My Little Gardening Library

 

 

I love this quote, but if you know me there is one more important ingredient to give me everything I need. . . my dogs!

 

 

 

Years ago when I was more an antique dealer than I writer, I collected vintage gardening books and made a special place for them in my house. Tucked away in the back corner of my sitting room were built-in shelves I hated. Hated because I wanted an old cupboard where the shelves took up so much space. It didn't take me long to figure out the shelves were perfect to start a little library. I filled them with old gardening books, small treasures, and a few tiny oil paintings. It is a peaceful spot where I can hide out and dream about the past and future while surrounded by beauty. The books there range from late 1800's to mid century. While it is organized and I can label it 'my library', all the other books I collect and read are stacked all over the house. I haven't figured out what to call them yet.

 

 

 

The hated built-in book shelves now house my garden library.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A favorite Rose book

 

 

 

 

My collection of vintage and antique gardening books make a sweet library in my sitting room.

 

 

 

 

The antique dealer in me surfaces with small items added to the library shelves.

 

 

 

 

 

Some houses have formal libraries, some with books on shelves or piled high on tables, by the sofa, or bedside.  I can't imagine a house without books. It would not seem like a home to me. My guess is we all agree on that!

 

 

Thanks for reading! To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s website, click here: http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-sept-2016

 

 



You Can't Judge A Book By Its Cover . . .

What makes you buy a book?

You Can't Judge A Book By Its Cover. But the cover can certainly make you buy the book. At least for me, the cover is what draws me to a book in the first place. I am a visual person, my senses enhanced by what I see. My urge to spend money also ignited by something that is colorful, pretty, whimsical. I have bought books because of the cover, books I never planned to read, but loved the artwork.

     Perhaps it goes back to my career with the federal government. A great job, but for one that wanted to be surrounded by beauty, a government office is a dreary setting. I used to joke, “If only I could have a wicker chair and a hooked rug in my little nook.” I could keep books tucked around my desk, tiny pieces of art that made me smile as I went about my work.

     The words on the back cover play a huge role, too, on my purchasing the book. If the cover has pulled me in, made me hold the book in my hands, or enlarge the photo on my computer, I want to read what it is about. That small space where the author leaves a blurb is as important to me as an elevator pitch to an agent. Make me want to read you.  My attention span is short and you need to grab me.

      Recommendations by other authors? I don’t pay attention to them. It’s nice if you have a novel and a NY Times Best Seller Author has left a kind line on your jacket. It just tells me that person loved the book. But will I? An award-winning book? Perhaps that will get more attention from me.

     My own reading habits and book purchases are questionable at best. Loving  the art on the cover, instead of reading reviews, and buying the book versus  reading a great review and putting the book back on the shelf because I don't like the cover. I always go for the look I love best.
 

     Certain images that pull me in, make me want to see what the book has to offer, go along with my passions in life. As a gardener, antique dealer, dog hoarder, it should come as no surprise I can’t pass up a book with any related image to the above. If there are people on the cover, please don’t show me their faces, or much of their body parts. I like to form my own opinion of what the characters look like. If I don’t like the people pictured on the jacket, well, I won’t like the book. Just telling it as it is for me.
 
     The exception to my rule, memoirs. There, a photo is a must. My stalker self comes out. I want to see who I am reading about. An example below, A Three Dog Life by Abigail Thomas.  The cover hits many of my must-haves. A photo of the author and her dogs. And to contradict my earlier comment about blurbs by other authors, Stephen King says it is the best memoir he's ever read. Okay, I am inconsistent. But that cover, oh my.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love the cover on The Language of Flowers. Bought the book in 2012,  and haven't read it yet. The image makes me smile and the book is placed where I can see it on my dresser.

 

 

 

Of course, I am crazy about all of Jackie Bouchard's book covers. What dog lover could pass by this cover without taking a peek at the book? And the back blurb, well, guess what the dog ate . . .

