Before, After and Everything In Between

I had the opportunity to do a little traveling this past weekend thanks to some book events I’d committed to back when I thought DEATH THREADS was launching this month. Since the release was pushed to May to accomodate a few changes to the cover (see below), the trip had some nice spots open for socializing. The fact that this particular trip had me visiting the St. Louis area (a.k.a. “home”), only meant that extra time was all the more fun.

The first full night I was there had me meeting up with two of my dearest friends over dinner (the first half) and hot cocoa (the second half). We talked. We laughed. We plotted (we’re all writers). And we just enjoyed being together for the first time in entirely too long. It was, essentially, a wonderful (albeit bittersweet) recharging for the old internal battery. And boy did I need a recharging as well as time with my friends…

Now, that the trip is over, I’m in complete work mode as I write my way toward deadline day for # 4 in the Sewing Circle Mystery Series. This book is tentatively titled, DEADLY NOTIONS, and is proving to be a lot of fun to write!

But writing is not all I’m up to at the moment. I’m also getting busy making plans for the May 4th launch of DEATH THREADS…and looking ahead to the Oct. 5th launch of PINNED FOR MURDER. If you have connections with a library or bookstore and would like to see me come to your area, let me know!!

If you follow my series (as I hope you do), I thought you might like to see how the cover for DEATH THREADS has  evolved…

This is version # 1. It’s cut off a little on the top and bottom simply because I’m an idiot and can’t figure out why it’s not loading the complete image. But it’s enough to give you the effect. However, if you click on it, you’ll see the whole thing!

And here is version # 2 (and, once again, it’s chopping off the top and bottom–I’m nothing if not consistent). As you can see, the changes from version # 1 to version # 2 are subtle, yet they sure make things POP, don’t they?? Huge kudos to the folks at Berkley for creating a great cover and then finding ways to make it even better!

Oh…and both versions really DO have my name on the cover…that’s just part of what got cut off on my uploading attempts.  If you click on each one, you’ll see the changes there, too. In version # 1, my  name was in red and it was split over the black and white tiles (making it harder to read). In this new version they’ve designed the tiles so the name fits on black and it’s the same color as the title. It’s very nicely done!

What do you think?

~Elizabeth

Something To Look Back On?

I was talking with my kids the other day about what I used to do for fun when I was their age. I’m not really sure how the conversation came up, but it did and I went with it.

You see, when I was a kid, we played outside all the time. We played kickball in the cul-de-sac, we played back-up dancers (don’t ask), we played “ship” (think Lost in Space but on top of a huge rock in the side yard), we rode bikes, we went exploring.

Today…I don’t see that so much. I see kids watching TV, I see them playing video games, I see them texting (sometimes when they’re sitting next to each other).

And it kind of makes me sad. I think back on my childhood and I smile thinking about the crazy adventures I got into with my friends. I remember staying outside for hours on end (until I literally got frostbite on my toes) after a snowstorm, only to go in for a change of mittens before heading out again. I remember snow angels and snow forts and covering the front yard with footprints.

Heck, my dream of being a writer was born on an afternoon playdate at a friend’s house. And we weren’t watching TV. 

Contrast that against today and I can’t imagine there will be much to look back on… I mean, really, what’s to remember about sitting in a corner, staring at a screen, and pressing buttons?

What’s your take? Am I missing something?  

~Elizabeth

Juggling Skills A Must

There are times, at least for me, when I wonder if I should have taken a course in juggling. Not because I have aspirations to join a circus or to stick a jar at my feet and entertain the masses in Central Park. Because I don’t. Not when I’m awake, anyway.

But some experience in the fine art of keeping several balls in the air at one time might make life easier.

I thought this when my girls were little and they came down with a stomach bug at the same time. I thought this when I would spend my days playing with them while knowing laundry needed to be done and dinner needed to be made. I thought this when I homeschooled them a few years back and all of the stated tasks still needed to happen in addition to teaching them the things they  needed to learn.

And I still think that now. Only now, in addition to the kids’ various schedules and regular life tasks, I’m trying to get (and keep) my writing career off the ground. If that entailed just the “writing” part, it would be tough enough. Toss in the promotional stuff, the edits, the need to constantly be proposing new things, and…well…you see my interest in juggling, no?

