Chapter 3: All My Days Are Saturdays

Posted on October 3, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

Welcome to my Second Acts Series!

Today, we have Barb Taub inspiring and entertaining us with her version of HEA (Happily-Ever-After), or more precisely HFN (Happily-For-Now), and a Second Act (Chapter 3) jam-packed with Saturdays.

Here’s Barb!

Once Upon a Time

Chapter 1

A girl met her prince. He was tall, dark, and handsome. (Actually, he was a Republican. But he was definitely tall.) They fell in love, and got married.

Chapter 2

He brought her to his (rented) castle and they lived happily ever after.

Okay, so thirty years of life happened between Chapters 1 and 2. They included:

MONTHS	SPENT:
36	Pregnant
96	Changing diapers
192	Getting offspring into or out of carseats
180	Driving to Sunday School
48 bazillion	Driving practice with teenage drivers. (Note: this item is multiplied by Parental-Terror units, which include the number of times your life flashes before your eyes…)
135 down, 9 to go	College tuition
396	Thinking up something to have for dinner
384	Being bossy. In charge. ~~The Boss.~~ Mom.
0	Playing with my grandchildren (but I’m not bitter. Much…)
All of them	Telling lies. Making stuff up Writing

In the romance-writing biz, we aim for the HEA (Happily-Ever-After), or—if we’re milking it for series potential—at least a HFN, or Happily-For-Now. (No, it doesn’t mean Hell, eFfing No…).

***

So it turns out that my Chapter 2 was a HFN, and I moved both into a castle in the north of England, and straight into Chapter 3.

Several years ago, we actually moved to the island, although it’s a bit bigger than I expected. We lived in one tower of a medieval castle in England.

YES. (And the beauty of this ensemble is that it's also what you'll wear to bed.)

What to really wear in a castle. And the beauty of this ensemble is that it’s also what you’ll wear to bed. Most of it at once.

I was living the dream. And apparently, the dream was really, really cold. The main thing to remember about living in a 1000+ year old pile of stone is that the builders were a lot more concerned with discouraging visits from Vikings and Scots than with heat and er… sanitation. But thanks to the sympathetic current owners of the castle, a new kitchen and bathroom took us past the original builders’ idea of facilities (which, from what I saw down in the surviving medieval rooms, pretty much involved a piece of stone with a hole in the middle). I learned what to wear. How to speak British. And best of all, what to do with my Saturdays.

As a favor to those who might be considering castle life, I invite you on a (virtual) visit. When you come, here is our typical day:

0’dark:30—the dog leaps straight from her bed to mine (or yours if the castle ghost, the White Lady, has popped in to open your door. Yes, the same door you carefully closed, locked, and probably secured with a chair under the knob. Ghosts don’t get out much, so their sense of humor is somewhat stunted…) The dog shares the breaking news. “It’s time. I hafta. Go NOW! Up, up, up. What part of pee-now do you people not get? And by the way, as long as you’re up, I wouldn’t turn down a bowl of kibble.”

One of the good things about sleeping with so many clothes on is that you just have to grab the keys, leash, and the glory that is your pair of British Wellies. Although there is no actual network signal around the castle, you should bring your phone so you can use its flashlight app to find the steaming pile the dog refuses to produce until she’s sniffed every single damn blade of grass in the meadow and churchyard surrounding the castle because, of course, this is the north of England which won’t see actual dawn for about four more hours. (Hey, I don’t want to hear your opinion of run-on sentences. It’s friggin early and we haven’t even had coffee.) Where was I? Oh, yeah. We stagger back to our tower and the exhausted dog collapses in one of the beds she keeps in every room. Tough morning; she needs a nap.

As we make the (industrial-strength) coffee, you sit in the kitchen and realize you can see your breaths.

I love you Mr. Milkman

When the coffee is ready, my brain thaws enough to remember that we went blindly past the milk that Mr. Milkman left at the portcullis, and we have a stare-down to see who will cave and go back down for the milk: the polite guest (you) or the polite hostess (ha, ha, ha, you’re funny, you are). BTW, I’ve never met him, and I really hope Mrs. Milkman doesn’t mind, but I’m in love with Mr. Milkman. He slips in even before the dog gets up, leaving adorable little bottles of organic milk, plus eggs, and rolls of butter wrapped in brown paper. We communicate via notes twisted up and poked into empty bottles I leave for him at the gate. It’s one of my all-time purest, most satisfying relationships.

