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I'M MOVING~
Today's post is just a quick note (like the White Rabbit--hurry, hurry) to say that this is the LAST POST here on "OverBoard." Though two of my Darcy Cavanaugh mysteries remain on the shelves (and online), I'll be concentrating on my new medical drama series for Tyndale House Publishing, with a first book deadline of August 1st.
Please pop on over to my new Blogger journal, RX: Charisma, and read all about this new series. It's going to be a grand new adventure and I'm hoping you'll climb onboard.
Happy sailing to you, always!
Love,
Candy
NEWS & NEW PATH ~ Okay, it's been 5 whole days and I'm going crazy keeping the news quiet . . . and from pinching myself over and over.
So, Psssst: I've been offered a NEW CONTRACT, for a BRAND NEW publishing path, and I'm REALLY excited about it! (Eyes glittering here):
I'm going to be writing a three-book inspirational romance series for a large Christian publishing house--something I've dreamed about since my words first appeared in print.
You'll recall, from my website bio, this first work was an inspirational essay chosen as one of the 101 stories in Chicken Soup for the Nurse's Soul, and I've felt a strong pull toward that genre ever since. In fact, I was writing an inspirational manuscript when--out of the blue--"Port Mortem" (as Dressed to Keel was once known) garnered unexpected interest by the chicklit market. Then before I knew it, I was setting sail as a mystery author. Loved every minute, of course--hey, my research involved cruising--but after
MAI TAI TO MURDER left port, I was drawn to inspirational writing again. A need to write books that--beyond laughs, adventure and escape--will speak more to the heart. So (covertly) I began to write "The Healer's Heart," a romance set in the fast-paced setting of emergency medicine (think "Grey's Anatomy," "ER," "House"), and envisioned a continuing series set in my native California, from Gold Country to the Pacific coast, to the breathtaking San Francisco skyline. Adventures that offer readers a pulse-punding glimpse into the worlds of medicine and rescue services, and into the relationships, hopes and challenges of those heroic men and women--nurses, doctors, firefighters, law enforcement. There will be action, humor, tears, conflict, and the whole gamut of human emotions--with a positive message of enduring hope. And filled with characters you'll care about, want to follow into each new book . . . . that's this author's hope, anyway!
So, it's been nearly a year that I've been working toward this goal, and my agent is ironing out the details, and I won't be more specific just yet . . . but it's happening, folks!
Stay tuned for details on WHAT, WHERE, WHEN. I promise to keep you informed on the progress of my exciting new publishing path.
Meanwhile, I'm writing, writing, writing . . . working on a new website, putting together a new blog, busy, busy, busy. And happy.
Stay tuned!
Oh, Darcy and Marie? They're here, kicking back in my office, and reminding me that my comic voice will never be squelched . . . promising to dance the limbo on my desk if I get too serious or mushy.
Telling me that-- even though drydocked-- they're here to support me. And wish me godspeed.
That's what good friends are for.
I am in the third week of THE ARTIST’S WAY. This 12-week study, developed a decade ago by author, playwright, actress, and screenwriter Julia Cameron, offers a renewed sense of creativity to “blocked artists.” It is, in a word, THERAPY. Intense, a little strange, as self-indulgent as chocolate (actually, the facilitator brought some), maddening (an assignment to give up reading for a week?! Are you serious?! ), scary, and inspiring all at the same time. The goal: to nurture your Artist Child, fill the creative well, and squelch your Internal Censor. To do all of this, the Artist’s Way uses two basic tools: Morning Pages and Artist's Dates.
Morning Pages are 3-handwritten pages that must be done first thing in the morning, free-flow, unedited, just spewing out random thoughts. You never re-read them; you never let anyone else read them. The purpose of the pages is to clear clutter, get rid of the whiny, petty, angry junk that stands between you and your creativity. This is done every single day, no excuses.
Artist's Dates, on the other hand, are treats you give yourself. A block of time once a week that is set aside basically for play. Just you, alone, doing something you wouldn’t ordinarily do, the sillier the better. Like: make a sandcastle, pet a lizard, buy balloons, go ice-skating, take a belly dancing lesson, go to a toy store, go skydiving, visit an aquarium--you get the picture.
The idea is that the Morning Pages get the inhibiting stuff OUT, and the Artists Dates bring creativity IN. It sounds simple, but I’m finding that it isn’t--especially the Artists Dates.
Being an adult pre-disposes us to taking care of the “should” list at the expense of nurturing our creative selves. Juggling writing deadlines, the day-job, and family commitments drains that creative well right down to bottom. We could be spittin’ sand at any given moment.
