It’s Up To You New York, New York

Ah, Old Blue Eyes. I fell in love with Frank Sinatra when I was a young girl and saw Guys and Dolls on television. That’s when I also fell in love with Marlon Brando, but that’s a subject for another post. This post is about New York. Specifically the Big Six publishers. When Sinatra sang “I want to be a part of it, New York, New York” I’m sure he wasn’t singing from a writer’s perspective talking about getting a publishing contract. But I hear that song and it’s like it’s coming from my heart and soul.

I don’t know what route my published works are going to take. I have one finished novel currently with a small publisher, and I don’t know if it will ever see the light of day. I have a finished first draft that I’m currently revising, and I don’t know if I’m going to go the self-publish, small-publish, or New York route with it when I’m done. I see merits to all three.

Self-publishing is great because you have complete control and reap the most rewards. However, all the work and responsibility is yours. Sure, the writing and revising is a given. But cover design, marketing, extra editing, conversion to e-format… all on you. No help. And, while it’s getting better, there has been a stigma in the past with self-publishing because anyone can self-publish (hence the name), so there is no quality control. There are some really bad books out there. Some people assume if you self-publish it’s because you weren’t good enough for a publisher to take a chance on you. Writers know that isn’t the case, but not all readers are on board with that premise yet. It’s getting better. Cream does rise to the top. I’m just not sure yet when the readers will find the cream. I want them to know I’m the cream and I want them to know where to find me.

Small publishers are becoming a popular choice for writers. It’s the route I chose for my first manuscript (knock on wood). They seem to be a nice middle ground between self-publishing and getting that elusive New York contract. Some accept electronic submissions, which is a big plus. Also, they will handle the cover design, the copy editing, the e-format conversion, and even some marketing for you (check your contracts!) but that doesn’t let you off the hook. Distribution will be severely limited to regional stores, if they print books at all, and you’ll still be expected to do a lot of marketing on your own. Plus, you’ll have to share more of the profits than if you self-publish. At this level, an agent is a good idea, as a contract is involved. At the very least, get a lawyer to review the paperwork.

Agents are a definite if you choose to go the New York route. You aren’t going to get your manuscript on an editor’s desk unless an agent puts it there, and it will definitely be a bulky paper copy. Another bonus is the big publishing houses will do all of the heavy lifting for you — above and beyond the efforts of the small publishing houses — but be aware. You have the least control when you go through the Big Six and you share a bigger percentage of the profits than in self-publishing or with small publishers. They’re also the slowest to pay the royalties out, although you do often get an advance. (New authors will get much smaller advances than established authors. Of course, new authors have trouble getting in with the Big Six to begin with.) What is the biggest benefit you get from going the New York route? The backing of one of the Big Six. If you can say that New York is willing to take a chance on you, then cautious readers are more likely to take a chance on you.

So with the trend going to eBooks and the Big Six hesitant to sell eBooks to libraries and having a tenuous relationship with Amazon… it’s hard to know which way to go. Small publishers look like a bargain, but they look like a lot of work, too, when you consider that for just a little more work you get complete autonomy. Still, I hear Sinatra crooning, “If I can make it there, I can make it anywhere, New York, New York.”

At the end of the day, I probably should finish my revisions before I make any decisions. What have you decided, and how is it working for you?

New Friends, Old Stories, Wonderful Memories

I get homesick a lot. I live nearly 1,000 miles from where I grew up, and sometimes it feels like 1,000,000. I knew all my neighbors—heck, I think I was related to half the town. Now I don’t even know my next door neighbors’ names. So I spend a lot of time talking to writers on online.

You can imagine my surprise when I met a woman who lived in Michigan (I lived there before), Florida (I wouldn’t mind living there if I can’t move home), and now lives in Pittsburgh (the city closest to my hometown and the city where I went to college). We immediately hit it off.

P. C. Zick’s writing career began in 1998 with the publication of her first column in a local paper. By day, she was a high school English teacher, but at night and on vacations, she began writing novels and freelance articles. By 2001, she left teaching and began pursuing a full-time gig as a writer. She describes herself as a “storyteller” no matter the genre.

She writes three blogs. Her blog and her novels contain the elements most dear to her heart, ranging from love to the environment. She believes in living lightly upon this earth with love, laughter, and passion.

She’s working on her sixth novel, Native Lands. Live from the Road was her first venture into self-publishing in 2012. Trails in the Sand followed in January 2013. She’s re-issued two novels previously traditionally published.

She also writes nonfiction. From Seed to Table is a collection of blog posts about gardening and preserving produce. She’s also published her great grandfather’s Civil War journal, Civil War Journal of a Union Soldier. It’s this body of work I’ve asked her to talk about today, because it touches on connecting with our roots, a topic dear to my heart. So without further ado, I give you P. C. Zick.