 

 

 

 

Then there is whimsy? Below are two covers that made me stop and look on Amazon.

 

Garden illustrations . . . A Sweet Cover

 

 

 

Apprentice to a Garden

 

 

Not only does this cover make me smile, it makes me hungry. So I might buy the book and a cupcake.

 

 

Cappuccinos, Cupcakes, and a Corpse

 

So I read and loved Abigail Thomas' memoir, I own the Language of Flowers, and yes, I might buy the other two books based on the cover art.

 

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My memoir cover in 2010 drew some comments on The Book Designer site (link to site but not comments on my cover. That was some time ago.) No one liked that I had so much white in the cover (it did fade as a thumbnail and I had to frame it in black) and men did not understand the image of sunglasses being tossed, thinking I was getting rid of my husband's glasses. A friend, a professional designer, came up with the cover.  Since the essays are of hope, and the memoir a bit quirky, the pink and white seemed to convey more of the nature of my story. Does it draw a buyer in? I haven't a clue. But I hope it lets the reader know the book is more lighthearted in its approach.

 

 

 

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I wish I had a more intellectual way of choosing books. For me, my method works. How do you choose what you will read next? And what do you like on a book jacket?

 Thanks for reading! To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s website, click here: 

http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-july-2016

 

 

Fantasy to Fiction

I have a house fantasy. I call it The Cottage In My Mind. I even started a blog to write about my dream house and other houses that fascinated me. The blog was not so much to be entertaining, with its lovely photos and work in progress on my own house, a late 1040's rambling ranch, that is a great house, but no matter what I do, it is a ranch, but a way for me to exorcize the demon that entered my brain some years ago, whispering . . . move. . .

The cottage in my mind is a lovely Victorian beach house close to the water, or just a sweet Victorian cottage in a small town an hour or two from Atlanta, and these days, it is a farmhouse on several acres. I can't decide where I want to live and how I want to live. Do I want to be in the middle of all the activities in Decatur (my little town minutes from Atlanta) where development is booming, a Starbucks, Home Goods, and two small shop areas are being built as I type, or a small community where everyone knows your name (the town my version of the bar in Cheers).  Then there is the farm, a small farm with several acres, lots of out buildings, and a few hens and goats. Picture my six dogs in that scenario - not so much a good thing. They love chicken.

In the last two years I've had my house up for sale for thirty days each time. I had developers interested and a few offers that were hard to refuse, but my ongoing hip issues made it impossible for me to get my act together and move a house load of antiques, art, and dogs. So I took the house off the market before I said yes to someone.

I thought common sense prevailed, as I am having my second hip replacement on April 24th, but no, I went to a small town about two hours away and discovered a house I love. All the things I dream about and on one level and several acres of property. The house is dropped in the middle of the charming town on several acres, but not isolated from civilization. Should I? Could I? Would I? Maybe, after my surgery and rehab. I've talked to the realtor. But I am months away from doing anything. And when my hip is fully functioning,  maybe my brain will be, too, and the cottage in my mind will be just a lovely dream. Time will tell.

In the meantime, while I can't move, I can write. This past week I started writing a cozy mystery. Guess where it takes place? A fake town name and location, but the latest fantasy house is the setting for my new book. I am having the time of my life dreaming big of how I would live in such a town and solve a murder! Yes, I am the character in the book, disguised as a thin agile woman, but the six dogs may be a giveaway!

The last time I fell in love with a house that I could not buy, back in 2011, I penned my little sexy thriller, Danger In Her Words. The setting was the house close to Athens, Georgia I loved so dearly. Making it the scene of my book helped heal the wound I could not buy it. I fall in love deeply with houses but once I've had my way with them in my writing, well, I am on to the next one.

Luckily for my husband when he was alive I was not so fickle with our true love!  This latest house is my dream. No telling where that dream will take me. If I get a fun cozy mystery out of my latest passion I can't ask for anything more.

Unless, this is the one. Then it will be a different story.