I’ve taken myself on two dates so far, simple stuff: I played visitor in my little artsy Texas town; popped into a nature store that I was always too rushed to explore, and bought myself a peacock feather. I’d forgotten how amazing those are. Then I stopped into a bakery and treated myself to a thickly frosted Mardi Gras sugar cookie--which I ate while sitting on a swing in a sunny park. Just me, the cookie, the feather, the swing and the sun. No "shoulds" allowed.
Yesterday’s date took me to a nursery with 11 greenhouses, including: masses of herbs, lemon trees pungent with blossoms, an miniature African Violet hothouse, a cactus Quonset hut, and an orchid room that was staggering in its beauty. When I left, my hands smelled like rosemary and sage, and my senses were on overload.
Next week I’m taking myself to a rodeo arena. Maybe I’ll dust off those old red boots.
How about you--when was the last time to you took yourself on a date?
DARCY'S NEW DUDS~ It's official, we've got a new cover for the digital edition (e-book) of DRESSED TO KEEL. My talented webmistress, Josephine Piraneo at GLASS SLIPPER WEB DESIGN, took my suggested elements (nautical, touch of danger, glitz and fun) and came up with this great image. I love the cocktail with both Darcy's signature paper umbrella, and the new added skull and crossbones swizzle stick--gives the whole thing a trendy Captain Jack Sparrow pirate feel, don't you think? Plus, she added the great sparkly charm bracelet (very hot nowadays) featuring anchors and skulls. Darcy loves sparkle. She gets that from, well . . . moi.
So the next step is to get this cover--and the text for DRESSED TO KEEL--uploaded to the Amazon Kindle Bookstore. So that all those thousands of folks who got a Kindle Reader for Christmas, can download the book. Then we'll offer it as a traditional e-book (coming right to your computer without the necessity of a wireless reader gizmo). That way, all the readers who have just recently discovered the DARCY CAVANAUGH CRUISE MYSTERY SERIES can jump onboard the debut sailing by reading this first book! Don't ya love innovation?
Many thanks to the talented Jo Piraneo, and let's raise a toast (skull swizzle stick and all) to Darcy's new duds!
IMAGE ANGST~ The New Year (though laden with new, exciting possibilities) is not without some intial BUMPS in this wacky road of publication. The photo (or lack thereof) above, is what Amazon uses when there is no cover art to display for a book. Usually, this ghostly apparition is the direct result of copyright and licensing restrictions. It's not that the book didn't once have a cover on it--most authors will recognize the importance of having a cover for their books. Enormous importance. That old "you can't judge a book by its cover" cliche, is ridiculous. Most readers are attracted to a book BECAUSE of its cover. So, losing the rights to a book cover is a sad thing. Why am I bringing this up?
DRESSED TO KEEL is now naked. Because my publisher has decided not to reprint the book and all copies have been sold out of their warehouse, they have (kindly) returned the book rights to me. But not the cover rights, because they don't own them--the (fabulous) artwork is licensed by an independent artist. And, realistically, this author can't afford the purchase price of those rights.
Which wouldn't be a big deal, except that I want to offer DRESSED TO KEEL as an e-book, via Amazon Kindle and other sources. With two other Darcy Cavanaugh mysteries still available in print (Aye Do or Die and Mai Tai to Murder), it makes sense that new readers want to get their hands on the debut book in this series. So now I have an electronic file, ready to upload, but . . . NO COVER. What to do, what to do?
My husband (bless him) came up with the solution--can't believe I didn't think of it myself:
Have my very talented web designer, create a new cover for the DRESSED TO KEEL!
So we're doing that, as we speak. Tossing around ideas, getting a feel for what would be simple, give the "flavor" of the book, and be eye-catching. And affordable, of course.
I'm excited to see what she comes up with. And I'm even more excited about getting DRESSED TO KEEL sailing again, as an e-book.
If you haven't heard about Amazon's new Kindle wireless reading device (with 90, 000 books ready to download at the touch of a finger!), check it out by clicking here.
And stay tuned for the unveiling of Darcy's new book cover.
Jeez, this is kind of like hitting Nordstrom's for that great new outfit.
Happy New Year everyone!!
CREATIVITY~Yes, the holiday wreath in this photo IS made out of cactus. Spineless Prickly Pear Cactus, to be exact. With . . . sort of . . . Red African Pods hanging from a funky raffia bow. Topped with Prickly Pear Fruit Buds, artfully accented with red craft paint. All fastened to a straw frame by florist picks . . . and some leftover wooden shish-kebob skewers from my kitchen junk drawer.
