LET'S SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF

 by Judy Ann Davis                                                

Hello Fall!

Someone said not to sweat the small stuff. But as a writer, I think we have an obligation to sweat the small stuff. I believe all the little things we do—from editing a chapter for the fifteenth time to standing at the kitchen sink and thinking to ourselves that a conversation we’ve already created won’t work for a particular character—is part of our desire to strive for excellence and perfection in our work. We owe it to our audience.

 Everyone is aware the ease of self-publishing has caused an explosion of poorly written fiction being dumped into the marketplace. We’ve all downloaded a digital book to our Kindle, Nook, phone, or tablet that was filled with bad grammar, misspellings, incorrect punctuation, and was horrendously embarrassing and painful to read.  And we’ve all hit the “remove from device” link and sent these books to a junkyard in cyberspace far, far away.

But recently, I’ve been amazed with the amount of poorly written copy coming from not only fiction writers, but also writers in newspapers and magazines and (oh, my) writers on the internet. Put aside the fact that they are not checking facts, more and more people are just content to spit out their opinion or construct lazy gibberish on websites and in comment boxes with little regard to how they are shredding the English language.

 “So what?” you ask. “Everyone makes mistakes, right?”

 Do you want your accountant to make a mistake by a few decimal points or a few hundred dollars? How about if your doctor wrote (heaven forbid) a prescription for the wrong drug—or maybe the right drug, but the wrong dosage? Or what if your lawyer sent out a letter on your behalf filled with spelling errors? Even better yet, your plumber decided the joint he connected and sealed in one of your drain pipes is just good enough. Would you be pleased with any of these behaviors?

I believe writers have the same obligation as any other worker in any other occupation. It’s time we take the time to strive for excellence as we string words together for our readers.

James Michener said, “I’m not a very good writer, but I’m an excellent rewriter.” And that’s the secret of good writing. So, I am going to sweat the small stuff. I’m going to take the time to do the best job I can even if it I have to write and rewrite, and rewrite again and again—even if it takes longer than I planned or hoped.

 Now tell me, what bugs you as a writer reading the written word in print or digital? 

MY NEWEST RELEASE: COURTING BETSY  

A Historical Western Romantic Mystery!

COURTING BETSY – Ashmore Brothers Book 3  

 Kindle version and print now available on AMAZON:  https://www.amazon.com/Courting-Betsy-Ashmore-Brothers-Romantic-ebook/dp/B0CFSXKH6L/ 

ASPARAGUE AND WINE - Nothing Can Go Wrong!

                                              by Judy Ann Davis

I am pleased that I have May 24th and 25^th to blog this month on Smart Girls Read Romance. May 24^th is National Asparagus Day…and May 25^th is National WINE day! Now, give me a good steak, or grilled salmon, or a pulled pork dish with asparagus and wine, and I’m in seventh heaven.

From everything I could find about asparagus, it has been used as a vegetable for not only eating, but also for its medicinal properties as a diuretic and as a purported aphrodisiac. It is pictured as an offering on an Egyptian frieze dating to 3000 B.C. It was known in Syria, Iberia, and to the Greeks and Romans who ate it fresh or dried it for winter use. My neighbor raises a variety of asparagus every spring and generously gives me a taste. Many people will tell you a person either loves asparagus or hates it. Which one are you?                                                                       

Now the idea of a national wine day is something everyone can get behind. There are over 10,000 varieties of different grape wines in the world that fit into the classifications of red, white, rose, sparkling, or dessert wines.  Since I’m a fan of Mexican food, I’m a fan of sangria which uses red wine and fruit juices. For a simple glass without any embellishments, I tend to like white wines. If you are an enthusiast of wine, what are your choices?

In celebration of the month that brings us flowers, I think I’ll finish this blog post, and the other household and writing chores, and wander over to the kitchen this evening where the wine is stored. What’s better than finding a comfortable chair, a good book, and a delicious glass of wine to end the day?

Cheers!