My gorgeous French Émigré with the heart of darkness…

Coffee in hand, it’s time for you to witness the other significant relationship in my castle life. I’m not going to say who is dom and who is sub, but I spend a disturbing amount of my time on my knees in front of my sophisticated, elegant French partner, blowing until he’s burning hot (yes, I did write that…) and then returning every few hours to fulfill his needs again. Sometimes, even though I think I’m doing everything right, he knows I need to be punished and he vents his wrath in black oily smoke pouring back into the flat. This sets off the castle fire alarm system, which means I have only minutes to (grab keys/wellies/dog) race down the circular stairs, through the basement, up the other stairs, down the main hall, and over to the fire system in time to call off the emergency vehicles about to be dispatched. That system is clearly in cahoots with the angry Frenchie up in my living room, so I have to stand there for a few hours repeatedly pressing the “clear” button until they reluctantly agree to shut the f-up.

If it’s Wednesday, it’s Village Coffee, as I discovered my first day as a castle resident. I emerged to walk the dog, still wearing what I’d worn to bed (basically, almost every item of clothing I owned as explained above). I was immediately identified as fresh blood, captured, and marched over to coffee morning in the Victorian-era Village Hall. There may be some places where village coffee morning is a casual event. I just don’t think those places are in England. Certainly not in our village, where the weekly caffeination is the place for the major decisions, changes, and explanations of village life to be enacted over coffee and perhaps a few raffle ticket sales.

Village Coffee is also where I learned to speak British. For example, at coffee morning, I described my reaction to finding the side of my car bashed in. “I was so pissed,” I confessed. “And as the day went on, I just got more and more pissed off. In fact, by that night, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been that totally pissed.” There was a collective silence you could have cut with a knife. Finally one of my friends asked if I knew that pissed means drunk. All nodded sagely, and the discussion turned to the shame one felt to run out of homemade jam and have to serve (her voice lowered) jam from a shop.

What does all this have to do with a second act? Before the Castle, what little writing time I had was sandwiched into weekends, along with everything else that went with an executive career, four kids, a house, and American life. But after we moved to England—thanks to Her Majesty’s government and their very kind refusal to allow me a work permit—all my days are Saturdays. Those Saturdays multiplied until the story my daughter and I had tossed around as an idea became chapters and then a series of books.

We’ve recently moved from the Castle to our Hobbit House, a Victorian cottage with a secret garden surrounded by tall stone walls in the heart of Glasgow. My days are still all Saturdays, and the next two books in my Null City series, an anthology and Book 3, are due out early next year.

Barb’s Books

Null City Series: Superpowers suck. If you just want to live a normal life, Null City is only a Metro ride away. After one day there, imps become baristas, and hellhounds become poodles. Demons settle down, become parents, join the PTA, and worry about their taxes. But Gaby, Connor, and Carey—the three Parker siblings charged with protecting Null City—are still missing. And outside of Null City, now that the century-long secret Nonwars between Gifts and Haven are over and the Accords Treaty is signed, an uneasy peace is policed by Wardens under the command of the Accords Agency.

One Way Fare: Null City is the only sanctuary for Gaby Parker and Leila Rice, two young women confronting cataclysmic forces waging an unseen war between Heaven and Hell. Gaby and her younger brother and sister are already targets in the war that cost their parents’ lives. Meanwhile, Leila has inherited a French chateau, a mysterious legacy, and a prophecy that she will end the world. Gaby and Leila become catalysts for the founding and survival of Null City. It just would have been nice if someone told them the angels were all on the other side.

Don’t Touch: Hope flares each morning in the tiny flash of a second before Lette touches that first thing. And destroys it. Her online journal spans a decade, beginning with the day a thirteen-year-old inherits an extreme form of the family “gift.” Every day whatever she touches converts into something new: bunnies, bubbles, bombs, and everything in between. Lette’s search for a cure leads her to Stefan, whose fairy-tale looks hide a monstrous legacy, and to Rag, an arrogant, crabby ex-angel with boundary issues. The three face an army led by a monster who feeds on children’s fear. But it’s their own inner demons they must defeat first.

We’re All Human. Even When We’re Not (Anthology, Available late 2014) She’s a young witch whose goddess is house cat of unusual size. He’s a Warden policing a delicate truce between those who are human and those who… aren’t.

Round Trip Fare (Available early 2015) Carey Parker knows superpowers suck. From childhood she’s had two choices—master her warrior gift, or take the Metro train to Null City and a normal life. There are just a couple of problems with that. Her brother and sister have disappeared. The leader of the angels trying to destroy Null City might just be the one person she loves most in the world. And her new partner’s gift lets him predict deaths. Hers.

Bio

In a former life, Barb Taub wrote a humor column for several Midwest newspapers. Now that her days are all Saturdays, she’s lived with her prince-of-a-guy and the world’s most spoiled Aussie Dog in a medieval English castle and a Victorian Scottish cottage. She enjoys translating from British to American, and collaborating with daughter Hannah on the Null City series.

Where to find Barb…

Website | Amazon | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Joanne here!