Which makes me wonder, what fuels your passion for your stories' settings?

Note: Thanks for reading. This post is part of Julie Valerie's FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP. To return to the blog hop and find some great posts just  go to  http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-mar-2016

Borrowing From Elizabeth Gilbert

 

October 28, 2015. Sharing this post as part of a book blog hop. Thanks for reading! To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog, click here: 

http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-oct-2015/

I have an imaginary relationship with Elizabeth Gilbert. It started with my widow book. I had never heard of Ms. Gilbert before and then about the time my book was finished there was a huge hoopla about her book Eat, Pray, Love.  She was trying to find herself after a divorce. I was trying to find myself as a new widow. She spoke to God. I wrote short quirky notes to God. I saw similarities in our stories, small ones, and wondered why my book didn't become a best seller. I was very naïve then. So humor me with my ignorance! I wasn't sure I liked her when I started reading her book. Then I saw a TED talk where she spoke on your elusive, creative genius. I watched in awe and from that moment on I have respected her and probably wanted to be her! But not for her fame - for her grace and eloquence. This past week she blew me away again with her writing. I had to borrow her post from Facebook and share it here. In the face of tragedy she has nailed it. I don't know.  Every day we are flooded with horrific news both on the national and personal level. What do you say? What can you do?  I don't know. Elizabeth Gilbert writes just that. I don't know. . . . but I will sit here with you through this.

Those words may become my mantra.  I do know her post reminded me of my first year as a widow, when I was lost. My friends did not offer advice, they sat with me, they made me get out of the house, they showed their love by being there for me in my darkest hours. They were there for me as I worked back into the light.

Elizabeth Gilbert, once again you have wowed me with your words and insight. Thank you for your beautiful post.



Dear Ones -
I woke up yesterday in joy, and went to bed in sorrow.
I woke up yesterday to the delightful news that my book was a #1 bestseller, and went to bed heartbroken and shaken by the awful news of yet another mass-shooting in America.
I won't be writing a political message here today. The internet is filled with outraged people arguing with each other this morning, and I can't bring myself to contribute more argument to the world right now.
This morning, I'm just writing to say: I don't know.
My heart is broken, and I don't know what to do about it — in the same way that I don't know what to do about the plight of the Syrian refugees, or the rise of ISIS, or the deterioration of the Sudan, or the stubborn endurance of racism, or the onslaught of climate change.
I don't know. I don't know how to fix any of it.
I do know this, though: I know that great joy and great sorrow have something in common, which is: they both cause us to overflow. Joy and sorrow are emotions that make us SPILL — because they are too big for us to contain.
I always know what to do with my overflow of joy — that's easy: You dance it out, you laugh it out, you celebrate, you cheer, you pop the champagne.
I don't always know what to do with my overflow of sorrow. Last night, alone in a hotel room, I lay awake for hours, overflowing in too much sadness to handle. I found myself saying again and again to God, "I don't know what any of this is for, but please help us."
I also found myself thinking about a beautiful young woman at one of my speaking events recently, who asked me how — after a recent devastating personal loss — she is meant to go on. She asked me what God intends, by making her suffer so much? I don't know what her loss was, but I could see by her face, it was very bad.
What was that loss FOR?
The answer is: I don't know.
I don't know what suffering and sorrow and injustice and brutality and loss are FOR.
It's so easy to know what joy and happiness and love and grace are FOR — they are to be celebrated and shared. Joy and good fortune seem to be proof of our divine blessings — proof that God is smiling upon you, proof that you are being looked after, proof that your angels are protecting you, proof that life is fair.
But what is suffering for?
I always hate the simple, reductive answers people often offer up about suffering — because I feel like those answers sometimes only bring more sorrow to those who are in pain.
To blithely say that "This is God's will," in the face of terrible events, seems cruel to me. (Or worse, to say "This is God's punishment!" — Lord help us, what a brutal and inhumane statement.)
To tell a mother whose child has died, "God must have wanted another angel," is almost too awful to bear.
To say, "Well, that must be karma", is also terrible and dismissive. You might as well just shrug at someone's unbearable pain and say, "Hey, shit happens, man."
To say, "Someday this will make you stronger," to someone who is at their weakest? No. Don't ever say that.
To say, "Maybe this tragedy will open up people's eyes about what's going on, and so your child's death won't have been in vain!" is to use another human's life as a political tool. Which is just monstrous.
To say to someone who is being asked to endure the worst sorrow of their lives: "God never gives us more than we can handle!" is so outrageously hurtful, I don't know how anyone ever got to the end of that sentence without being punched in the face.
People seem awfully confident at times, speaking on behalf of God's agenda.
I don't where people get their confidence, to say that they know what God is up to. I don't make such presumptions. In the face of outrageous sorrow, I can only say, "I don't know."
And once we have said that — "I don't know" — then we have reached the end of ourselves. Then, maybe all we can do is sit in silence with the person who is suffering, or with the people who are suffering, and just say, "I will stay here with you."
That's easier to do on the intimate scale than the global scale, but I feel like that's what the great compassionate souls have always done. They say to a sorrowful world: "I don't know why this is happening. But I will stay here with you. I will sit beside you. I see your pain, and although I don't know how to solve it, I will be here with you."
The great compassionate souls always take their overflow of sorrow and turn it into love.
I don't have any answers for anyone today. This is one of those days for me when the world overwhelms, and I feel very small.
But when the world starts to feel overwhelming in its sorrows, I always ask myself to look around me — to narrow down my focus — and to notice somebody who is nearby me, who is suffering. I can't help the millions, but maybe I can help one. You never have to look very far to find a suffering soul. Life is hard; there is always someone going through great pain. I tell myself: Go sit with that person today for a while. Don't try to solve their life, or answer for God, or offer dismissive "reasons", or try fix the whole world. Just say, "I don't know. But I will sit with you through this."
Turn your overflow of sorrow into love. That's the only thing I know how to do sometimes.
Love and blessings,
Liz