UNDER STARRY SKIES 

Amazon Link

Do you like humor and mystery combined? Under Starry Skies is the stand-alone intriguing sequel to my very first western, mystery, and romance, Red Fox Woman. Set in 1875 in the West, it’s a fast-paced read with a quiet rancher, determined schoolmarm, and wily Indian who wants to learn to read.

 

THE DEPUTY'S DAMSEL by Kara O'Neal

I’m thrilled to introduce y’all to Joe Lonnigan and Katia Stefanski, the hero and heroine of my newest release, THE DEPUTY’S DAMSEL. This story takes us to Austin where Katia is wrongly of accused of murder, and Joe, a deputy, believes she’s innocent. Joe hides Katia, protecting her from being arrested, which is at great cost to himself. He’s risking his livelihood and perhaps his life.

But his actions caused an even stickier problem that was quite interesting and heart wrenching to write.

Joe’s cousin, Conner, happens to be the sheriff. So, not only is Joe deceiving his boss, he’s also lying to a member of his family. The scenes between Conner and Joe were just as fraught with tension as the moments of fear and despair Katia experiences being wrongly accused of murder.

The family elements in my books are strong and add so much depth to the characters. And as I wrote THE DEPUTY’S DAMSEL, I found the characters having some very real, very gut-wrenching conversations. My heart pounded hard through the last ten chapters!

Reading this romance will give you ALL the feels, I promise!

THE DEPUTY'S DAMSEL

Pike’s Run, Texas, 1887

Katia Stefanski is stunned when she learns her recently deceased step-father has arranged a marriage for her. Even worse, her step-brother intends to honor it. Despite numerous attempts to convince her brother to let her make the choice, she fails. She flees during the party intended to cement her engagement.

Deputy Joe Lonnigan crosses paths with Katia Stefanski and is struck by her beauty and fighting spirit. When he learns she's been accused of the murder of her not-wanted fiancé, he can't believe it. With her step-brother's help, Joe risks everything to keep her hidden and prove her innocence.

But Katia can't let Joe destroy his future. She’s determined to take matters into her own hands, even if it means the noose.

EXCERPT

Deputy Lonnigan sat tall in the saddle, his front dark as the moon shone from behind him. He put her in mind of a mysterious night rider, capable of taking what he wanted.

She remembered how strong his chest was, how long his arms. She refrained from gulping and strengthened her resolve. “I’m not going home. I refuse. My friend is just up this road, and I intend to stay with her for a few days.”

A moment of silence passed then the deputy said, “Well, I’m not taking you home. But you are coming with me.”

Confused, she couldn’t think of a reply.

“It’ll be the safest option.” He dismounted.

“Oh!” she gasped and back pedaled. “Don’t you dare,” she warned. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’ve got no time to argue.” He advanced on her quickly.

She spun on a heel, preparing to run, but he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. She bucked and kicked, dropping her bag in the process.

“Get your hands off me!” she screamed, terror fueling her jabs.

He gave slight grunts then flipped her over his shoulder.

Her breath whooshed out of her, and blood rushed to her head. “Put me down! How dare you!” She pounded her fists on his back.

He bent easily and picked up her bag with his free hand.

Frantic, she hit him harder, squirming against his hold, but his arm was a vise on the back of her legs. Tears gathered. She had no control. No power. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing in frustration and tasted blood.

After putting her bag on the back of the animal, he righted her and dumped her in the saddle. She knew the moon shone enough to reveal the silver tracks of wetness on her face, but she didn’t care. Panting from the exertion of pummeling him, she surged forward to grab the reins. But he was faster and gathered them before she could reach them. He climbed up behind her, just like yesterday, enveloping her in the cage of his arms.

A handkerchief appeared in her line of sight. Her chin wobbled, and she refused to take it.

“Please don’t cry,” he said softly, as he withdrew his offering. “I don’t have time to explain things to you. We’ve got to get off the road.”

She didn’t understand what he meant, but it wouldn’t matter if she asked. The men surrounding her weren’t listening to her anyway. She kept her mouth shut.

He clucked to the horse then kicked him into a gallop.

She tried to pay attention to her surroundings, noting that he passed the lane that led to the Cummings’ farm. They went through a shallow creek then over a rolling meadow until the shadow of a log cabin loomed.