Barb, thank you for sharing your adventures and your take on HEA and HFN. I could easily visualize your days in the castle and would love to hear more about the Hobbit House. The Null City series sounds intriguing. I’ve put both books on my TBR list.

When Change Means Survival

Posted on October 1, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

Welcome to my Second Acts Series!

Today, we have a different kind of second act. A character in Soul Mate author Linda Bennett Pennell’s novel, Confederado do Norte, is sharing her reinvention story.

Here’s Mary Catherine!

Set during the aftermath of the American Civil War, Confederado do Norte tells the story of Mary Catherine MacDonald Dias Oliveira Atwell, a child torn from her war devastated home in Georgia and thrust into the primitive Brazilian interior where the young woman she becomes must learn to recreate herself in order to survive.

Mary Catherine’s first recreation began when she was just a child of 10. Here is a mature Mary Catherine sharing that first recreation in her own words.

My story began at the end of a long war in which many lives and much property were destroyed. After all these years, I can still smell the acrid smoke coming off the ash heap that was the farmhouse where my parents and I once lived. It is as though no time at all has passed since Sherman’s March to the Sea. The only thing that Mama, my beloved nurse Bess, and I could do was watch from our hiding place and wish that Papa wasn’t so far away fighting.

When Papa finally found his way home from the war, it was as a changed man – bitter, lost, and given to unpredictable rages followed by deep melancholia. Even so, we were happy to have him home because we believed he would one day return to himself. If it hadn’t been for a newspaper article and a handful of advertisements my life would have turned out quite differently. As it was, it took little to convince Papa that leaving home was the only solution left to defeated Southerners. Emperor Dom Pedro II’s promise of free land in Brazil’s heartland and subsidized passage sealed our fate.

Shortly after we immigrated, my mother died of galloping consumption, leaving me in the care of my father and my mother’s only surviving brother, Nathan. Papa’s mercurial nature coupled with Nathan’s hatred of me left me uncertain and confused. You see, Nathan blamed me for my mother’s death. The fear that he might be right haunted me, but when I learned Nathan was demanding I be returned to family in Georgia, I became determined to do everything possible to prevent it. I had already lost Mama. I couldn’t bear being separated from Papa as well. At the age of ten, I became a self-taught housekeeper – cooking, cleaning, washing the clothes, tending the vegetable garden, preserving food – nothing was beyond my scope.

By age twelve I decided to pile my long auburn hair up on my head as I had once seen Mama do. It was safer and cooler when I did the housework. Nathan said I was too young to flounce around like a grown woman, but Papa said I did the work of two women so to leave me alone. It came as a shock when I realized that I really didn’t feel like a girl anymore. Somewhere between lifting wet clothes out of the wash pot and cooking on the wood fired stove, I had made the transition from little girl to young woman. Somehow all that I had experienced made that little girl seem like a stranger, as though I were a different person completely. Before I was twenty-one, I would recreate myself two more times because my life and freedom would depend on it.

Bio

I have been in love with the past for as long as I can remember. Anything with a history, whether shabby or majestic, recent or ancient, instantly draws me in. I suppose it comes from being part of a large extended family that spanned several generations. Long summer afternoons on my grandmother’s porch or winter evenings gathered around her fireplace were filled with stories both entertaining and poignant. Of course being set in the American South, those stories were also peopled by some very interesting characters, some of whom have found their way into my work.

As for my venture in writing, it has allowed me to reinvent myself. We humans are truly multifaceted creatures, but unfortunately we tend to sort and categorize each other into neat, easily understood packages that rarely reveal the whole person. Perhaps you, too, want to step out of the box in which you find yourself. I encourage you to look at the possibilities and imagine. Be filled with childlike wonder in your mental wanderings. Envision what might be, not simply what is. Let us never forget, all good fiction begins when someone says to her or himself, “Let’s pretend.”

I reside in the Houston area with one sweet husband and one adorable German Shorthaired Pointer who is quite certain she’s a little girl.

Favorite quote regarding my professional passion: “History is filled with the sound of silken slippers going downstairs and wooden shoes coming up.” Voltaire

Where to find Linda Pennell…

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon

Joanne here!

Linda, thanks for giving us insight in Mary Catherine’s early life. I’m putting Confederado do Norte on my TBR list.

Living Life Without Regrets

Posted on September 26, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

Welcome to my Second Acts Series!

Today, we have Patti Pokorchak sharing the adventures of her multi-layered life.

Here’s Patti!

First Act

Patti at her IBM Graduation[/caption]Until I was 25, I was a pretty normal but driven kid. I skipped Grade 4, graduated with a computer-programming diploma from Ryerson Polytechnic Institute (college) and started working at IBM when I was still a teenager. Having vowed to never go to university, I returned to Ryerson to get not one but two degrees. My first never say never episode. Returned to IBM where I proceeded to make too much money at a young age.