Addendum 10/28/2015 More Inspiration from Elizabeth Gilbert.

I am currently reading her new book Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear . Awesomeness! It's a collection of very short essays on different topics, divided into six sections: Courage, Enchantment, Permission, Persistence, Trust, and Divinity. The perfect inspiration for artists but especially so for writers. Oh, Elizabeth, I do so want to be you!

Remember this post is part of Julie Valerie's Book Blog Hop. Visit other posts
http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-oct-2015/

Have a wonderful creative and fun day! Share what you are working on in comments and what is inspiring you!

Percocet and Peaches

Last spring when I had my hip replacement surgery I was dosed up on pain meds. From the first IV drip to the final prescription for pills as I was wheeled out the front door of the hospital to head home, I was told, keep the pain from getting out of control so you can do your physical therapy.

Being a smart ass, I told my nurses and therapists I would throw a twelve-step party when I felt better. I dreamed of writing a Southern Gothic novel called Percocet and Peaches (if you steal my title, remember I know where you are!)

The pills worked. No, I am not addicted to pain meds. And no, I am not making light of those that are. I still take hydrocodone daily and I'd like to say the vision above was me - working to a frenzy - writing my next novel or memoir. But the reality is, the meds have slowed me down.

Writer's block. Maybe. Perhaps they have given me, along with my surgery, permission to chill and figure out what's next in my life.

To answer an unasked question - why am I still on pills?  My surgery hip is great - but my other hip may be facing a repeat performance. The pills are for that pain, so I can move around without a walker and regain my life!

I am working to go pill free - and since the only addiction I have is to dogs, books, and antiques, I feel safe I am almost there.

Looking back on my work I realized a health situation spurred me on to produce everything I've written. My widow memoir was penned after my husband's death (a final health issue if there ever was one). My slightly naughty novel was shot up to Amazon three days before my hysterical hysterectomy in 2013, and my dog picture book published a few days before my hip surgery in May. Last December I pulled together a 31 author Christmas anthology (with proceeds going to First Book, a children's literacy charity) while housebound with a pulled muscle in my knee.