“This belongs to a friend of mine who’s a Ranger. He’s in west Texas fighting cattle rustlers.”

She didn’t care. This man was abducting her. Her heart pounded hard, and her stomach churned with fear. If she couldn’t get away from him on the road, how would she manage to escape him once he had her tied up somewhere?

When they reached the yard, he dismounted first then lifted her at the waist. He kept his arm around her as he led her into the dwelling.

“I’m not gonna tie you up, Miss Stefanski. You’re not my prisoner. I’m trying to help you, so…” He gently disengaged from her. “Don’t run, all right? I’m gonna light a lantern, and then we’ll talk.”

He’d left the door open. The horse was still saddled. She curled her hands into fists as an insane plan developed like a lightning strike. She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to form a verbal reply since she was no good at lying.

As soon as he stepped away, she dashed out into the yard.

“Don’t,” he called.

She clutched the pommel and put her foot in the stirrup, but before she could pull herself up, he circled her waist with an arm and wrenched her back. Using all her strength, she spun and pounded on his shoulders. “Let me go!”

He switched his grip to her wrists, stopping her hits. “Stop. Please, ma’am.”

His hold wasn’t too strong, and she tried to yank away from him, but he tightened his grasp.

“Miss Stefanski, please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then let me go,” she wailed, choking on her fear.

“I can’t, damn it!” he thundered. “You’re wanted for murder.”

PURCHASE THE DEPUTY'S DAMSEL

The Special Birthday Bike by Laurean Brooks

 

July is the month of Independence day celebrations. As a child it meant tomatoes, sweet corn, and watermelon from one of our three gardens. It also marked another birthday for me.

I can't help thinking back to my twelfth birthday. It's the one that sticks in my memory. I came from a large family, so there wasn't much money to spare. But with Daddy's ingenuity, we were able to have most of the things other kids had.

My older brothers shared a bicycle which my older sister learned to ride, but by the time I was old enough to to ride one, it was had been added to the junk heap. I was terribly embarrassed that at age 12, I'd never learned to ride one.

Then, a week before my twelfth birthday, Daddy brought home a rusty old bicycle with bent fenders, twisted handlebars, and a missing pedal. “Happy Birthday, Laurie. This bike will is your birthday present. I'm going to make it as good as new.

I must admit, after perusing the twisted frame, that I had my doubts he could perform the miracle necessary to get the bicycle in presentable shape to be ridden.

Daddy worked on the old bike for several days, straightening out the fenders, replacing the chain, and adjusting the crooked handlebars. On the morning of my birthday, he shook me awake not long after sunrise, whispering, “Get up. We've got to go pick out a watermelon for your birthday."

Daddy left the room and finished his morning coffee while I changed out of my pajamas and into old jeans and T-shirt. Within minutes we were traipsing across the bottom field through the dewy grass and morning glories that had intertwined with the melon vines, thumping every watermelon that looked large enough to be ripe.

Daddy found a large one that had a dried-up runner. It thumped to perfection. He heaved it up to his shoulder and winked at me. "We'll put this is the freezer so it'll be nice and cold after lunch."

After he'd set the watermelon in the freezer, he announced, “Ralph and I are going to town to buy a can of paint for your bicycle. What color would you like?”

“Blue,” I answered without hesitation. The bicycle had taken shape. Daddy had replaced the tires, besides performing all the mechanical work. All it lacked was a fresh coat of paint to cover the rusty spots and it would look brand new.

When Daddy arrived with the paint, he immediately got to work, He had the bicycle finished in no time. “Now, we just have to give it time to dry.”

It seemed like forever before it did dry. We ate lunch, including the first cake I'd ever baked—my birthday cake under Mama's supervision. I remember adding food coloring to make the icing pink. The cake came out a little lop-sided, but I turned the layers so-so, and leveled it out.

A little later, our entire family enjoyed cold watermelon on the carport. I must have already asked Daddy a dozen times, “Is the paint on the bicycle dry yet?” His answer was the same. “Give it time.”

Daddy checked on the bicycle about 9 p.m. while my siblings Jewell and Paul gathered around, praying.  “The paint's dry,” he said.

