Ann Minnett, Author

Here's a link to Montana Women Writers --our holiday wishes for all of you.

This is what I wrote on Montana Women Writers today about best gift ever...‎

Can you see how hard it's snowing? We finally have a heavy snowfall, and we might get a foot more up here before the sub-zero temps arrive tonight. Looks like I'll miss my 6:30 meeting in town. There's a lot to be said for getting snowed in.

Welcome to my world for the past (almost) month of NaNoWriMo. I've hardly blogged, hardly emailed with friends and family, rarely exercised... You get the picture. With the exception of 4 fun days in Tennessee for Car Guy's family reunion, my butt has been in that desk chair, and my head has been spinning a tale of guilt and deception on that old laptop's sticking keys.  I'm one thousand words short of my goal of 50,000 this month. Whew! They're proving to be the hardest. The blank screen has mocked me for an hour now, so I decided to post a blog instead. Pretty soon, I'll have to clean a toilet or rearrange my sock drawer. Why has writing become difficult to close to the end? The final thousand words of this challenge won't be the last I write on this story. It never occurred to me that the NaNoWriMo challenge wouldn't end on November 30th. Instead, the new manuscript has created a whole new world, and I can't wait to see what happens. Stay

NaNoWriMo month is proving to be a lot of fun. The 50,000 word challenge is wholly personal and motivational. I'm not recording my word count anywhere other than in my own spreadsheet. Not meeting other writers at local coffee shops to write en masse. For me, writing is not a group activity. With 26,311 words on paper, I'm more than halfway to my NaNoWriMo goal. Better still, a story worth telling is taking shape.   

Here we go! The first substantial snow of the season. With about six inches on the ground, there isn't enough to plow or shovel. We can simply enjoy the view until a few more inches pile on and pile on and... Soon there will be 3 - 4 feet of snow, and that's the way it will stay until April. Some would dread the onset of winter, but I say Great writing weather!

Check out my post on Montana Women Writers today.

I'm not one to sit and watch TV of an evening without a project. Certainly can't write or even edit because those activities require 100% focus. Usually I knit articles of clothing that none of my kids will wear. This summer when we weren't enjoying the outdoors, I used up embroidery floss left over from countless projects (finished and not) and abused an old hat of mine. My totally hideous creation will function as a NaNoWriMo Thinking Cap--a reminder that when it's on head, writing happens. Bring on the mojo! (Selfies to follow.)

Here we go! Burden of Breath is on sale for 99 cents today and tomorrow. I have no idea how it will do. Never done this before! Rather than waiting for Amazon sales numbers to sky-rocket on this gorgeous day, I took these photos in our woods. (Some will see right through my procrastination from NaNoWriMo planning.) Neighbor Cliff used his tractor's grapple to move a slash pile to our burn pile. What took us weeks to cut down, trim and gather took him 30 minutes and two trips to move. Truth to tell, Car Guy worked his tail off, and I occasionally pitched in. For three years, Car Guy lusted after a grapple for our tractor, but we couldn't justify spending the $3,000+! After seeing Cliff's magnificent grapple in action this past spring, I caved and was willing to make the investment. Lucky for us he's a wonderful neighbor and willing to trade slash removal for chocolate truffles. Life is good.

  I had intended for the $.99 download of Burden of Breath to take place on Thursday and Friday, but Amazon has already changed the price. If you want a bargain, check it out by clicking on the cover at right. Thanks!

Here you see the road from the north into our beautiful NW Montana town. Our only access to town is a mess and will be a work in progress for the next two years. I'll take it any day over my former commute through Dallas. I drove 37 miles one way , from the northern countryside, through suburbs and downtown, and south into Oak Cliff. One night in a rainstorm it took me 3 1/2 hours to get home. My bottom numbed. I cried. I can handle the 5-minute wait for traffic and equipment to clear the single dirt path through construction.