This begs me to ask myself - can I write under ordinary circumstances? At least if a reader finds typos in my work, I can play the health card and get out of jail free, for a moment anyway.

My brain stays scrambled with things I want to write - not with the drugs. Surgery has slowed me down on some fronts, but when I look at my author page on Amazon, I realize for every hit I've taken physically I have something to show for it. Not too bad. Although, I am looking for the day I write from pure joy and not from pain! On so many levels!

That said, what makes you sit down and write? We are all challenged by the things life throws at us yet are productive with what is important to us. What triggers your artistic side to come through. . . would love for you to share!

 

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This post is part of a blog hop. Want to read more? Not by me, but by other wonderful writers, then join in. To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog, click here: http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-sep-2015

 

A Journal, New Sneakers, A New Lease On Life - Just In Time For My Birthday

My new journal

Update: 9/24/2014 Sharing this post today as part of Julie Valerie's Hump Day Blog Hop. Link here to join the fun and meet other authors!

Lately I've been grumpy. So unlike myself. I usually wake up to dogs rolling around on the bed next to me, trying to lick my face, as my arms and hands flail wildly in front of them, protecting my nose from assault. I've got that move down to a science.  Then I laugh and we all run down the hall so I can let them out and feed them.

They are deliriously happy their morning has begun at 6:45 am. No longer do my dogs sleep in late with me, they have trained me to get up as soon as that minute hand hits the correct time on their internal clocks and they want FOOD.

Fifteen minutes later we are all back in bed for another hour or two of sleep. Since I am the queen of late night - some nights not going to bed until 3 or 4 am, my sleep is non-existent. Some days you will find us napping mid day, basking in the sun coming through the sheer white curtains on my bedroom window, a breeze above from the ceiling fan, and the glorious pastel colors of my old paint cottage furniture shimmering before me as I drift off for a nap and dream.

So how does grumpy fit this scenario? It's taken me some time but I figured it out and I am fixing it NOW.

This year has been a health one for me. Nothing horrible, but one thing on top of another, that kept me from doing the things I wanted. Slowed me down, and I am a fast lane type of gal. I had a bucket list of things to accomplish when I turned sixty-five last year. Surgery, a naughty hip (not related to any surgery), and trouble walking from heaven knows what I did to my feet kept me from getting about like I like. 

A friend gave me a wake-up call this week. I hobbled in to a lovely little café to meet her for lunch, grumbling how everything hurt. (Old lady talk I hate,  but indulged in). She smiled at me and gently said, "You haven't been quite yourself since your surgery in February."

I knew that. But when she said it a flood gate opened up. I think having someone take notice, made me sit up and take notice.  Those simple few words, said kindly, snapped me back to my own reality. I needed to take charge of my life again. Get busy on my bucket list.

I still have some doctor's appointments before my birthday next week. But I got a head start on feeling better! My flimsy girlie shoes got trashed for a pair of Dr. Scholl's comfy and trendy chic sneakers. I am walking on heaven and my feet are liking me again, as is my hip, and, yes, my attitude is now back to gratitude.

I also found this sweet pink journal at TJMaxx, where I found my shoes, at a big savings all around.

For someone who keeps an online journal, this book called out to me at the checkout counter, where it and many other items are so conveniently placed to make you spend more.

Today Will Be The Best Day Ever

 

Another message I needed to hear. I added the journal to my stash and whipped out my debit card. I saw 'grumpy' fade to pink as I punched in my pin.

My first entry was today:

 

 

Somehow I'd lost touch with my favorite word - POSSIBLIITES. I'm glad I found it again. I'm in the pink.  Every day I will post a word of gratitude for all the blessings I have and add to my bucket list for the coming year. My birthday is next week. Sixty-six. BRING. IT. ON. It's going to rock!

