This is why I consider/label the book to be in draft (aka original story) until after the development edit. I know there will be changes, and sometimes scenes I love must go. One thing I discovered about writing self is that I'd mentally dig in my heels. It was a little heartbreaking to make changes, and I'd pout over all the darlings that must be "killed." It was easier for me to delve into the first stage of edits knowing that everything had the potential to stay or go. 

The first thing I do when I get the notes is let the comments, suggestions, and questions sit in my brain, then I start writing/arguing in a document to hash out what big and little changes need made (this is my favorite part). I love seeing the book grow more than what my brain had originally thought. At times, my muse needs a little nudge and encouragement, and my editor gets me and my muse and knows how to bring out the best in my writing.

Once I've worked at the changes, and email my editor for her opinion about any big changes I'm planning on making, I start incorporating them into the book. The first editing run I focus on any changes to the main and any of the subplots that branch off from the mystery. In Altered, one of those subplot will be taken from the story so in my second editing run, I'm going to give one of the personal/character subplots more screen time to add more depth.

For the third run, I print out the book and read it in one sitting. I usually do this in another location than my office. I find it's helpful to change my environment. In this reading, I'm trying to check the flow and pacing of the book, and ensure all the new scenes work seamlessly with those from the original story.

After that is done, and corrections are made, it's time for another read to catch any grammar mistakes or typos. I'll change the percentage of the view to have less words on the screen and read the book aloud. It helps me locate any typos that slipped by my eyes. Then the next step is sending it back to my editor (most times it's right on my deadline day).

The Life of a Book, Stage One: The Draft aka Original Story

The life of a book can seem easy and uncomplicated. You get this great idea in your head, sit in front of computer, type it all out, make a few changes here and there, catch some typos, catch some more, then send it off. The first draft is either the easiest part in the creation of a book or the hardest.

For me, there is usually a lot of fretting involved in the first draft. Does the main plot and subplot mesh well together, but aren't too matchy-matchy? Does the subplot complicate the main plot unnecessarily take over? Is one of the secondary characters getting too much screen time and taking over? Is my heroine actively protagging or being lead to all the answers?

This is my wrestling stage where I'm trying to be certain everything makes sense. There are times when I find myself arguing with my muse within the manuscript. I'll switch over to all caps when the plot is starting to twist and veer away from my plan for the book. I'll ask myself if the change makes sense, how will this twist fit into the plot, working it all out--and sometimes not. There are times where I'll write forward with the story when I run into a snag, and other times I have to go back and work out the problem before the story can progress.

I've included a picture of one of my comments in Altered to Death when I followed a trial I hadn't anticipated. I knew where it could lead and began to talk it out. And realized...well some great ideas are better off in another book. The muse rabbit trails can lead me to a stronger story, and other times I'll created a tangle of clues and connections, that bogs down the story with nothing substantial to move the plot forward.

Altered to Death is my 10th mystery, and once again who I designated as the murderer isn't the murderer. (I've also written 5 romantic stories but don't have this problem with them.) Sometimes when I discover the real culprit, it's not too big of a switch and I'll see that clues were there all along so it's just tightening up a few places, a tweak here and there, and it's all good. But other times, it changes the mood of the story and the heart of the story.

When that happens, it can create a huge shift and I have to "Humpty Dumpty" the story...break it part and put it back together. Usually, I can put it together with a few places needing clarifying or connecting more solidly to the story. Other times, it fits together I didn't notice some weak spots that even though they are patched, can still break the story apart.

The next phase of the life of a book is for "all the king's horses and men" aka my fabulous editor Erin, to help me "put it together again". And unlike poor Humpty Dumpty, my book does get put back together stronger, better, and no longer still on a wall where it might fall and break.

Stay tuned for the next part of the saga of the life of a book: Developmental Editing.