Heroes for All Time

My great grandfather, Harmon Camburn, died nearly fifty years before I was born, yet for the past forty years a part of him has moved with me from Michigan to Florida to Pennsylvania. He lived between the covers of a light blue notebook on typewritten—and I do mean typewritten—pages prepared by my cousin from his handwritten journal. Those pages contained his experiences as a Union soldier from 1861-1864 when he joined Michigan’s 2nd Infantry and began the long journey to Washington D.C. where President Lincoln himself reviewed the newly minted and young soldiers ready to fight a battle for the preservation of the Union.

This past year, I decided that Harmon Camburn needed to come alive for our time. As I delved into his writings, I often veered off course as I researched some of the names he mentions in his journal. One trail brought me to a woman I’d often heard about in reverential terms in my family. My father and his siblings called her “Aunt Laura,” so I always assumed she was my aunt, too. Only upon researching her did I discover that everyone called her Aunt Laura because of her dedication to important causes. She worked tirelessly to ensure young women and African Americans received an education. She advocated for the abolition of slavery and became a leader in the Underground Railroad. She also fought for women’s suffrage although she died two decades too soon to see women receive the vote. Her Quaker upbringing created in her the quest to help all those who suffered at the hands of inequality. She later joined the Methodist Church after seeking a religion that best suited her beliefs.

She moved to Adrian, Michigan, from New York, with her husband. They had eight children, and yet she still managed to open the Raisin Institute, a school devoted to the education of all—no matter race, religion, or gender. She began working for both the abolition of slavery and the freedom of slaves through her work with the Underground Railroad.

A statute stands in front of the Lenawee County Courthouse in Adrian with the dedication, “A Tribute to a Life Consecrated to the Betterment of Humanity” Her autobiography, A Woman’s Life Work, chronicles her pursuit of equality. Her philosophy and faith is shown through her active narrative. She doesn’t need to pontificate her viewpoint. Her work speaks what she believes. It’s rich with dialogue and shows a life lived with only one thought: the betterment of all humans.

She began hiding runaway slaves on her farm in southeastern Michigan, sometimes personally escorting them to Canada. She became friends with Sojourner Truth during her work at the Freedman’s Hospital in Washington D.C.

Her obituary states that when the Civil War began in 1861, she lost her students and one teacher at the Raisin Institute as they enlisted in the war effort. One of those students was my great grandfather, Harmon Camburn. In addition, after her death in 1898, they brought her body to Harmon Camburn’s home in Adrian for the public to come and pay tribute to “Aunt Laura.”

I discovered through the Camburn family tree that I can claim Laura Haviland as a relative through marriage. Harmon’s older brother married Laura’s daughter, Esther. Other siblings married Havilands as well.

My experience with researching and publishing the Civil War journal gave me a chance to gaze into the lives of both Great Grandfather Camburn and Aunt Laura. They did not live or die as martyrs for a cause, but as real human beings who fought for their beliefs without questioning why they did it. In their hearts and souls, they acted out their faith.

I consider my own life one of relative luxury compared to my ancestors and know that I have many miles to cover before I ever come close to the legacy left to me. Bringing to light the words of Harmon Camburn and the life work of Laura Smith Haviland is my start at walking respectfully in the large footprints they left.

The Civil War Journal of a Union Soldier begins with “An Excuse” from Harmon Camburn.

“If what I write meets the eye of others than those for whom they are intended, I have only this to say: It was only written for my children. And if I confer upon them as much pleasure as I shall take in gratifying them, I shall feel amply repaid.”

I hope both of them are smiling down upon me knowing the work they did is still alive so many years later. I am humbled and grateful for the legacy that both left.

P. C. Zick has lived in Michigan and Florida. She currently lives in Pennsylvania with her husband Robert.

For more information about her work or to follow her on social media, click on the links below:

A Woman’s Life Work by Laura Haviland

Civil War Journal of a Union Soldier (Harmon Camburn) presented by P.C. Zick

Facebook page: www.facebook.com/PCZickCivilWarJournal

Twitter: @PCZick

Blog/Websites:

Writing Whims: http://www.pczick.com

Living Lightly: www.pczick.wordpress.com

Fiction Pet Peeves Part 2—Settings

winter landscape It’s wintertime. I think this is a popular season for reading, mostly because sitting under a blanket with a book and a cup of coffee sounds a lot better than going outside and shoveling snow. Summertime is great for being outside. Not winter. (To those of you who enjoy skiing, snowboarding, building snowmen, or making and throwing snowballs, I apologize. I just don’t get it. I hate being cold.)

But I digress.

I’ve been reading a lot, and thinking about some of the books I’ve read brings me to my next pet peeve. Settings in fiction. Please be patient with me on this one. I know setting a scene is necessary. But there is a right and a wrong way to do it.

1) I don’t like it when a description of the setting is the opening of a book.