You guessed it: I made the wreath. I CRAFTED it.
Why?
Good question.
The simple answer is that I saw a similar one at the Liberty Bar & Cafe in San Antonio. A century-old establishment skewed at an alarming Pisa-esque angle. Which means that if you set your purse on the floor it could keep on slidin' til it comes to rest under the spurs of that good lookin' cowboy at the end of the bar. The menu, however, is darned-straight fabulous. I had the duck salad.
You guessed it: I made the wreath. I CRAFTED it.
Why?
Good question.
The simple answer is that I saw a similar one at the Liberty Bar & Cafe in San Antonio. A century-old establishment skewed at an alarming Pisa-esque angle. Which means that if you set your purse on the floor it could keep on slidin' til it comes to rest under the spurs of that good lookin' cowboy at the end of the bar. The menu, however, is darned-straight fabulous. I had the duck salad.
Anyway, I saw the wreath (hanging decidedly off-plumb) at the Liberty, and told myself--heck yeah--I could make one. Because:
I had the cactus growing in my back yard.
I had all those wooden shish-kebob thingies gathering dust in my kitchen drawer.
And (most significantly) I had the luxury of TIME.
Because (and here’s the real answer to the question “why”):
I’m between writing contracts.
Mai Tai to Murder has been successfully launched, and I have a new series proposal under serious consideration by several publishing houses. Very exciting. But, still, it’s strange for an author to be in a limbo-land without deadlines. Though I love the heady sense of anticipation and new options (cue the West Side Story showtune, "Something's Coming" . . .) I find that my natural creative juices need to be satisfied. I MUST be CRAFTING something. Anything (obviously). I've always been that way. And over the years, this itchy need has spawned a vast number of strange things: felt fabric mice dressed in Camelot costumes, a gingerbread re-creation of my hospital emergency department (complete with Santa OD'd on brownies) , Edward Scissorhand-like topiaries, cookies shaped into smiling armadillos, that great carrot cake for a quarterhorse's 16th birthday party . . . . okay, I’ll stop before I scare the bejeebers out of you.
I had the cactus growing in my back yard.
I had all those wooden shish-kebob thingies gathering dust in my kitchen drawer.
And (most significantly) I had the luxury of TIME.
Because (and here’s the real answer to the question “why”):
I’m between writing contracts.
Mai Tai to Murder has been successfully launched, and I have a new series proposal under serious consideration by several publishing houses. Very exciting. But, still, it’s strange for an author to be in a limbo-land without deadlines. Though I love the heady sense of anticipation and new options (cue the West Side Story showtune, "Something's Coming" . . .) I find that my natural creative juices need to be satisfied. I MUST be CRAFTING something. Anything (obviously). I've always been that way. And over the years, this itchy need has spawned a vast number of strange things: felt fabric mice dressed in Camelot costumes, a gingerbread re-creation of my hospital emergency department (complete with Santa OD'd on brownies) , Edward Scissorhand-like topiaries, cookies shaped into smiling armadillos, that great carrot cake for a quarterhorse's 16th birthday party . . . . okay, I’ll stop before I scare the bejeebers out of you.
However, my sense is that most writers have always had the drive to create, and long before their crafting involved words there were likely other venues. Paint, clay, wood, feathers, blowtorches and solder, or . . . ?
My curiosity stirred, I posed the question to my fellow Midnight Ink authors and found that we have quite the creative bunch. Click here to see how the InkSpot group responded.
And, oh yeah, is it just me, or do my cactus buds look a LOT like pimento-stuffed green olives?
My curiosity stirred, I posed the question to my fellow Midnight Ink authors and found that we have quite the creative bunch. Click here to see how the InkSpot group responded.
And, oh yeah, is it just me, or do my cactus buds look a LOT like pimento-stuffed green olives?
Ack, I thought so.
I've created a hanging prickly LoneStar Martini.
Well then: Cheers and happy holidays, everyone!
I've created a hanging prickly LoneStar Martini.
Well then: Cheers and happy holidays, everyone!