This week alone, I’m finishing up a book that’s due on Monday, doing final pass edits on a book that’s coming out in July, starting on another book that’s due entirely too soon, and trying to get myself out there even more (Facebook fan page, booking signings and events, writing daily blogs, etc).

Fortunately, I love it. Even when I’m running the side of my finger up and down over pursed lips like a maniac. :) 

But, seriously, learning a few juggling skills might have been a smart idea…

So how about you? What’s a skill you wish you would have learned and why?

~Elizabeth

Your Library: A Tale Not Told in Books

Looking back, I suppose it was the shelves and spines and bindings that did it. It’s clear to me now, but as a child, I harbored the world’s  most wrongheaded notion about libraries.

I thought they were built for books. 

It took a librarian to teach me otherwise.

The autumn of my eighth grade year, my  mom offered a deal: I could exchange my hour-plus bus ride home for a two-hour layover at Greenville Public Library, and a lift, when she left work.

I took the deal.

I was no stranger to the library. My parents dropped me there from time to time, I’d searched the shelves, and I knew the building well enough.

The head librarian was another matter.

I’d seen Mrs. Huffman in passing. In my junior high mind, she was the schoolmarm of old–stern, implacable, unyielding. Winifred Huffman: Warden of Books.

During my second week of library layovers, Mrs. Huffman stopped by my table. In a span of minutes, she’d figured out who I was, where I was from, why I’d landed at her library. In equal time, she’d shown herself to be observant, quick-witted, and radiant in the way that only someone of age can be.

Each day thereafter, she’d stop to drop a bit of gossip, ask a question, share a story.

I spoke in whispers. Mrs. Huffman’s voice carried to the edges of the building. She was in charge, after all. She could speak in any voice she chose.

She chose to speak loudly, and more important, she chose to speak to me.

Over the course of the school year, between the hours of three and five, I watched and listened, and sometimes–not in a whisper–I spoke. I completed very little homework. And I learned volumes.

Mrs. Huffman taught me that libraries weren’t built for books. They were built for people.

They weren’t storage bins for pages. They were focal points for thought.

She taught me that some of the very best stories don’t come from books. They come from the people who watch over them.

She demonstrated that a library isn’t just for solitude. It can be a place for community, for sharing passions and interests and ideas with people you would otherwise never meet.

If you haven’t been to your library lately, go. Sit. Wander the stacks. Notice the doors and columns, the windows, the nooks and breaks and seams, the engraving and the artifacts. There are stories here, too, for those who care to see them.

Touch the walls. Soak in the sounds.

Drink the atmosphere.

Notice people.

Read.

While you’re there, you may meet someone who steps into your study time with questions and stories and kindness.

You may meet a librarian who knows that libraries aren’t about books.

You  may meet someone like Winifred.

Joe Richardson has written for newspapers, magazines, trade journals and broadcast media. When not at his desk, he can be found photographing his family and other forms of wildlife. He lives in rural Illinois.

Getting Back Up

If you read yesterday’s post about Sandra Kring’s The Book of Bright Ideas, you know I’m a fan. It’s a book that simply spoke to me. On many levels.

One of the character’s in this book (Jewel) simply didn’t believe in herself. When she looked in the mirror, she saw someone ugly. She didn’t know how to show love. Didn’t know how to find her self-worth.

Then along comes another character (Freeda). Someone who had problems, too, but didn’t let them manifest in quite the same way as the first character. And so she took Jewel under her wing.  Here’s a quick look at one of the conversations between them…

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it, Jewel? Ya took a lot of shit growing up about how you weren’t good enough. Well, honey, I got dished up a whole shitload of crap as a kid, too, but I’ll tell you this. It wasn’t your fault you got knocked down as a kid, but it’s your responsibility to get yourself back up  now. you gotta reach inside and find what you’re made of, and you gotta prove them wrong. You don’t, and you’re  not only gonna grow more bitter and ugly, but you’re gonna grow a daughter just like you.”

“I never say mean things to Evelyn!”     

“You don’t have to say them. That kid looks just like you, Jewel. And if your looks aren’t good enough for you, how in the hell is Button gonna think they’re good enough for her?”

I think, in life, we give other people the power to affect how we see ourselves. Sometimes that’s okay, because the people looking are full of love. But, sometimes, the ones looking aren’t full of love and that’s when wounds begin to grow. Deep ones.