Yes, there are some people who could describe the contents of my refrigerator and make it sound like a wonderland. (J.K. Rowling, I mean you. Herman Melville, I do NOT mean you.) But notice that the greats of our time start with something more exciting than the dirty gray brick of the bank the POV character is about to enter. I’m not a huge fan of in media res beginnings. I want to meet the character before the building explodes. That way I know how I should feel about the explosion. But given the choice between the soot-stained walls or the explosion that turns them to rubble, I’ll take the explosion. Every. Time.

2) Purple prose is pretty, but it’s out of place in contemporary fiction.

I know I’ve been guilty of writing like this in the past, so I almost hate to mention it. But descriptions that turn poetic just don’t fit in today’s genre work. We’ve all read probably every adjective possible to describe a sunrise or sunset. And shorelines. Forests. Mountains. Fields of wildflowers. Those descriptions had their day. Now, unless a writer can focus on an unusual detail or give me a reason why this area is unique—or at least important to the POV character—just saying where the character is probably is enough. Save the description for things we’re unfamiliar with. Or for things that are important to the characters.

3) Big blocks of writing to describe the setting can slow my reading pace.

Again, I know setting a scene is important. But it can be done with less intrusion. Do you want a description of the room written like a list? No. But if you have a character interact with things in the room, we’ll get the picture without the dictionary entry. I like it when setting is revealed by a character tripping over a red oriental rug, slamming her knee off the corner of an antique table, and knocking a Tiffany lamp onto the floor. That way, we see the action and we see the decor. And when that same character worries not that she might have chipped a bone in her leg (even as she limps to the camel-backed sofa to sit) but how she’ll pay for the damage she caused? Well, then we get character information, too. It’s a win-win.

So, there you have it. Things that bother me about poorly-handled settings in fiction. Yes, every scene should ground us in the space. But not to open a scene, not with dozens of useless details, and not as a boring list. I’ve read too many novels lately that fail one or more of these criteria, and that bothers me. New York should know better. We should expect better. (And yes, we, as writers, should strive to write these settings better.)

What about you? How do you feel about opening a book or scene with description? Purple prose? Lengthy lists of detail? Is there something I missed? Share this with other readers and writers, and let’s all talk about it.

Writer Wednesday—Chatting with Gordon Bonnet

Every now and then, serendipity intervenes in my life. One of the days she was working overtime was the day I met Gordon Bonnet.

Gordon and I are both published by Oghma Creative Media. At the time I met him, I was the marketing director there, and I met him to discuss media kits, promotional materials, etc.

I didn’t often have time to read every word of every manuscript of every writer we represented, but in Gordon’s case, I made the time. His novel, Kill Switch, grabbed me by the throat. I couldn’t put it down. It was fabulous. Then I learned more about the guy. He not only wrote well, he wrote fast, and he offered Oghma several more manuscripts (which I’m so glad they snatched up). He has a fantastic skeptics blog, Skeptophilia. And not only was he hard-working, he was a joy to work with.

I’m pleased to introduce him to you today, where he talks about his latest release, Lock & Key. Please make him feel at home. Take it away, Gordon…

I was talking to my younger son about quantum physics, as one does, and the subject of the “Many Worlds interpretation” came up.

This is the idea that every time an event could have gone one of two different ways, it goes both—in different universes. Put another way, when there’s a decision to be made, every possible outcome occurs somewhere.

The physicists who take this idea seriously (and there are a few who do) believe that once these splits occur, the timelines become permanently walled off from each other, so that there is no way to slip into an alternate universe and find out how your life would have gone had you chosen differently. As C. S. Lewis put it in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, “‘To know what would have happened, child?’ Aslan said. ‘No, nobody is ever told that.'”

And that was when Nathan said, “Wouldn’t it be cool, though, even though we can’t see what would have happened, if there was a place that kept track of all of the possibilities?”

And that was the birth of the Library of Timelines, the setting for my recently-released novel Lock & Key.

In the opening pages, we meet Darren Ault, a mild-mannered Seattle bookstore owner, who is invited over to his friend Lee’s apartment for dinner. After the meal is over, though, Lee pulls out a pistol and shoots Darren in the head. Far from killing him, the gunshot makes the rest of humanity—Lee included—vanish. Somehow, Darren’s death has caused a temporal paradox, and the event has left only one person alive.

Darren himself.

Well, not just Darren. Also the staff of the Library of Timelines, including the Head Librarian, Archibald Fischer, and Fischer’s right-hand, his administrative assistant Maggie Carmichael.

After some inquiry, they decide to send Darren into the past to try to figure out what has happened and to attempt to repair the damage. This starts Darren on a journey careening through time and history, first to 11th century Scotland, followed by 14th century Norway and 19th century Kentucky, each time to a place and time the Master Computer of the Library has identified as a pivot point for the paradox. Along the way, he meets Vikings, a perennially-depressed Norwegian silversmith, an insane highwayman, a religious cult that believes the way to salvation is through pain, a beautiful red-haired Hebridean lass, a brilliant but unstable physicist, and an elderly peasant woman who couples smart advice with a talent for throwing dumplings at people she doesn’t like.

