Ah Valentine’s Day. I figure we’ve had enough seriousness, so today we’ll have some light fun, sponsored by my flu med hallucinations (the purple hippos dared me). 608 more words
Every once in a while I’ll see someone, usually a customer, and think, hey, he/she looks exactly like so and so. And then I’ll remember that so and so is a figment of my imagination, and worry that maybe I’m not normal. Then I remember that normal is boring and go back to daydreaming about my story and my imaginary friends.
Recently, I had another experience where my imaginary world collided with the real one. I’m working on a series of suspense/psychological thrillers that take place in the fictional town of Grandville. The town is modeled after my hometown in Oregon. We lived a few miles out of town on a country road and some of my friends owned horses. While my attempts at horseback riding usually involved me hanging on for dear life with my eyes shut I still enjoyed being around the beautiful animals.
One of the two main characters in my work in progress (Current title: A Convincing Accident) works as a Ferrier. While I knew it was the perfect occupation for him, I also knew I should do a bit more research on the subject. So, what happens? Only weeks before visiting our daughter in Colorado, she tells me about her new friend, who happens to be a Ferrier. Not only was he willing to talk about his job, and answer questions, he invited us to come along and watch him shoe a horse. (Thanks again Isaac!)
The experience helped me to know my character better. When you write about someone who is quite a bit different than yourself, you need to know as much about them as possible. I’m a firm believer that what a person does for money does not define them, but obviously, it does matter. It’s also important for plotting purposes. I now know that if he’s late for a job, no one will be shocked. (Of course, no one is shocked when I’m late for work either, but that’s a different story. Smiles sheepishly.) Waiting for the Ferrier is kind of like waiting for the cable guy or the plumber—you’d better leave the whole day open. (On the positive side, there will be no visible butt cracks for your viewing displeasure. A Ferrier is likely going to be wearing Wrangler jeans, which actually fit properly. Admission: I may have had a crush on a cute wrangler-wearer once upon a time, but he never did ask me out. Hm. Maybe this where my cowboy character originated.) Anyway, I also learned that the job is even more physically demanding than I suspected. Muscles required. (Always good to have a reason to put muscle on a male character. Not like those romance heroes who have them for no particular and not once is it even hinted they might actually go to the gym and work out.)
There was another, even stranger, almost spooky coincidence during my trip to Colorado. We spent one night at the ranch where my daughter did a work-trade the summer before. It was a fun experience (we slept in a yurt, my daughter in a teepee.) We were invited to dinner by our hosts. Not only was the food delicious, the conversation was interesting, even when they discussed religion. I kept my opinions to myself, not surprisingly. When there are more than three people in a room I tend to go into listening mode. (In the eighth grade my homeroom teacher named me “The Silent Observer.” It’s still appropriate in certain situations.) Anyway, one of the women who works on the ranch told a story about her son. When he was fourteen he got into a fight with another boy. Unlike the movies where pounding the bully to a pulp will earn you praise from everyone—including the adults— in the real world, (at least in modern times) it gets you assault charges and possibly a conviction that can hang on and haunt you for years.
Well, it just so happens that this is exactly what happens in my book, to my Ferrier guy. In fact, the whole story is hinged on this event. A fight, at fourteen, has a profound effect on the rest of his life. Turns out, the bully who received the (arguably) well-deserved beating is not the forgetting or forgiving type. He’s seeking revenge, many years later, in the form of inflicting “emotional destruction,” on the boy who hurt him, and the girl he was defending. So, there you have it, the premise for A Convincing Accident. Does it sound intriguing?
Why did you let me go on for so long anyway? I should be writing the book!
Oh, and by the way. (Imagine me smiling modestly.) My Tammy J. Palmer books received a glowing mention from Sarah Raplee, on a popular romance blog. Her Amazon page and books are here: https://www.amazon.com/Sarah-Raplee/e/B014XDP5NG
Thanks again Sarah!
You can read it here: https://romancingthegenres.blogspot.com/
Have a great weekend!
Once upon on a time, when I lived in a fantasy world, and still held out hope of being a rich and famous author, I thought it was important that I have a professional, and glamorous photo taken for my future book jacket cover. At the time, I thought all authors were supposed to look like Jackie Collins or Catherine Coulter. So, I had this done:
To be clear, the only reason I’m making this photo public is that I believe it’s important not to take oneself too seriously. Laughing at yourself is almost as much fun as laughing at other people, but no one gets mad at you for it!
So, the other day, around noon, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and was greeted by this:
Still in my pajamas, hair sticking up, wearing the back- up eye -glasses that Jim rightly calls, ‘hideous’. I know enough writers to say with confidence that the second photo is a more accurate portrayal of the author lifestyle. And the glasses aren’t that bad are they?
In other news, my free promotion was a success. More than 500 copies of Playing House and Cousin Q. have been downloaded in the last five days! Won’t you all join me now in my fantasy world where we will pretend that this is every bit as exciting as if people had actually paid for them? (Actually, it kind of is for me. I care more about entertaining people than making money. Not that there is anything wrong with combining the two.)
Now, get out your old glamor shots everyone, and share them on Facebook so we can laugh—uh, I mean admire them with you!
So, I thought I was getting wordpress figured out, but I’m still struggling a bit. It took me two days to find the comments people made (thank you Tina, Patty, and Heidi) and I still don’t know why they won’t show up on the page. I’ve searched my site. I’ve tried changing settings. I’ve googled it several times. I’m still lost and confused…nothing new for me, unfortunately.
Patty—I’m glad you like the site. Thanks for stopping by.
Tina—I changed the settings on comments to make it as easy as possible to leave a comment. You shouldn’t have to put in your name or email. Crossing my fingers that it worked.
Heidi—you’re right, I did leave out the part about me having awesome kids on my about page. Since you brought up, I’m going to share my favorite stories about you and your brother. Nothing embarrassing, I promise.
Andy was quite young the day he threw me a football, and it hit me in the face and broke my glasses. My head was turned and I didn’t see it coming, though with my lack of athletic ability I probably wouldn’t have caught it even if I had. While I was mourning my glasses, Jim was rejoicing, because not only was it a good strong throw, it was done with his left hand. Andy would be a left-handed pitcher! I’ve since learned that this is a good thing. Andy did pitch all the way through high school. He became as big a baseball fan as his father. He even writes articles about fantasy baseball for a site called Roto-baller. Check it out. He’s good.(I’m only a little jealous that he writes much faster than I do.)
One of my favorite memories of Heidi is the day I came outside to find her riding a bike. I asked Andy, “When did she learn how to do that?” He shrugged, “She just did it.” When he got home from work, Jim asked the same question, and got the same answer. I hate to sound like an advertisement for Nike, but there is something to be said for “Just doing it.” Heidi recently spent six weeks learning how to survive in the wilderness. I panic at the idea of an hour without electricity. She can make fire. It takes courage to live life your own way, by your own ideals. She doesn’t just talk about it. She does it.
So, in celebration of the first week of my new site, I’m giving away my books. They’re free until Saturday. The e-version anyway.
Happy Hump Day!