Without further adieu, he hopped on my bicycle and pedaled all over the yard yelling, “Wheee!”

Daddy was a stocky man and I was afraid his weight would be too much for my bike, so I cupped my hands and hollered, “Daddy get off my bicycle! You'll break it." He paid me no mind, but kept circling the yard with the glee of a child who had just received his first bicycle.

It took time to learn how to balance the bicycle, and there were a few minor accidents before I learned to use the brakes correctly. I discovered That a bicycle doesn't stop on a dime, was one of those learned lessons. If you throw your feet to the ground instead of hitting the brakes, you are asking for trouble.

I enjoyed that bicycle for years to come. I'm not sure I ever told Daddy how special his gift was. Not just the bicycle, but the toil he put into it to make it special for me.

If you're listening, Daddy, "Thank you! And I love and miss you." 

Share your special birthdays in the comments. We would love to hear them.

************************************************************************

https://www.amazon.com/Not-What-Ordered-Laurean-Brooks-ebook/dp/B096QQ15KW/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2OBG8RD7N6NTV&dchild=1&keywords=not+what+he+ordered%2Flaurean+brooks&qid=1626554919&s=books&sprefix=Not+What+He%2Flaurean+brooks%2Cstripbooks%2C207&sr=1-1

When Carrie shoves a harassing drunk off the boardwalk and leaves him for dead, her troubles begin. Fleeing town as far as her money will carry her, she lands in Abilene, Texas where rancher Josh Kramer thinks she's the young woman he's supposed to pick up. No amount of arguing will change his mind. 

Josh drops Carrie on the buckboard and takes off to his ranch. Aunt Em ordered a woman to help her with housework and he aims to see that this young beauty keeps her end of the deal. 

With no money left, Carrie lets Josh believe what he wants and assumes the identity of Katie Davis, the domestic help Aunt Em ordered. Another shock is in store when Josh's aunt pulls her aside and whispers, "I really ordered you as a bride for Josh, but that will be our little secret."

Enjoy the tension as Carrie tries to hide her true identity until the right moment presents itself. She hadn't counted on falling in love with Josh. Then he finds out the truth from another source and Carrie has to face the music. 

She's a woman on the run, hiding out at Josh's ranch. Not only has Carrie deceived him, but his aunt ordered him a bride...behind his back. Not the domestic help he thought they were getting.

 

Honey Beaulieu: Hot Work in Fry Pan Gulch #humor #western #kickassheroine

The Birth of Honey Beaulieu

by Jacquie Rogers

I couldn't be happier that Honey Beaulieu's story will finally be told. She's been waiting in the wings for over eighteen years—and not all that patiently, I might add.

Her wait is the story of my writing career, almost. I began writing in 1996 when I dreamed a story. That manuscript wasn't completed until two years later. About three chapters from the end, characters and situations for other books began swirling in my head, which sure didn't help to get that first one finished.

One of my critique partners told me to type them up and put them in an Ideas folder, then finish
the book, which I did. I think of that folder as my own private treasure chest. Many of those ideas developed into books--all the Hearts of Owyhee books came from that, as did Sleight of Heart.

But one of the ideas--my favorite--I knew I'd never write because the large publishers (the only option then) would never in a million years buy a non-traditional Western with a female protagonist that didn't have enough romance to be a Romance, didn't have enough paranormal to be a Paranormal, or enough mystery to be a Mystery, and at that time, there weren't any female
action/adventure protagonists.

So this idea stayed in my treasure chest, but every once in a while Honey pounded on the door. I never forgot her, but writing a book takes a very long time and a lot of commitment of resources, so writing an unmarketable book wasn't in the cards.

Then, last year, my critique partner and I were discussing where I should go with my next series. For some reason, Honey banged on the lid of the treasure chest again. Only I have to admit, her name was originally Pansy. She always did hate her name, which is why I changed it in the first reference to her in Much Ado About Marshals, and she hasn't complained since.

So for the first time since 1998, I opened the file and sent it to my friend. She loved Honey right off the bat, almost as much as I did. She pointed out that we don't have to write to someone else's specifications--I can write anything I want! Furthermore, she convinced me that my readers would love it.