Darren is assured that on his travels, the Master Computer is looking out for him, and will make sure he is brought back to the Library if his life is in peril. It’s flawless, Fischer says. Darren will be fine, there’s nothing to worry about.

“And the computer always gets you out just in time?” Darren said.

Fischer nodded. “Always. Lightning-fast processor. Cutting-edge technology.”

“Well, there was Janowsky,” Maggie said.

“Oh, yeah,” Fischer said. “I’d forgotten about Janowsky.”

“Janowsky?” Darren said. “What happened to Janowsky?”

“Well…” Fischer acted a little reluctant to discuss the topic. “Janowsky was a Monitor who worked on our custodial staff. He was a bit of a thrill-seeker.”

“Morbid type, if you ask me.” Maggie’s round face radiated disapproval.

“He wanted to take a vacation back to the eighteenth century, and experience the French Revolution first-hand.” Fischer paused. “He got his wish, I guess.”

“He died? I thought you said your computer always kept track of where you were, and could pull you back to the Library!”

“Oh, he came back to the Library,” Maggie said. “Just in two separate chunks, as it were.”

“Took forever to get the stain out of the carpet,” Fischer said.

And with that reassurance, Darren is launched on the adventure of his life.

Lock & Key weaves together time travel with humor, history, and the question that all of us have considered from time to time—what would have happened had we chosen differently?

Just remember, next time you are faced with choices, the decision is yours to make. But everything is being monitored by Fischer and his computer. If you ever get a chance to visit the Library of Timelines, ask Fischer and Maggie if you can check on the Computer and see what would have happened had you made a different choice.

You never know. They might just let you.

Are you as intrigued as I am? How can you not be? I haven’t read this one yet, but it’s definitely on my list.

If you have any questions or comments for Gordon, please leave them below.

And to learn more about him, visit him via the following links:

Website | Amazon Author Page | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

About Gordon:

Gordon Bonnet is a writer, musician, teacher, and scuba diver, and currently lives in upstate New York. His love of fiction began when his story “Crazy Bird Bends His Beak” won critical acclaim in Mrs. Moore’s first grade class at Central Elementary School in St. Albans, West Virginia. His interest in the paranormal goes back almost that far. Introduced to speculative, fantasy, and science fiction by giants in the tradition, he was captivated by their abilities to take the reader to a fictional world and make it seem tangible, to breathe life and passion and personality into characters who were (sometimes) not even human. This fascination with the paranormal, however, has always been tempered by Gordon’s scientific training. This has led to a strange duality—his work as a skeptic and debunker on the popular blog Skeptophilia, while simultaneously writing paranormal and speculative novels, novellas, and short stories. Gordon explains this with a smile. “Well, I do know it’s fiction, after all.”

Passionate Kisses 3

Looking for something steamy for Christmas? Look no further.

Setting the Stage

Sometimes I feel like I talk too much about the projects I’m working on. I mean, I’m passionate about them and want to share them with the world, but I’m not the only author with something to say. So I’ve reached out to some of my author friends and asked them to share their thoughts, their work, their passions with us.

Today, I’m happy to host friend and fellow author P.C. Zick, who is going to talk with us about setting. Take it away, P.C.

Setting the Stage with Setting in Fiction

“The uncertain air that magnified some things and blotted out others hung over the whole Gulf so that all sights were unreal and vision could not be trusted; so that sea and land had the sharp clarities and the vagueness of a dream.” The Pearl by John Steinbeck

Of all the authors who have inspired me in my career, John Steinbeck stands at the forefront. Why do I admire him so much? It’s because of his ability to use setting as a part of the plot.

I’m an avid fan of using the reality of setting—landscape, weather, era, climate—as a strong backdrop to a story. As a reader, descriptions of setting transport me to other places and eras. As a writer, the setting of my fiction gives me one more tool for fine-tuning my plot engine. On a more basic level, I simply love reading descriptions of setting that establish mood and tone. And I adore writing scenes with lush scenery and powerful seasons to project the atmosphere in my plots.

In my novel, Trails in the Sand, I used the setting of a lazy river on a warm day in the first chapter to contrast with the tension about to invade the lives of the main characters as disaster lurks in the Gulf of Mexico on an as-yet unknown oil rig named Deepwater Horizon.