Patti at her IBM Graduation

What triggered the need for change?

The fear of regret was the impetus to leave everything behind including a promising career, boyfriend, and lifestyle that was supposedly everything most people would ever want. But, I was neither happy nor content. Having spent six weeks in Europe between my two degrees, I had vowed to return for a longer period of time. I had saved $20,000, so money was not the issue. It was not waiting around for someone else to come with me. Time to act or regret it for the rest of my life!

Second Act

After my year of travel, I didn’t want to go home, back to all that was so familiar to me. I found a job and place to live in Munich where I had an established base of friends that I had made. My German was pretty basic, but my IBM training was a great foundation. My MBA was not recognized at that time in Germany but my tech background was attractive to startups. Being a foreign female in the technology world had its challenges AND perks. I rapidly made a name for myself, got headhunted for my second job by the American President because my English was so poor (yes, it is my mother tongue but I had so integrated myself into the German language, that my English was rusty).

After four years of working at three start-ups in Germany, it was time to leave, as I had had to change my personality in order to succeed in business in Germany. Life’s too short to do that for long. Plus I had a British boyfriend who lived in Geneva and I loved the British sense of humour as well as their more open and equitable business culture.

With a few months as a ‘homeless’ person (British car, German driver’s license and Canadian passport but officially did not live anywhere), by the time my UK work permit came through, I was ready to be laid off again. Technology – gotta love it. My second company proved to have more staying power and I finally returned to help start their Canadian operation, based in Ottawa.

Third Act

After trying another large tech company for a horrible seven months, in 1992, I finally said enough and started the first of several businesses. I helped start and run a software company for 10 years before moving to the country and opening up a garden center and hobby farm (Act 4?).

Patti on the farm

Where are you now?

Back in Toronto, my hometown after my 30-year detour, I’m now the Small Biz Sales Coach — my final business (I swear it is!). After 35 years of selling and starting from being a geeky shy insecure introvert, I know what it’s like to be scared of selling and eventually learning how to have fun with it. I love helping others get over the fear of sales and asking for more money!

To have fun and make money is the only way to live!

Do you have advice for anyone planning to pursue a second act?

Imagine yourself at age 95 – what would you regret not having done? Those are your dreams of today.

Remember you’ll regret NOT having done something when you’re older and no longer able to do whatever that is.

Just do it!

Coming Soon

My Book – The Reinvention Rebel – Live Life Without Regrets!

Make your passion profitable with my proven practical advice!

Where to find Patti…

Website: http://SmallBizSalesCoach.ca

Telephone: 416-951-3842

Email: Patti@SmallBizSalesCoach.ca

Joanne here!

Patti, thank you for sharing your adventures. You are definitely a poster child for reinvention. I look forward to the release of The Reinvention Rebel.

Spotlight on Erin Bevan

Posted on September 24, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

I am happy to spotlight Erin Bevan and her debut novel, The Ranch Hand. Sit back and enjoy Erin’s delightful account of a writing journey that spanned two continents.

Here’s Erin!

I honestly still don’t feel like a real writer. I read all these blog posts from big name authors and they talk about how they spend hours upon hours a day writing because it’s their job and they knew it was their calling since they were a kid. That, my friends, was not me!

I starting writing about three years ago. Growing up, I hated to read. Loathed it, and writing, no way. When I was 25 I moved to South Korea with my husband and four month old baby girl. Living in a small town in South Korea, there wasn’t a large expat community, and hardly anyone in the town I lived in spoke English. My husband worked most days 12-14 hours, so I spent much of the time by myself with my daughter without the creature comforts of a car, a cellphone, a job, or friends. We had a television, but only two or three channels had English shows, and Netflix doesn’t work if you are outside of the US. What was a girl to do?

I started reading. Reading a lot. Then, one day, I got this bright idea I could write a book, so I did. I’ll be honest, it wasn’t very good! But, I learned that I loved writing and honestly, doing so saved me. Writing took my mind away from being lonely or feeling isolated. Within my stories (all of course in my head) I had tons of friends, hero’s, and enemies. I would walk around the apartment complex we lived in and think of scenes in my mind and my characters would start speaking to me. I guess that tells you I have voices in my head that talk to me.

Over the course of these past three years, I’ve learned a lot, about me and what type of writer I want to be, even what type of person I want to be. I joined writers groups and learned about submission calls for anthologies. In fact, that’s where the idea for The Ranch Hand came from. I read about a call for cowboy romance stories. I threw something together and submitted my story, only to be rejected. I decided since I wrote the story, I might as well try to submit it to other places, so after some revising, that’s what I did.