TURKEY DAY~ We're winding down from a long Thanksgiving weekend that was made fabulous by a visit from our dearest friends--California buddies who retired just east of us to Arkansas--during which we hiked, country danced, drank wine, laughed . . . and talked non-stop until the wee hours every night . . . priceless! On Turkey Day, we barbecued our 15 pound bird (with an Internet-snatched basting recipe that included fresh rosemary, orange peel and balsamic vinegar) and added (South Beach friendly) sides of fresh green beans, whole wheat, sausage and pear stuffing, cranberry chutney, and (outstanding!) Sweet Potato, Ginger and Jalapeno casserole. We did not want for food, trust me. Or warm and lively conversation. Some of it evolved around the way that our lives are now passing at . . .
WARP SPEED~ Is it just us, or does life seem to gallop by faster than you can haul back on the reins? Today I ran off my annual Christmas letter (yes, I'm one of "those" folks), and when I proofed it, I was astounded at the dizzying number of events (both wonderful and tragic) that swept us in 2007. Texas weather that included ice storms and flood, visits from nature's creatures (frogs, snakes, and furry folks) friends and family, the loss of BOTH my parents, the launch of TWO Darcy mysteries, a whirlwind book tour to both coasts, a cruise that took down the Nile and up aboard a camel, and much, much more. But that was just one year, a small slice of life. What was even more staggering, was our wonderment (spurred by a couple of glasses of California chardonnay--and jalapeno spiked yams) at the turn of events that had brought us through the past two decades to where we sat that evening. Because, you see, the four of us were all "second chancers"--folks who'd led previous lives (with different spouses, alternate dreams) and survived twists of "fate" that turned our lives upside down when we'd least expected it. It was fun--and affirming--to hear each person recall where they'd been in, say . . . 1988. And to realize (with goosebumps) that we could never have known the changes (and challenges) that were to come, the way our lives would parallel and then intersect . . . until we arrived at this South Texas Thanksgiving dinner table together. It was a staggering, then very cool realization. And a very good thing to add to our lists of blessings we are thankful for this holiday.
So how about you? Was it a "warp speed" year . . . decade?
Hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful, and that you buckle up your seatbelt--there's holiday madness ahead!
SMALL TOWN ~ For over three years now, I've lived in a small town--for the first time in my life. Add to that, that the small town is in Texas, nearly two thousand miles from my native Northern California, and you have to agree that it could be a culture shock. It was. It is. And because we've recently been traveling to places like Athens, Cairo . . . Newark, Seattle, the "Mayberry" aspects of home are even more apparent. And yet . . . in so many ways, it's SO GREAT. Because of a lot of little things, like:
1) Going to the grocery store today and (while pushing my cart down the aisles) exchanging hello's with 2 neighbors, 4 people from our church, and even our local independent bookseller. And--because it's Texas--getting to smile once again at the pink "stork" signs in the parking lots that designate special parking spots for "Expectant and New Mothers".
2) Attending a fundraiser for our incumbent county sheriff, a barbecue held at a local dude ranch--at which, the candidate was introduced, and rode up on horseback, toting a shotgun.
3) (In a country that has cities banning Christmas lights!) Making plans to attend a "Live Nativity," on Main Street which includes CAMELS trucked in from . . . Cairo? (Probably some private ranch in Forth Worth, but hey--they're live camels for goodness sake)
4) Having a small, independent bookstore--Read All About It Books (soon to have a website and online catalog)--with employees who know my name, pass it along, and cheefully host my launch parties. Making me feel "real," instead of just another ISBN # in a book catalog.
5) Living in a resort community (of 100 or so) where, when hubby and I are walking our 14-yr. old schnauzer, we can recite the name of each family in each house we pass--and might very well be invited to sit and talk.
6) Living in a neighborhood where--when our burglar alarm sounded after a recent lightning strike--the sheriff, fire department, our neighbors and our pastor (who lives next door) arrived within minutes to check on our welfare.
7) Knowing that our town boasts the oldest German Oohmpah Band in the country--requiring septegenarians to bare their knees in lederhosen several times a year.
8) Seeing our church host an annual blessing of the animals--dogs, cats, hamsters, fish . . . even stuffed animals if need be.
9) Having a local CrimeStoppers offer rewards for tips . . . but the coffers remain full, because there's so little crime.
10) Having a local pizza parlor host a Friday Night music venue, with a hurricane Katrina evacuee who (with the help of a talented waiter) packs the room doing his impression of the Blues Brothers. Causing this author to awake last Saturday morning with a voice hoarse from singing along, and hobbling on legs sore from doing the Twist . . .