“Our paddles caressed the water without creating a ripple as we floated by turtles sunning on tree trunks fallen into the river. A great blue heron spread its wings on the banks and lifted its large body into the air, breaking the silence of a warm spring day in north Florida. The heron led us down the river of our youth stopping to rest when we fell too far behind. The white spider lilies of spring covered the green banks of the Santa Fe River.” Trails in the Sand by P.C. Zick

Some of the authors I admire most, such as Steinbeck, use setting as a literary technique. A storm becomes a metaphor for tension between characters. The seasons serve as symbols within the theme. Temperatures create mood from humid heat to frigid cold. Place—from sea to river to urban environs—expresses as much about mood as does a character’s words and actions. Setting a story in Tel Aviv establishes a certain mood very different from placing a story in Memphis. Europe in 1942 resounds with air raids and fear. In New York City in 1942, life continues on with only minor inconveniences, such as rationing of nylons and butter.

I set my first novel in Michigan where I grew up, but I wrote it after moving to north Florida. I wanted to use the dramatic seasons of my birth home as a dramatic plot technique. The four distinct seasons of the north helped to create tension and to move the plot toward its dramatic conclusion.

By the time I wrote my third novel, I’d changed settings to Florida. I found myself seeking out ways to describe the varied landscapes so others could see what I discovered when I moved to a very different climate and landscape than where I’d previously lived. Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings of The Yearling and Cross Creek fame, drew such vivid portraits in her novels of north Florida. After reading several of her books, I yearned to write in a similar vein and to show the landscapes and environment surrounding me.

“Somewhere beyond the sink-hole, past the magnolia, under the live oaks, a boy and a yearling ran side by side, and were gone forever.” The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

I didn’t adapt to my new setting easily. When I threatened to take my baby and leave my first husband after watching a lizard cross my path, a neighbor intervened.

“Read Cross Creek,” he said as he presented me with a copy of Rawlings’ famous book, not yet made into a movie. I read avidly, soaking up her descriptions. I slowly learned to appreciate my surroundings with new eyes. Her descriptions of the Florida landscape helped me fall in love with all parts of my adopted home because her experience had been similar to my own. She moved from New York to the wilderness of Florida and had to adapt. Writing helped her make that transition.

I grew to love the snakes and skinks, heat and hurricanes, sand spurs and slash pines. I began to understand how our environment shapes us. Out of Florida’s beaches, marshes, and swamps rose runaway renegades, hardy natives, and tough cowboys. Setting created them as much as genetics.

When I took a leap of faith and left my teaching career to venture into writing full-time, many wondered if I’d lost my mind. A month after I quit, I won an essay contest. It’s no coincidence that the contest honored the woman who allowed me to fall in love with my environment and to fall in love with writing about natural landscapes. The Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings essay contest win gave me the confidence to continue on my journey.

And I continue writing novels where setting surrounds the plot. In another of my Florida novels, Native Lands, the Everglades play an important role in the lives of the characters. The swamp, the isolation, the threat of hurricanes, and the wildlife create the backdrop for intrigue, mystery, and even love.

I’ll leave you with the final lines in Native Lands, where I made an attempt to express my profound love of a descriptive setting to show mood within my fiction.

“The stars twinkled in the dark sky as night settled over the Glades. The crickets croaked and the sulfur from the swamp assaulted their noses as they rolled out their mats to sleep near the fire as Mali and Locka once did on their travels south. The wildlife settled in the mud holes and rivers surrounding them. Slumber descended, as peaceful dreams floated in their heads.” Native Lands by P.C. Zick

Thank you for sharing, P.C. The quotes you chose are powerful reminders of how important setting can be in a work of fiction.

If you’d like to learn more about P.C. and her work, check out the links below.

P.C. Zick began her writing career in 1998 as a journalist. Her first novel was published in 2000. She’s won various awards for her essays, columns, editorials, articles, and fiction. She describes herself as a “storyteller” no matter the genre. She lived in Florida for thirty years, and she finds the stories of Florida and its people and environment a rich base for her contemporary fiction. Florida’s quirky and abundant wildlife—both human and animal—supply her fiction with tales almost too weird to be believable. Her romance trilogy, Behind the Love, is also set in Florida.

She writes two blogs, P.C. Zick and Living Lightly. She has published three nonfiction books and nine novels.

Her writing contains the elements most dear to her heart, ranging from love to the environment.

She believes in living lightly upon this earth with love, laughter, and passion.

Fireworks Aren’t Always in the Sky

Here’s a short story starring Franki and Gianni. This takes place after the end of Bleeding Heart. (Part way through Mind Control, actually, although this won’t be found in that book.) I hope you enjoy it.

Fireworks Aren’t Always in the Sky

Franki stood on the travertine-tiled patio and rubbed her arms against the night chill. Weather in Florence, Italy reminded her of weather at home in Pennsylvania—nearly ninety degrees (Fahrenheit) during the day and low sixties at night, but for some reason, that evening’s breeze blew exceptionally brisk. Unprepared for the cool wind, she’d stepped outside in a tank and shorts. And regretted it immediately.

But the view captivated her, so she stayed and braced herself against the cool air.