In December of 2013, I was so fed up with being rejected and told my work wasn’t good enough, that I had started to lose faith. The Ranch Hand was still out with one more publishing house for review. I had told myself that if this story get’s rejected again by this last editor then I was hanging up my hat as a writer. When I received the email from my editor, I almost deleted it. The first two paragraphs were nice ways of saying I sucked. My finger hovered over the delete button until I say the large “BUT” in chapter three. Chapters three and four told me that if I was willing to put in the work to make The Ranch Hand something better than what it was in it’s present state, then this editor was willing to work with me and she extended me a contract.

What a wonderful Christmas present that was!

I try to spend as much time as I can writing, but sometimes that only happens once a week. First, I’m a mother and wife. I suppose that’s why I don’t feel like a “real writer” because I sprinkle it in between the laundry, the dishes and dirty diapers. My life isn’t glamorous, but it’s a good one, and I’m so thankful I have found something that I love to do and that I didn’t give up.

Blurb

Jason Haverty is looking forward to the fall horse drive, until his boss and uncle informs him one of the new cowboys coming in to help will be riding his favorite horse. His annoyance is furthered when the cowboy turns out to be a cowgirl—a quick-witted and confident blonde beauty. Trying to avoid her doesn’t work. The more time he spends with her, the more an unexpected protectiveness toward her grows.

Bobby Jo’s Texas upbringing taught her to give just as good as she gets, a quality Jason finds frustrating and all the more endearing in this Southern Belle. When an accident on the trail places her in possible danger, Jason realizes she means more to him than he thought. The question is, does she feel the same?

Bio

Erin Bevan is a wife and mother of three. An avid reader, one day she decide to try her luck in writing stories of her own, and the idea paid off. She spends her days deep in the heart of Texas, fighting mosquitoes, cleaning dirty faces, and writing when the kids nap. If it’s a really good day, she even finds time to brush her hair.

Where to find Erin…

Website | Amazon | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Happy Release Day!

Happy Autumn!

Posted on September 23, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

Whenever I look out at Nature’s breathtaking fall palette, I am inspired and invigorated to start anew. Anything and everything is possible during the cool, crisp days of autumn.

Some of my favorite quotations…

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. George Eliot

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face. John Donne

Autumn, the year’s last loveliest smile. William Cullen Bryant

Autumn, the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits. Samuel Butler

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn. Emily Dickinson

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all. Stanley Horowitz

Autumn asks that we prepare for the future—that we be wise in the ways of garnering and keeping. But it also asks that we learn to let go—to acknowledge the beauty of sparseness. Bonaro W. Overstreet

I’ve never known anyone yet who doesn’t suffer a certain restlessness when autumn rolls around…We’re all eight years old and anything is possible. Sue Grafton

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. Albert Camus

Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit still and watch the leaves turn. Elizabeth Lawrence

Spotlight on A Pretty Penny

Posted on September 19, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

I’m thrilled to spotlight Neva Brown’s second novel…

Blurb

Wealthy, arrogant Clayton Brandt knows well the costs of a woman. Not until Penelope (Penny) Jones comes into his life does he know the value of a woman.

Anger at Clayton, her new boss, causes Penny to snap out of the lethargy she’s experienced after seeing her husband killed. She puts to use all her innate abilities, learned skills, and intuitiveness to cope with the overbearing Clayton and the women in his life. Penny, in time, knows she loves him, but will not become one of his women—not on his terms.

On her terms, they marry only to be parted by federal agents before they leave their wedding reception. The ensuing intrigue, danger, and antics of Clayton’s ex-wife play a part in Penny being in eminent peril. Even after their love survives all this, it is once again threatened by a letter from a vindictive woman who is dead. The letter devastates Clayton and crushes his hopes for happiness.

How Clayton and Penny find their happy-ever-after is a breath-holding adventure at times and a breathtaking love story at other times.

Excerpt

Awestruck and wondering how a rodeo producer managed to have such a grandiose personal jet, Penny jumped in surprise at the clipped, commanding voice behind her. She turned and focused on the imposing man who extended a lean, hard hand for her to shake as he towered over her.

“I presume you’re Wilma’s little friend.”

His emphasis on “little” implied so much more than the fact that she was only five foot two, one hundred five pounds. She stiffened.

“I’m Penelope Ann Jones. And, yes, Wilma and I are friends.”

“I’m Clayton Brandt, your boss.” His icy stare chilled her from head to toe.

“Are you another of her projects, or can you do a day’s work for a day’s pay?”

Her haughtiness probably added to his irritation, but she wasn’t about to cower before this arrogant tyrant.

Stretching her neatly clad body and raising her eyes from his chest to his cold, gray eyes, she answered with an indifferent tone.