If you’ve ever seen the movie, Pretty Woman, you may remember the moment when Julia Roberts’ character is in bed with Richard Gere’s character. And she says, “the bad stuff is easier to believe.”

And I think that’s true…if you don’t have those full-of-love eyes in your life.

So here’s what I want to do today. Tell me something special about you. A gift you think you bring to the world. And…while you’re at it…tell us something you think is pretty about you on the outside, too.

~Elizabeth

If I Can Make It There, I Can Make It Anywhere…

If you’ll remember from last week, I was asked to give a talk during a President’s Circle event for the Multiple Sclerosis Assocation in New York City this past weekend.

Well, I did it. And can I just say–oh. my. gosh?!?!?!?!?

The event was held at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum on 42nd Street. The room it was held in was essentially a wall of glass overlooking Times Square (the New Years Even ball, the lights, the billboards, you name it). And then there was me, standing at a podium with this stuff behind me.

Talk about surreal.

I only spoke for about seven minutes, but I felt good about it–the telltale I’m-giving-a-speech-in-front-of-a-roomful-of-strangers dry mouth thing not too noticeable.

I shared with them a small handful of moments that stand out in my life. I talked about a moment of awe as a child, the moment my dream to be a writer was born, the day I saw my very first book cover, the day I got my Agatha nomination call, and, finally, the day the doc broke the news.

I shared with them the good that’s come from that not-so-great moment and I got to say “thanks” for this organization’s help at a time I needed it.

It was exciting. And memorable. And the backdrop???? That was a moment in and of itself.

So how about you? What’s a moment that stands out in your life as being tough-to-top?

~Elizabeth

Peas and Carrots…But Hold the Peas, Please

Before I go on, I feel I must clarify the title of today’s post in the event you think we’re about to talk veggies. Because we’re not.  

Not today. Not ever.

In fact, the only way I eat a veggie is if it’s spinach (mixed with potatoes) or corn (which, I’m told doesn’t count anyway). Beyond that, fuggedaboutit.

No, the carrots I’m talking about are the kind you dangle in front of a person to motivate them. And, more specifically, the carrots you dangle in front of your own face.

I’ve always been a fairly motivated person. Making a to-do list excites me almost as much as putting the little check next to each item as I accomplish it. And, if left to a whole day of nothing, I tend to do something. It’s just the way I am.

However, lately I’m feeling as if said motivation has cheated me out of the finer points of self bribery. So, I’ve decided to change that.

Just a little. 

Yep, I’m officially giving myself a few carrots over the next few months.

First, an immediate one. I have two manuscripts due over the next two-and-a-half months (one romance, one mystery). Which means I’m typing like a nut right now and really can’t afford any time off at all.

*insert carrot*…

I’ve decided to treat myself to a day in the city (lunch & wandering around) when the romance is done. Sounds good, huh? 

Second, there’s the mystery. Which will get turned in about the time spring break starts.

*insert second carrot*…

While there are no plans to go anywhere for spring break, I think this time a day in the city might entail a show (any suggestions, anyone?).

So what do you say? Care to pick something you’d like/need to accomplish in the next few months and choose/share your carrot with us?

~Elizabeth

Good in the Strangest of Places

Next week, I have the honor of addressing a group of people at an M.S. event in New York City. As a speaker.

*gulp*

Why the gulp, you ask? Well, without realizing it, I suspect I went towards the field of writing because I’m rather shy by nature. I love learning about other people, but don’t like talking about myself unless I know someone really, really, really well. Yet, next week, I need to shed that instinct…or characteristic…or whatever you want to call it in favor of, well, talking about me.

And if I do it well enough, perhaps some of those fifty to sixty people will opt to donate even more to an organization that has helped me, as well as countless other individuals who have this disease.

Daunting prospect? Without a doubt.

A little exciting? Surprisingly, yeah. Because this is my chance to do something–to maybe make a difference. A real difference.

 Which is why, over the past few days, I’ve been thinking of what I can say to impact the people in that room… To educate them. To foster understanding in their minds and hearts. To reach them in some lasting way.

Being diagnosed with something like multiple sclerosis is scary. There’s no two ways about that fact. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say some positive has come with the negative…

*I’ve learned who my friends are.