The Brotherhood’s home in Pennsylvania was beautiful. Their compound in New York was gorgeous. But their complex in Florence? It simply stole her breath. And she and her sisters knew quality properties. They’d been raised in the construction and design industries, and since the death of her father, were the owners of one of the most prestigious building and design firms in Pittsburgh.

It didn’t take her construction knowledge to know she stood on private property overlooking one of Italy’s most beautiful—and non-touristy—creations. The house behind her rivaled any palace or basilica she’d toured in her first visit to the country. The grounds, however, captured her interest at the moment. The hedge mazes and topiary created shadow-play on the paths as marble statuary gleamed a luminescent hue of white and water in the grottos sparkled from moonlight, star shine, and discrete lighting fixtures. The burbling fountains composed an organic melody, harmonizing with the chirping crickets.

Gianni walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. The warmth she felt from his arms over hers and his torso against her back spread through her body.

And caused her to shiver all over again.

“Cold?” he asked. “It’s a beautiful night.”

She smiled and leaned back against him, not revealing what caused her latest shiver. “The wind just gave me a chill. It is a beautiful night, though.”

“The glow flies are out. June’s nearly over.”

She tipped her head up and looked at him. “Glow flies?”

He nodded toward the hedge maze. “Glow flies. Those little floating blinking lights in the garden. You have them in the States.”

A chuckle escaped her. “Yes, we do. But we call them fireflies. Or lightning bugs.”

He kissed her neck and said, “Hmm.” The vibrations from his lips on her skin gave her another shiver. “I don’t like the sound of lightning bugs.” He nuzzled her neck. “Fireflies is kind of nice, though.”

“I think I like glow flies. And I love it when our cultures merge.”

He kissed her neck again. “Mmm. Me, too. I love it when we merge even more.”

Franki giggled. “I love it here. But I wish we were home for the festivities next week.”

His lips grazed against her shoulder. “Festivities?”

She sighed. “The Fourth of July.”

Gianni didn’t answer. He continued pressing his lips on her arms, her shoulder blades. The nape of her neck.

She shuddered again. “Independence Day?”

“I know what it is,” he murmured. “I just didn’t realize it was next week.”

“The food, the fireworks, the festival… music and dancing and seeing the whole town come out to celebrate.” She sighed. “I love that. I’m going to miss it.”

“Let me see if I can take your mind off it, then.”

He led her inside, and she saw fireworks that night.

* * *

They continued their work for the next week, and Franki tried not to fixate on missing yet another hometown comfort. She was pleasantly surprised when, on July 4, Gianni and Donni threw together a picnic that would rival any festival back home.

Platters of pasta salads, grilled vegetables, and antipastos sat on the table between pulled pork, sausages, burgers, and dogs… all with fresh-baked rolls to put them in. Trays of grilled chicken and barbecued ribs nearly overflowed. Two huge bowls held fresh cut fruit, and sugar-dusted mounds of fried dough sat ready to be topped with gelato, fruit compotes, chopped nuts, homemade hot fudge and salted-caramel sauces, and vanilla-flavored whipped cream.

Why those two idiots loved to work in the kitchen, Franki would never understand. And she’d never complain. Everything was delicious.

After dinner, everyone took drinks out to the patio and settled down to digest their food. Franki sipped on coffee laced with Frangelico. The twins had glasses of Galliano. Jo and Vinnie had beer. The other guys had wine. She’d be content to taste everyone’s drinks, and after feeling comfortably fuzzy from the liquor, slip off to bed.

She sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Gianni asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

“Franki, you’re a lousy liar. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful.”

He waited, staring at her. The others had broken into pairs and talked quietly to each other. She turned toward Gianni, took his hand, and squeezed it. “You worked so hard today. Everything was wonderful. Delicious. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“But you want more?” he said.

“I just miss the fireworks. Despite the perfect picnic, it just doesn’t feel like the Fourth without fireworks.”

“I see.” He fumbled with something in his pocket.

“When I was little, I used to call them ‘a glittery extravaganza in the sky.’”

“Big words.” He sent a text and then looked at her. “How little?”

“I don’t know. Papa teased me about it for years, though.”

“It’s cute.”

“I guess he thought so, anyway.” She looked away from him, out over the gardens. Talking about her recently-deceased father still made her sad.

“Would fireworks tonight make you happy?”

Why dwell on something she couldn’t have. “I’m happy now, Gianni. Really.”

“So, I should cancel tonight’s festivities?”

She so loved his ‘festivities.’ She’d never say no to that. He’d provide her with her own personal fireworks, and that would be an excellent cap to the evening.

“Do you want to go upstairs now?” she asked.

He laughed and shook his head. “You and your one-track mind.”

She looked at him and raised her eyebrow. They didn’t have a language barrier, but every now and then, he confused her. “What are you talking about?”