“I can do the work Wilma said would be expected of me, sir.”

She bit her tongue to keep from adding that she had a master’s degree in finance, held a CPA license, and had worked as a secretary all the way through college. Just because she had been following the rodeo did not make her incapable, just besotted with love.

He curtly dismissed her. “Get buckled up. The pilot is ready to take off.”

***

His woodsy scent and the feel of his hand still lingered in her memory. From her luxurious lounger, she continued to watch. He frowned at Wilma. His words became clear enough for Penny to hear.

“I thought we got through your ‘mother hen’ phase a few years back. Where did you find this one?”

Wilma’s longsuffering look made Penny strain to hear the reply.

“The ‘mother hen’ periods as you call them passed a long time ago. Penny is different. She was Jason’s wife, but none of our family even knew they were married. They’d been married almost a year when that bull killed him.”

“Then she’s a rich young widow. Why does she need to work?”

“Things aren’t quite what they seem. Jason never got around to changing his will and never had her sign a signature card to draw on his account at the bank. Being his usual distracted self, he just gave her cash. She had money but no permanent financial security.”

“So I guess you’re paying her bills. No wonder you want to put her to work.”

“Clayton, she was my baby brother’s wife and was ‘holed up’ in that fifth wheel at a trailer park with nothing but crackers and peanut butter. She’s smart and willing to work. You know I wouldn’t ask you to hire her if I didn’t believe she could do the job.”

He scowled at Wilma as she added, “I’d bet six month’s wages she’ll do a good job.”

“You may not have six month’s wages if she messes up. I don’t suffer fools and lazy people, as you well know. Right now, she looks like both to me,” he growled.

Penny let her eyelids shut completely at the hostile sound of his voice. A surge of adrenaline made her ears ring and her muscles twitch. Her anger churned, and her thoughts raced. Just who does this aging Adonis with a Neanderthal attitude think he is? Wilma thinks he hung the moon, and he acts like she is just some inconsequential employee when, in reality, she shields him from all kinds of thorny situations every day. She’s always telling me about the mountain of work she does to smooth the way for him. What an insufferable man!

Bio

Neva Brown, a retired secondary teacher/administrator, now enjoys the challenge of writing romance novels and doing editing for other romance writers.

Neva spent most of her life on West Texas ranches and uses that culture and environment in many of her stories. She and her husband now live at Rio Concho West in San Angelo, Texas. They enjoy visits from their two sons and their families, are always delighted to hear from old friends, and are amazed at how well they have adjusted to ‘city’ living.

Where to find Neva…

Website | Amazon |Facebook | Twitter | Google+

Neva loves to hear from her readers. She can be reached at joneva@suddenlink.net

Your Time to Shine

Posted on September 17, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

Welcome to my Second Acts Series!

Today, we have Soul Mate Author Gay Yellen sharing her extraordinary journey from high school Economics class to literary publication via Hollywood.

Here’s Gay!

Thanks, Joanne, for inviting me to share my Second Act, though my journey feels more like a full-on odyssey. But I’ll try to keep it to two.

First Act: I’ve always written. Dr. Seuss was an early influence, and I still write silly verse for fun. In high school I wrote my best poetry in Economics class, to the chagrin of my teacher. But my writing career didn’t begin until after I got Hollywood out of my system.

The need for change: Performing came naturally to me. After college I moved to L.A. and began an acting career. While I managed to get film and TV work, I hated the life (yes, it’s as tough as the stories you hear).

First Act, Part 2: I decided to apply to the Director’s Guild, which led to a job behind the camera as the Assistant to the Director of Production at The American Film Institute. I worked with thesis film students on their productions, helped cast actors, secure and manage location shooting, arrange with major studios to use their back lots for filming, their props, costumes, etc., and facilitated editing and post-production.

The need for change: I loved working at AFI, but the pay was meager.

Second Act, Part 1: A friend heard that a magazine needed a last-minute substitute to cover a story over the weekend. I jumped at it, even though I didn’t know a thing about the subject, or about magazines, for that matter. After I turned in the article, the magazine offered me an editing position. It paid much more than the AFI job, so I took it. In a couple of years, I moved to another magazine, where a series I wrote won a national journalism award.

Second Act, Part 2: A book! I helped write an international thriller, Five Minutes to Midnight, which was my first taste of book publishing. Soon after, I fell in love, married, and thought I was finally free to try my hand at a solo novel.

Second Act, Part 3: I’d just completed the first draft of The Body Business when my husband asked me for help with the advertising for his new national marketing firm. “Can you come up to the office this afternoon and tell me why my ads in The Wall Street Journal aren’t working?” he pleaded. “You’ve been in magazines, so you know about advertising.”