 

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Update: September 24, 2014. Sharing this post on Julie Valerie's Book Blog as part of the Hump Day Blog Hop. Join in the fun and click on the link or the one below.

HUMP DAY BLOG HOP
“On Hump Day About Books”

RUNS FOR ONE WEEK
WEDNESDAY (Sept 24, 2014) to WEDNESDAY (Oct 1, 2014)

 

Like To party? Hop along the Hump Day Blog Hop on Julie Valerie's Book Blog. Click here to return to the Hump Day Blog Hop.

 

 

 

"What's On Page 25?" Chick Lit Author Blog Hop and Grand Prize Raffle

Chick Lit Author Blog Hop 2013 asks: “What’s on page 25?”

Join in for a week of fun with the 2nd annual Chick Lit Author Blog Hop. Enter to win a Kindle Keyboard 3G and more. New to blog hops?  Want to learn how to win the grand prize by collecting the secret words? Find complete information by clicking here.

The Rafflecopter prize registry form will close at 11:59 pm on May 27, 2013. The winner will be selected by random drawing and notified by email the following morning. See form at the end of this post.

In addition to the grand prize, you can enter to win a free copy of  The Unfaithful Widow, by posting a comment below. A separate drawing on this blog only will be done for my e-book and the winner announced on May 28th.

List of other blogs below.

So Just What Is On Page 25 Of My Book?

I flipped open The Unfaithful Widow to be greeted with "Down The Rabbit Hole." Like Alice's white rabbit, I am always chiming “I'm late, I'm late.” I can't remember getting any place on time as far back as...well, as far back as I can remember! I used to think it was my creative brain working in a stodgy federal office. With a flex schedule that allowed me from 6 am to 9:30 am to appear at my desk, most days I didn't show up until 9:45. I was always in trouble it seemed. I haven't changed much.

Dating again the first year after my husband's death was a challenge. I wanted out of the house to be alive with people, but the effort to be on time was staggering. After years of just grabbing my husband's arm and heading out the door, I now had to prep to look my best for someone who most likely would look their worst.

Anyone who has done the online dating thing will agree there aren't many reasons to spur you out of the house in anticipation. Dinner was my inspiration. I'd pay for my meal, order what I wanted, then rush back to the comfort of my house and dogs. (Win the grand prize! The 24th secret word in the 25-word sentence is: hopping)

I finally got up the nerve to invite a male I knew to my house. Timing is everything. It's hell to be caught with your pants down, or in my case, in my undies. A short excerpt follows:

* * * * * * * *

“Come over for dinner tomorrow.” I couldn't believe I actually said those words. No one had been in my house other than my best friend since my husband died.

“What are you cooking?”

Obviously he was not a close friend if he asked that question.

“Pizza delivery. Does that work for you?” Now I am sorry I've opened my mouth to take this step

But the plans were made and my friend was due shortly.

I looked at the floor with its fine layer of dog hairs and then at the clock. Plenty of time, I thought. I'll run the vacuum. Dog hairs are my social faux pas. It is especially fatal when the person is wearing black.

I had just pulled the vacuum into the living room when there was a loud knock on my front door.

The dogs started barking and I ran up to the door yelling over the howling hounds, “Yes, who is it?”

My guest had arrived early. Another indication this was not someone who knew me well. There I was standing in my knickers and bra.

“Wait a minute. I'll be ready in a jiff.”

Well, I thought pleasantly to myself, no need to vacuum now.

* * * * * * * *

The Unfaithful Widow is my story on my first year alone doing all those things I thought I'd never do again with the help of a vintage Corvette, the best girlfriends, a bevy of rescue dogs, bad dates leading to good things, and signs from the universe. For a true confession it has all the elements of a great chick lit story, shared over a cup of tea, or as I prefer, a frozen Margarita!

I'd love to meet all the authors here in person. Talk about a great girls night out! Join me and let's go see what's on their page 25!

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