Gianni sent a final text, then he nodded toward the gardens. “Watch.”

She heard a faint whistle, then the sky exploded into sparkling embers of violet and gold. A loud boom echoed over the gardens, so loud she felt the air shake with the strength of it.

Fireworks.

Spinning toward Gianni, she flung her arms around him and planted a firm kiss on his lips.

He laughed and pulled away. “Turn around, cara. I don’t want you to miss the show.”

She leaned against his chest and watched as the sky sparkled with explosion after explosion of colorful mortars. The finale rivaled any she’d ever seen before.

Franki turned and wrapped her arms around him, and this time he didn’t turn her away. “You did all this for me?”

“Well, I am a joint citizen…”

She kissed him.

“I just want to make you happy, Franki. Always.”

She held him tight, head pressed against his chest. She felt the heat of his body, heard his heartbeat through the thick silence the end of the show left behind.

She pulled away and looked at him. “How about one more show?”

He frowned. “I think they set everything off, cara. I could call and—”

Franki put her finger over his lips, stopping him from continuing. She shook her head and smiled. “I mean the kind of festivities I thought you meant earlier. A private show.”

He stood, pulled her to her feet, and addressed everyone sitting outside. “Donni and I cooked. The rest of you are on dishes. Goodnight.”

They didn’t wait for an answer. He swept Franki off her feet and carried her upstairs for the second finale of the night.

Medici Protectorate Series

This series is inspired by stories my grandfather told me of his heritage. (Not the paranormal part, mind you; the Italian part. As usual, I veered away from my initial inspiration.) This is a saga about four sisters who discover they are Medici descendants, the warriors sworn to protect them, and the diabolical forces determined to use them… or destroy them.

Novels Publisher: Lagan Press.
Short Story, Valuable Treasures: Galway Press.

Click on the covers below to visit the individual book pages, or scroll down further to review some interesting facts pertaining to the series.

Mike watches over the Medici Protectorate, most especially the Brotherhood, for their benefactor. That organization was created centuries ago by none other than Michelangelo himself after making a promise to his benefactor to watch over the Medici family. The best way to do so was to create a secret organization that would protect them throughout the ages. And if and when nefarious groups rose up to destroy them? A magical edge might be just what they needed to turn the tides in their favor. So Michelangelo used the properties of alchemy, the marble in his quarries, and all his talents to devise five daggers, imbued with supernatural properties inherent in the stones and enhanced by the rituals he used. Those daggers were handed down generation after generation to the Brotherhood of the Medici Protectorate to watch over the Medici descendants.

Red Marble Dagger—Passion, Blood, Vengeance
White Marble Dagger—Purity, Clarity, Beginnings
Green Marble Dagger—Life, Balance, Transformation
Black Marble Dagger—Resilience, Protection, Potential
Gold Marble Dagger—Concentration, Honesty, Defense

Interested in a brief look at Michelangelo’s work? Here are his prophecy and the spells he used in the last part of his complicated ritual.

In the twilight hours, starshine glows
As merely tiny embers in the black
Its magnificence to only grow brighter
While the midnight hour forces daylight back

And though the starlight twinkles on in ink
Its purpose not to shine, but just to guide
The branches of the tree will bloom new buds
Growing evermore o’re the divide

As long as just one leaf in bud or bloom
On the boughs continues not to fade
Starlight will shine in watch over the branch
And guard the new green, always at its aid

The light divines the stones always to shield
And not until the end their duty yield

Creation of the Brotherhood

Pittsburgh_skyline7 — By Filipe Fortes from New York, United States ([1]) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

This is a view of the Pittsburgh Skyline, taken from the top of Mt. Washington. In Bleeding Heart, this is the view from NBD, the Notaro family business. Franki and Gianni also spend time admiring the view one evening before they leave on their first official date.

From Wikipedia: (Mt. Washington) is known for its steep hill overlooking the Pittsburgh skyline, which was rated the second most beautiful vista in America by USA Weekend (and the best urban vista);^[2] its funiculars, the Duquesne and Monongahela Inclines, which are the oldest continuous inclines in the world; and for the row of upscale restaurants paralleling the crest of Mount Washington, the hill the community sits upon.

This is the Porch of the Maidens. It can be found in the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I spent a lot of time at the museum when I was in college, and this was a particular favorite area to visit. Housed in the Hall of Architecture—which is the largest collection of plaster casts in the country—the Porch of the Maidens shows four of the six maidens who stand on the southern porch of the Acropolis.