I was excited so didn't tell her my misgivings--at least, not many of them. But I worried that my readers wouldn't go for the grittiness or the more bawdy tone. Even so, once I got all the books that I'd committed to writing off my plate, Honey took stage, front and center. She's not wanting to move off, either.

In my initial concept back in 1998, Honey and her two sisters were all pistoleers. Over time, she brought me around to her way of thinking--this series was hers and no one else's. Her sisters' personalities haven't changed but they aren't pistoleers, and the series is definitely all Honey's.

So please enjoy the ride along with Honey Beaulieu. She's quite a gal.  She even has her own blog!

Keep up with Jacquie Rogers' latest news at the
Pickle Barrel Gazette!

Hearts of Owyhee series

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Pickle Barrel Gazette

Romancing The West | Pickle Barrel Bar and Books

So Many Stories To Tell... @JacquieRogers #newrelease #NoSmallTempest

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So Many Stories To Tell... 

by Jacquie Rogers

I would guess most readers expect that an author writes a story, sends it off, and writes another. At least, that's what I thought writers did before I jumped in with both feet.  Oh, how we wish that were so!

But no.

Most of us have several stories in various stages of development. Caroline Clemmons has books plotted ahead, and several to write in 2015.   I have four major projects, plus we might very well be moving this year.  We don’t know.   Sound Transit has claimed our house under Eminent Domain so we’ll be moving sometime soon.  Moving.  Writing.  Those two don’t mix very well.  My critique partner already tried it last year.   My guess is the move cost her an entire book, at least.

Just to give you an idea of a typical workload, here’s what I have on the slate right now:

Lucky Hundred-Dollar Bill – This is a short story that’ll be published in Wolf Creek: Luck of the Draw (Western Fictioneers, under the house name Ford Fargo). Those of you who have read Sleight of Heart will recognize the hero, Burke O’Shaughnessy. This story takes place when Burke was nineteen and first on his own. Status: submitted to the publisher (should be released anytime now).

Muleskinners #2: No Small Tempest – Elsie and her eight draft mules continue the journey to Oregon despite a heckuva storm, Indians, and bandits. Status: released today!).

Hearts of Owyhee #5: Much Ado About Mustangs – Remember Josh McKinnon? (Kade’s younger brother) He’s in for quite a ride when the seller of the ranch he wants will only sell him half. You’ll never guess who bought the other half! Status: I’m still feeling my way along with this one. It’s at 12,000 words and now working on the structure and timeline. We have photos to submit to the cover designer. In fact, I made banner for Google+. Wanna see it?

Muleskinners #3: No Title Yet – Still working on story development, but I need to get that done so that once I’m finished with Much Ado About Mustangs, I can tear right into it.

New western (sorta) series – In development. I’ve written the first scene of the second book (yes, I always start too far in and have to go back), and am now working on the overall story arc. This should be done by the time I’m finished with Muleskinners #3 so I can... you guessed it... tear right into it.

Marketing – While all that is going on, I have a minimum of four blogs to write every month, plus tweeting, Facebooking, G+ing, and now Tsuing.  The latter two don't get all that much attention, for sure.  I belong to a marketing group so I have to hold up my end of the bargain there. And I’m probably forgetting something huge, but I don’t want to think about it too much.

Still and all, I can't help but feel that I'm lucky beyond my dreams to get to do what I do and to participate in the reader community.  We all love to read books.  Some of us are blessed with the wherewithal to write them, too.  Bonus!

You Could Win!

How about you?  Got any big projects in the works?  Another critique partner sent me a cool link for faery garden supplies.  Springtime brings all kinds of new ideas for books and every other thing.  (Plus baseball!)  And I'd love to know what you're reading now.  

One commenter will receive a digital copy of Muleskinners #2: No Small Tempest.  Drawing will be Friday, March 7, 2015, at 9pm Pacific Time.