Seriously, it's great. Not that we don't occasionally crave big city culture and high rises. There's Austin and Dallas, and even San Antonio for that. But for a place to live . . . I'm spoiled. And I'm thinking that my next mystery series will be set in small town. Where everyone knows everybody, and the shops close on Mondays, the streets roll up at 9 PM, and--just like in Camelot--the autumn leaves fall neatly into a pile . .
Ah, I'm hooked.
THE HIGH SEAS ~ As you already know, I've just returned from a 12-day cruise that began in Athens and sailed on to ports in the Black Sea, Cypress and Egypt, before returning to Greece. You know I climbed aboard a camel, you know I navigated a non-Western (meaning Black Hole in the Floor) toilet, drank vodka and ate borscht. What you didn't know is that I promoted my books like banshee aboard the glamorous MS Rotterdam, one of many in the fabulous fleet of uber-ships known as the Holland America Line.
I'm admitting, right here and right now, that I went aboard with . . . an agenda. That I was determined to reach my goal: seeing my funny & romantic cruise mysteries on the library bookshelf of my favorite cruise line. So I brought aboard (along with my glittery gowns, my anti-blood clot airline stockings, my Wikipedia printout history of the Pyramids) one copy each (autographed) of DRESSED TO KEEL, AYE DO OR DIE, and MAI TAI TO MURDER. Then I sought out the Cruise Director--who turned out to be the vivacious, gorgeous and oh-so-British dyamo, Ms. Susan Wood. (The photo above is of Captain Jan Smit and Susan Wood, and . . . moi)
I presented the books, confessed my dream of having them appear in her library and . . . voila, she made a call to Corporate in Seattle and made it happen! And here, to my great delight is a photo of one of my books on the (Bestseller!) shelf on the Rotterdam, and one taken with ship librarian, Susanne:
The VERY best part, was that my books were CHECKED OUT from the first day of the cruise! A captive readership, isolated aboard a ship surrounded my miles of sea . . . a floating literary island of sorts . . . all making for an incredible temptation for an author. To peer at folks reading on deck chairs, in shipboard bars, in lounges . . . to crane her neck to see the book's title, to see if, perchance . . . NOT that I would stoop to such a thing, of course! The 3-mile laps around the Promenade Deck were strictly for my health.
But, I have to say that I'm thrilled that HOLLAND AMERICA CRUISE LINES was so kind, and did their part to make this author's dream come true! Darcy, Marie--your'e really and truly SAILING, ladies!
JET LAG~ is still sapping my brain, calling me to bed at Texas dusk and waking me up . . . at the time of Cairo's call to morning prayer. The laundry's done, the suitcases (over limit, causing us to schlep two bags from terminal to terminal, terminally) stowed, and the 400 digital photos uploaded to the computer. And after 4 days (and regular hikes around the neighborhood), my knees, back and neck are finally forgetting the 18 hour flight back from Athens . . . grueling, but SO worth it for a 12-day cruise adventure that dreams are made of, and included:
1) A hike up to the Acropolis in Athens to see the Parthenon
2) Touring Haiga Sofia (first Christian church) AND the Blue Mosque in Instanbul--drinking Turkish coffee in the Grand Bazaar
3)Cruising through the Dardanelles toward the Black Sea
4) Tasting local wines in Varna, Bulgaria
5) Drinking vodka, eating caviar before the symphony in Odessa, Ukraine--and a first introduction to "non-Western" plumbing (gad! What do you do in heels and a long skirt?)
6) Military monuments, bullet-riddled churches in Sevastopol, Ukraine
7) Castles from the Crusades in Kusadasi Turkey, the ruins (2500 BC) in Ephesus
8) Blue, blue sea in Rhodes, Greece
9) The feral cats of Cyprus--originally imported by Constantine's wife to rid the island of snakes
10) Egypt, Egypt, Egypt: a cruise down the Nile, a *camel ride*, and the goosebumpy first glimpse of the pyramids.
Amazing fodder for storytelling. Memories to last a lifetime.
Me and the Sphinx--who'd have thunk it?
If you want to view the slide show of our trip photos, click here. Note: this file takes a couple of minutes to load and about 15 minutes to play, but includes some cool (and funny) images.
* I climbed aboard that camel--in the shadow of the pyramids--in honor of my mother, Betty Lou, a woman with an insatiable sense of adventure, a killer wit, and the bluest eyes you've ever seen. She died (after a long struggle with Alzheimers) just before we were scheduled to fly to Europe, and the day after my last post here. She'd have been furious if I cancelled. I did my best to see it all through her beautiful eyes.
Bon Voyage and Godspeed, Mom*
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