I tried to explain that editors don’t normally deal with the ad department, but he was my husband, so I went. Fifteen years later, after creating countless marketing pieces, ads, and even investment prospectuses, we sold the company, and I retired as its V.P. of client and media communications, and advertising.

Second Act, Part 4: Finally, I was free to do my own work. I dusted off the old rough draft of my book and discovered that it had become a period piece, with pay phones, typewriters and snail mail playing pivotal roles in the action. I updated it to the 21st Century, put it through a critique circle and found Soul Mate Publishing. The Body Business was published in 2014.

Where are you now?

I’m working furiously on the sequel to The Body Business, and there are other projects in queue. I’m happy to finally affirm that writing is no longer my first, second or tenth act. It’s what I do.

Affirmation

Work to be as good as you can at what you do, and believe that your time to shine will come.

Blurb

A great career. Fantastic boyfriend. Samantha Newman has it all, until her best friend vanishes, and doubt creeps in. Forced to choose between the success she’s worked hard to achieve and the hidden truth behind it, she risks everything and discovers a dark secret that could destroy her life forever.

Where to find Gay…

Website | Amazon | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Joanne here!

What a whirlwind! If you ever run out of ideas for novels, consider writing your memoirs. Thank you for an entertaining and inspiring post.

Life is for Living

Posted on September 12, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

Welcome to my Second Acts Series!

Today, we have author and Acquisitions Editor Katie Hamstead chatting about a very early second act.

Here’s Katie!

Briefly describe your early acts.

Early acts… Well, I feel like I’m still fairly early in life since I’m 27. So I guess my acts consist of school, post high school to marriage, then married life. High school days were tough, but fun. I had the bullying and isolation going on, but to be honest, I’m kind of glad I went through all of that. Not that I enjoyed it, but the bullying made me stronger, and the isolation made me understand what real friends are and the qualities in people I enjoy associating with and that uplift and strengthen me. But high school was fun, in that I could explore my talents and hobbies. Along with writing stories on scrap notebook pages, I loved singing and sports, which I don’t get much chance to do either of any more. I miss playing and performing terribly.

After high school, I kind of went into “party” mode. Finally I was free. I did a stint as an exchange student (BEST choice I ever made, I highly recommend it to anyone who has a chance) I got a job, I traveled, I moved around, I sought out higher education, and I made friends with people who really helped boost my confidence and let the real me shine out. My years from 18-22 were a blast, even though there were moments of pain and grief unlike any other period before. But with all negative experiences, I try to glean lessons from them, to help me grow.

I married at 22, so have been married for just over 5 years. When I married, I migrated to the USA from Australia. I’m an Aussie, born and raised! And my hubby is a Native American (Navajo). This act eventually led me to my writing when I a) wasn’t allowed to work due to visa restrictions and b) got pregnant right when my restrictions got lifted, so no one wanted to employ me. As a result, I found myself with lots of time on my hands, so one thing led to another and I picked up my writing again.

What triggered the need for change?

It my last act, boredom mostly. I needed something to fill the time while my hubby was at work. I’d grown tired of being homesick, so wanted to get productive. Actually, that’s kind of what triggers most of my changes. I get bored with what I’m doing with my life. That’s pretty honest, right?

Where are you now?

Now I’m in a pretty good place. I love writing, acquiring for CQ and being a wife and mother… although I am getting restless. I think we need to move or do something to shake things up a bit.

Do you have advice for anyone planning to pursue a second act?

Go ahead! Life is for living, pursuing your dreams, and growing. Why just exist? Make your life worth every breath you take.

Blurb

Terrorists have invaded Sydney, and Allison King barely escapes her brother’s wedding reception alive. She and her siblings flee, but their parents are killed by firing squad.

Now Ali’s on the run and terrified. While searching for other survivors, she is captured by the General who leads the invasion. He’s smitten by Ali, and when she refuses to submit to his whims, he brands her for death. In a wild act of defiance, she snatches the branding rod and sears the mark onto his face. Marking not only him but also sealing her fate. Ali manages to escape and flees into the bush once more where she finds a group in hiding. Even with the scars left by the General, Ali learns to love and falls in love with the young man who found her—Damien Rogers.

But the General is hunting her. When he discovers their location, and finds her with another man—Damien—his wrath is kindled and his obsession is inflamed. Ali must put herself on the line or the General could kill her family, those who help her, and most significantly, the man she loves.

Bio

Born and raised in Australia, Katie’s early years of day dreaming in the “bush”, and having her father tell her wild bedtime stories, inspired her passion for writing.

After graduating High School, she became a foreign exchange student where she met a young man who several years later she married. Now she lives in Arizona with her husband, daughter and their dog.

She has a diploma in travel and tourism which helps inspire her writing. She currently works as an Acquisitions Editor with Curiosity Quills Press to help support her family.