Excerpt from Chapter 4 of Camille Paglia, Glittering Images: A Journey through Art from Egypt to Star Wars, Knopf Doubleday, 2012, pp. 20-25. When is the burden of the gods lighter than air? Six stately young women stand like sentinels on a marble parapet atop the Athenian Acropolis. They are gazing at the Parthenon, the great temple of Athena that, even in its present ruin, is one of the marvels of the world. Casual and relaxed, the women are balancing a heavy stone roof on their heads. It is a remarkable display of female power: voluptuous curves combined with massive, muscular strength. … The young women are dressed in a fine peplos, a tunic doubled back at the bodice in a bottom-heavy arc and pinned at the shoulders with a brooch. Their long hair, falling in a loose braid down the back, presumably signals their unmarried status, since contemporary Greek matrons wore a chignon. The caryatids’ fleshy physique is distinctly revealed by their “wet look” robes (also worn by goddesses on a Parthenon pediment). These pensive girls with their broad, ripe, thrusting breasts seem eagerly poised for marriage.

These women hold a special place in Franki’s heart (Francesca, the female lead of Bleeding Heart), and she consequently spends a lot of time there with Gianni (the male lead).

Peace

This Sunday is International Day of Peace. The United Nations created this holiday in 1981, and in 2002, they declared it a permanent holiday. Every year, on September 21, the UN urges peace for all people and the cessation of hostilities across the globe.

Some people love the UN, some people hate it, but regardless of your opinions and your politics, this seems like a holiday we can all get behind.

I don’t have control over national military groups; I can’t halt attacks or call a cease-fire. What I can do, however, is try to promote peace where I am.

I can be more tolerant of people on the road.
I can communicate calmly and rationally instead of with sarcasm and hostility.
I can pray that all people around the globe find peace and that the violence permanently ends.

Recommendations from the UN:

Visit the United Nations in New York City.
Plant a peace tree.
Attend a peace rally.
Light a candle at dusk in support of world peace.
Practice peaceful resolution and problem-solving skills in your daily interpersonal interactions.

“It is not enough to teach children how to read, write and count. Education has to cultivate mutual respect for others and the world in which we live, and help people forge more just, inclusive and peaceful societies.” – UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon on the 100-day countdown message to the International Day of Peace.

For Writers:
Fiction surges forward when we introduce conflict, stagnates when everything is harmonious. However, the quest for peace can be filled with strife, making the peaceful resolution (or climax) that much more satisfying.

Don’t let your fiction flounder because everyone is calm, rational, and diplomatic. Instead, introduce several problems, so that when they are all conquered the resolution and subsequent peace has the impact you’re hoping for.

For Everyone:
No one lives perpetually in a state of serenity and calm. But it’s something we can all strive toward. I hope you all have a peaceful International Day of Peace.

Hopefully someday peace won’t just be a day we commemorate, but it will be a way of life. (click to tweet that)

How do you think you’ll celebrate Peace Day? Do you have any suggestions? Let’s talk about it here.

Book Spotlight: Deception, Book One of The Transformed Series by Stacy Claflin

I thought I’d mix things up a little bit, and talk about books this month.

Sure, you can go online and find hundreds of reviews for books by Stephen King, Nora Roberts, James Patterson… If an author is already a NYTBSA, he or she hardly needs a book review from me.

But what about the “little people” that New York has forgotten?

I’m taking books that I like from different genres this month and spotlighting them here.

Hopefully you’re looking for a book in one of these genres, and you’ll give my recommendation a try.

This week’s genre: Young Adult

Sub-genre: Paranormal Romance

Deception by Stacy Claflin is a story of a young girl’s transformation from “normal girl” (which she never was) to vampire royalty, and all the trials she faces as she embraces her new role with her people. Along the way, she finds love, family, danger, and deception.

Deception takes place in contemporary Delphic Cove, a small town in the state of Washington, where the girl Alexis grew up. But Marguerite, the vampire and the sonnast, was born in a castle. Time is spent there, as well as in the woods and in another vampire’s castle too. Readers are really given a sense of who the girl was and who the sonnast is, in part because of the locales Claflin creates.

Deception is an entertaining novel for teens and adults alike. This isn’t just another vampire novel. Claflin creates an interesting world and a compelling mythology never before seen in literature. The characters are easy to relate to, the plot is well-conceived, the pacing is strong, and the rules for the storyworld are new and first rate. I give this book 5 stars, and I’m certain if you give it a chance, you will too.

If you’re looking for a fantasy with romance, intrigue, and action, you’ve found the story. Heck, you’ve found the series you should be reading. Deception, Book One of the Transformed Series by Stacy Claflin is your ticket to an exciting new world.

Stacy lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, their two sons, and their dog. She’s a homeschooler and owner of a daycare, and loves spending time with family and friends. But every spare moment she has is spent writing short stories or novels for one of her three series. Check out the vampire saga (The Transformed Series), the ghost series (The Mercy Series), and soon, her first foray into non-paranormal fiction, Gone (part one of a YA suspense/thriller series).

Connect with Stacy at her website.

Find Deception and all Stacy’s work on Amazon.


Book 1	Book 2	Book 3	Book 4

	Full Collection	Prequel Short