Hearts of Owyhee

Much Ado About Madams

Much Ado About Marshals

Much Ado About Miners

Much Ado About Mavericks

coming soon:

Much Ado About Mustangs

Amazon Author Page

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The bedrock

By Rain Trueax

Writers do a lot of bios. Most of the time when I write one, I wonder afterward— what did it really mean? What do I include when drawing from 71 years? I thought then about key words, those which crop up  again and again and in my life—nature, animals, writing, books, movies, family, wilderness, love, and the West.

My earliest memories involve the family farm in the foothills of the Cascades. In the years I was growing to womanhood there, it went through many alterations of purpose. The land itself was constant. There were wonderful old dirt wagon roads. One led through a small stream, up past thick woods to an orchard of plum trees where the bears shook down the fruit, and we had to make a lot of noise before arriving for our own share.

My mother spoke of walking there alone one time to get our milk cow. She watched an eagle soar overhead and then down toward that stream where a bear was watching her. The bear ran off when their gazes met. My mother went on to get the wayward cow.

On the farm was a large barn with a rope swing where my brother, cousins, and I could jump off tall stacks of hay, across the floor of the barn, while yelling something we thought was cool. That barn was a fascinating place to explore with one room of milk stanchions, pens for sheep, a loft that made a great club room (if you were willing to share it with bats and owls, and a solid, wooden corral, where once a mighty bull had lived. Dairy bulls are powerful animals with a testy temperament. A pen better be extremely well made if is going to hold one.

In early spring, the hills were covered with trilliums which I was told to never pluck or the plant would never flower again. The rule was-- enjoy the woods but leave it as it is. I learned to swim in a clear mountain river a few miles from the farm and still prefer river swimming to any other kind. 

For first grade, I had to walk a mile and a half on gravel roads to the two room schoolhouse. Spring was the time to watch the pollywogs turn into frogs.

It would not be fair to leave this as though there were only good memories as I can recall sudden deaths, violent moments, and fear that were part of those years. It all blends together into a set of life experiences which are the bedrock of who I am today. Until I began to write this, I hadn't thought how much this is true. However, I have always realized how fortunate I was to live where I had so much time to be alone, to climb cherry trees, read books, create paper dolls, and make up stories.

The energy of that early life has taken me through raising my children, seeing grandchildren born and grow, and to where I am today-- on another small farm in the foothills of the Oregon Coast Range where my husband of fifty years and I raise cattle and sheep, and I write contemporary and historical romances.

In all the ways that count most, for values and goals for my writing and life, I haven’t come so far from that girl growing up in the hills at the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge.

http://raintrueax.blogspot.com/

http://romanceswithanedge.blogspot.com

http://rainydayromances.blogspot.com

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B006UX64X8

http://rainydaytrailers.blogspot.com/

https://twitter.com/RainTrueax

http://www.pinterest.com/raintrueax/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rain-Trueax/200584236675973

and now

https://www.tsu.co/RainTrueax

I would like to add that I was happy to be invited to participate in this group, because I believe in romance writing. I think it is terrific to have a place that brings out the dimensions possible in these books. Romances are not just about two people finding each other but also about the essence of life itself. I think it's valuable for readers to connect with the writers and understand the kind of person who is writing the story and how their story came to be.

 

Pioneer Hearts Western Romance $.99 Event Oct 17-20

You are going to love this! I'm so happy to announce the first ever Pioneer Hearts 99c Western Romance Event! The dates for this event are October 17-20.This sale includes dozens of books for your Kindle, and a selection for your Nook or iBooks libraries, as well. And you know what else is fun? You can win some pretty snazzy prizes!                        Want to one one of two $10 Amazon gift cards? Share our sale and follow our authors! You could also win signed books, a beautiful turquoise pendant necklace (voted a favorite by the Pioneer Hearts Readers Group!), and more! See Rafflecopter here and win! See Nook links here See iBooks links here

By the way, my own book, KATIE AND THE IRISH TEXAN, is also included in this event on Amazon and Apple iBooks for .99.

I hope you can take advantage of this wonderful event and find some great new authors to read!

Thanks for visiting today,

Love, Carra

  Carra Copelin Website, Carra's Blog , Carra's FB page , Carra's Twitter Page