Katie loves to out sing her friends and family, play sports and be a good wife and mother. She loves to write, and takes the few spare moments in her day to work on her novels.

Where to find Katie…

Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Joanne here!

I am impressed by your can-do attitude and ability to deal with boredom. Thank you for sharing your journey and best of luck with all your literary endeavors.

What’s In a Name?

Posted on September 10, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

The topic of pseudonyms came up on a discussion board. Several writers expressed an interest in using pen names and wanted more information about the legalities involved.

I was surprised to see so much interest in the topic. I had always associated pseudonyms with female writers such as Mary Anne Evans/George Eliot, who used a male name to ensure that her work would be accepted by publishers and the public.

While researching the topic, I discovered many more reasons for using pen names.

Authors who regularly write in more than one genre use different pen names. Romance writer Nora Roberts writes erotic thrillers under the pen name J.D. Robb.

A pen name may be used if the author believes that his/her name does not suit the genre. Western novelist Pearl Gray dropped his first name and changed the spelling of his last name to become Zane Grey.

In some countries, authors use pen names to write about controversial topics that could be politically unsafe.

Writers of romance novels are often advised to use pen names to protect themselves against stalkers.

In the past, prolific authors were asked to use pen names to prevent flooding the market with too many books in one year. Stephen King published four novels under the pseudonym Richard Bachman. After critics pointed out style similarities, the books were reprinted with Stephen King’s name. One of his books, Thinner, sold twenty times more copies after the changes were made.

Some writers wish to keep their writing career separate from their everyday life. Comic book writer Stan Lee was born Stanley Lieber. He used the pen name Stan Lee because he intended to save his real name for more serious literature. His career as a novelist never materialized so he changed his name legally to Stan Lee.

A collective name or house name is used with series fiction such as the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Bobbsey Twins series. The first book in each series was written by one writer, but subsequent books were written by ghost writers.

Collaborative authors like to have their books published under one name. Alice Alfonsi and Marc Cerasini write their Coffeehouse Mystery series using the pseudonym Cleo Coyle.

Last year, J.K. Rowling was outed as the author of Cuckoo’s Calling, which she published under the pen name Robert Gailbraith. In an interview, she commented: “”I was yearning to go back to the beginning of a writing career in this new genre to work without hype or expectation to receive totally unvarnished feedback. It was a fantastic experience and I only wish it could have gone on a little longer.”

Regarding the legalities…

You don’t have to file any forms or hire a lawyer. Simply put the phrase “writing as” on your manuscript and let the publisher know your real name to ensure that you receive payment for your work.

Any other interesting pseudonym stories out there?

Oprah and Paulo Coelho

Posted on September 8, 2014 by Joanne Guidoccio

Yesterday, Oprah welcomed bestselling author Paulo Coelho to Super Soul Sunday. Paulo is celebrating the 25th anniversary of a true phenomenon: The Alchemist. Since publication, this magical allegory about an Andalusian shepherd boy named Santiago who travels from Spain to Egypt in search of treasure has broken all records. Over 65 million copies have been sold and it is the most translated book in history.

I was fascinated by Paulo’s early history and the near-death of The Alchemist.

Born into a middle- class family in Rio de Janeiro, he was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps and become an engineer. When Paulo rebelled, his parents bribed him and, when that failed, they committed him to a mental institution from which he escaped three times before being released at the age of 20. Paulo made it clear that his parents truly loved him but were not comfortable with the idea of a son following a creative path.

Originally, Paulo launched The Alchemist through a small Brazilian publishing house. Initial sales were dismal and the publisher decided not to reprint. Passionate and committed to its success, Paulo found a larger publishing house and from there the book took off. Both Oprah and Paulo stressed the book reached the critical masses because of famous (Bill Clinton, Madonna, Will Smith) and more importantly, anonymous readers.

Throughout the telecast, Paulo shared wonderful observations and insights.

We all have a personal legend. And the key behind that legend is enthusiasm. We need to ask ourselves what gives us enthusiasm, keeping in mind that we betray our personal legend whenever we do something without enthusiasm.

We become fluent in the language of the world by daring, and we learn this language by paying attention and making mistakes. Omens and signs are everywhere. We need to look at everything as if we are seeing it for the first time.

Paulo believes that God will ask: “Did you love enough?” Here, Paulo is not referring to romantic love but whether we are able to open our hearts to embrace every grain of sand.

Quotable Quotes

Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure.

The heart is like a flower. It can be very brave or easily hurt.

Always listen to your heart, even when it scares you.

Before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve moved toward that dream. That’s the point at which most people give up. It’s the point at which, as we say in the language of the desert, one “dies of thirst just when the palm trees have appeared on the horizon.”

When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you get it.