*I’ve learned just how strong my spirit is.

*I’ve been given a sort of platform (thanks to my writing) to possibly make a difference in the future.

*And I’ve met some amazing people I would never have met if it weren’t for this disease–people I’d have been cheated out of knowing otherwise.

Realizing these things has impacted the direction my talk will take, guiding me to focus on those moments in a person’s life that stand out. You know, the moments that change you as a person…

Because change isn’t always bad.

So how about you? Have you ever been faced with something that–at first glance–seemed awful, yet had a silver lining you may have missed otherwise?

~Elizabeth

The Facts of Life

My eldest daughter wants to be an actress.              

I’ve been told I should discourage her from this pursuit because so few truly make it. But having been a kid with a dream myself, I’d feel like a hypocrite if I did. 

So I don’t. Rather, I encourage her to reach for whatever it is she wants to do.

Will she make it? I hope so. But if she doesn’t, at least she’ll know she tried.

Which is why it’s hard right now to see her sleeping through yet another day of school–run down from some sort of winter bug that seems particularly relentless where she is concerned. You see, this week is try-outs for the school musical. Try-outs she’s been preparing for for two weeks–first, selecting her song, and then practicing it again and again and again.

If she misses the try-outs, she’s done for this semester’s show and the sadness in her eyes is heartbreaking, truly heartbreaking. And there’s  nothing I can do. Absolutely, positively nothing.

When she was little and fell down, I could kiss away the tears and cover her boo-boo with a Barney band-aid. If the tears continued to fall, a long cuddle on the couch did the trick. But now I feel helpless. Utterly helpless.

Because I get how hard it is when a hurdle you didn’t see coming is suddenly thrown up in your path. Is it life? Sure. And I know it’s something she has to learn. But I’m a mom and moms want to make things better. It’s what we do.

Cross your fingers she feels better soon and that her drama teacher allows her to audition when she’s well, okay?

In the meantime, if you’re a parent–have you ever had to watch from the sidelines as your child learns a lesson you wish they didn’t have to learn? And if you’re not a parent–do you remember a tough lesson you learned as a kid?

~Elizabeth

Lifelong Friends

We were thick as thieves when we were kids, classmates year after year in a small parochial school in Brookfield, Connecticut. Julie and I linked up in fourth grade as two of the newbies in a class that had been together since first grade. Theresa and I made a slightly slower connection, one that built up speed through high school (she was a much needed spice in my life). Diane came in 7th grade and, well, she and I bonded over General Hospital of all things.

We had the kind of friendship that simply was, is, and will always be.

Unfortunately, over the years, life (countless moves, new relationships, etc) decreased our contact to things like Christmas cards and the occasional email. But travel brought Julie and I back in contact…and then Theresa…and then, thanks to facebook, Diane as well. And now that I’m living in the New York area once again, we met up over the Thanksgiving holiday for the first time (as a full group) in twenty-five years.

We started the night at a local Panera, simply catching up on the highlights in each other’s lives. Then, we moved on…staying out until way after midnight, simply enjoying one another’s company and not wanting the evening to end. 

When we finally called it a night, I think I smiled all the way home. During the drive, I found myself thinking about the quote I’d selected to run alongside my senior year picture in our high school yearbook:  To make a friend takes a minute. To be a friend takes a lifetime.

These ladies have been part of my life since I was a little girl. They were there when the writing bug took hold, cheering me on from the sidelines whether I could hear them or not (and dubbing me “the driven one”).   

We’ve gone on to experience a multitude of life’s changes including marriage, children, divorce, sickness, etc. And while we may not have been together physically for all of it, our bonds are tight enough that we can talk about it in hindsight while still looking forward.

Three of the four of us (Diane couldn’t make it) got together just this past week. Julie bought her husband (great guy), I hosted (along with my special guy), and Theresa sprinkled that magical spice over the room that I treasure more and more with each passing day. We talked. We laughed. We pulled out Guesstures and rocked the room. And we laughed some more.

And throughout the night I was reminded again and again of how special childhood friends are. They know your core in a way very few do.  There is no pretense. No worry that you’re being studied or analyzed. No pressure to change a hair on your head. Because they embrace you for who you are…

How about you? Any childhood friends still in your life today? What makes them special?

~Elizabeth