I read every book review as it lists on Amazon. I now have 60 and feel so grateful to the readers who take the time to rate and review Burden of Breath. To think that words I wrote have touched/infuriated/surprised/spoken to an unknown reader... it all takes my breath away. I cherry-picked a very favorable review to share below. She and I don't know one another, but somehow we do. 5.0 out of 5 stars Not what I expected, but well done , September 24, 2013 Sally Youngblood (Kentucky) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)      This review is from: Burden of Breath (Kindle Edition) I just finished reading this on my husband's Kindle. I don't know what I expected, but this was not it, this was so much more than I expected. It is very well written, quite honest, raw, and insightful into the complexities of relationships effected by mental illness and abuse. Not a happy book, very disturbing at times, but rang true despite being a novel. If you are lookin

Good grief. I'm making progress on this edit (here page 126/341), but my heart isn't in it. I have to complete Book #2's edits before I start the NaNoWriNo challenge, or it will haunt my sleep. Naturally, the new project is all I can think about.

The current draft of my second novel (pictured below) takes up more space in my head than it does on my desk. Honestly, this novel needs to simmer unattended in a file drawer for a few weeks while I regroup. We’re a little sick of each other. Two luxury problems fill the void almost immediately: 1) Autumn is my favorite time of year in NW Montana, and 2) a dream of my third novel, the fresh promise of ‘the not yet written.’ (Pause here to stroll outside, take some photos, breathe clean mountain air, and talk to my husband working on an old MGB in the shop.) Luxury problem #2 is not so easily handled.   Lucky for me, there’s no better time for a new project than NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) which takes place in November. I’m taking the challenge for the first time. This declaration is my way of holding feet to the fire in hopes of following through. Our own Kathy Dunnehoff spoke about NaNoWriMo at the Flathead River Writers’ Conference last month, en

Authors of the Flathead's annual writing conference took place this past weekend with great success! We try to keep attendance at 100 but attracted 110 writers this time. Next week I'll share the particular life-changing strategy I learned. But the absolute best part of this and any writing conference is spending time with other writers. No matter where we fit in the writing/publishing continuum, writers share the love of putting words on the page. Once again, I found that I'm not unique in another important and humbling way: Many of us fear the self-reveal that accompanies publishing our work. I talked about the fear with a few writers who are stuck. Like me, they have written reports, facts, technical pieces for decades, but the prospect of sharing themselves in fiction blocks their progress. Just when I think that I don't have anything to offer other fiction writers, I find that I do. The self-reveal hasn't killed me, and it won't kill them.

It’s raining today and 40 degrees. Perfect weather for hunkering under a throw on the couch to read, that is, after I edit my manuscript. I’m editing book #2 for consistency while rain plunks on our metal roof, and three deer meander in the yard. Heaven. You’d be surprised at the ease with which basic details change over the months of writing. As the book took shape, the stepson’s coloring and speech changed as his character matured in my head. I gave up trying to recall the name of a law firm, or what street my main character lives on and what year she ran over that guy. Wow, are mismatches apparent in the reading! I have two other objectives for this read-through: Delete unneeded scenes or redundancy, and add transitional paragraphs for clarity. Actually, there’s one more objective. Whatever happens, I must not sink into the morass of wordsmithing, which for me is the most fun and hardest to avoid in early drafts. More later.

  Here we have a most glorious stack of pages. The second novel! Well, the second draft of the second novel. Up until today I didn't care to 'waste' paper on a print-out. I've massaged the scene order and general content enough to get down to serious editing. ☑ Printed copy. ☑  Pe ns in rainbow colors ☑ St icky tabs ☑ Patience.

I used to take my children to a community swimming pool in the summer. They were young, and we stayed in the shallow end together. One afternoon, four 12-13 year old girls huddled in the water nearby. Three were teasing one--today, we’d call it bullying. Their voices became louder as the teasing turned menacing. Then I heard this:   Trio: “Your mother doesn't even care what you do.”   Girl: “Yes, she does! She loves me.” I wondered what led up to that moment and what happened next. Flash forward eight years: My own daughter turned 13, going on 35. My sweet girl rebelled, rolled her eyes, stomped out of rooms, and was generally embarrassed by me. I often thought about that day in the pool during the difficult moments. Although my daughter fought me, did she really equate my restrictions with my love for her? The vignette with the girls in the pool suggested that she might have. Fascinating... Yes? A universal story hides in what I observed at the pool. As a w

1.        Start one month before the promo to line up advertising opportunities. 2.        Read advertising guidelines for each site. Pay for some. 3.        Avoid July and August promotions. Readers are busy vacationing, preparing to vacation, entertaining bored children, or getting ready for the school year. They have less time for reading or thinking about reading. This is my theory. 4.        Don’t be discouraged by low numbers of downloads, and don’t be overly encouraged by high numbers. 5.        Don’t be discouraged by negative book reviews. I reserve the right to be heartened by the glowing ones. 6.        Marketing is a crazy business and has little, if anything, to do with the creative expression in writing.   BTW--Thanks if you downloaded my book! Thanks all the more if you've read it! Sunrise from our back porch has nothing to do with the post, but it makes me happy!

Just a note to say that mid-way through Day 2 of free downloads, Burden of Breath is #5 in free downloads on Kindle and #1 in the Psychological category. This is so fun!

A show of hands for all the people-watchers. Me, too. Don’t ask me the score of the football game, but quiz me on the fans in our section. Clothing, who’s bored, who’s having a fight with their partner, which couples don’t fit together, parenting styles, first dates, and on and on. The writer in me makes up stories about what led them to this moment and what will happen when they go home.   Lucky for me, this avocation became my profession.    It wasn't until I taught Head Start in the early 1970's in a tiny East Texas town that I knew what I would do with the rest of my life. What a privilege to teach/observe 36 impoverished 4- and 5-year-olds in their first school experience. (The fact that I had majored in French and German and was nonetheless hired for this job is another story.) The force of the children’s personalities stunned me. The show-off. The leader. The caregiver. The outcast at 5! The friend to all. The 4-year-old worrier. Their friendships and earnest be

I wrote a riveting scene in which a man beats his dog.   The action and some of the dialogue was exactly what I witnessed a few years ago. It sickened me then and disturbs me even now. I hoped that slipping the scene into my story would 1) make my male character meaner and 2) serve as catharsis for me. Success! I felt relieved for writing the scene, and the character was scary… Too much so. Every reviewer in my critique group was horrified. They warned me that the graphic violence went overboard and would turn off my readers. They said that a narrowly averted beating would be powerful, suggest the character’s violent nature, and keep readers reading. They’re so wise. I still love the scene because it has personal significance, but I’ll make heavy revisions. I write to communicate with readers, not sensationalize. Not even when it really happened.    A bike rider (at left) carries his dog on his back through Kalispell traffic. No dog abuser, this guy!

My sister, Gi nny Merett , is one of my biggest fans, and I am hers. She’s a multimedia artist, but I especially love her stylized watercolors . She recently completed a collage series, “Coats.” Check out her work. Lucky me, no matter where I look in my home, there’s some object that Ginny created—often silly, some refined, and some gifts that could only be mine. This is the Storyteller Doll that she made for me when I got serious about writing. The Storyteller is holding two babies, recounting her tale. I keep it on my desk as a reminder that I am a storyteller and how lovely it is to have a sister, talented or otherwise.

This is my husband, Mike. He laughs a lot and was especially tickled when this picture was taken last week. He’s more apt to laugh out loud than to smirk, sigh, cry, yawn, or gasp. So yesterday when we were watching TV, knitting (me), and reading (who watches TV only?), I didn’t think too much about Mike laughing out loud. But then he gasped. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, saying, “Do I even know you?” He was reading the first chapter of my new novel and speaking to me. “What do you mean?” I said. He ruffled the pages. “Sometimes I think that you spend all your time in a place I don't know with people I don’t even know.” “Why, yes I do.” All of the delightfully crazy characters who reveal themselves to me on paper. I can’t tell you how it pleases me to surprise him, although I almost never set out to do so.

Can you see the man fishing? He passed us on our hike at Many Glacier last weekend when we stopped to pick thimbleberries on the trail. I paid attention to him because he reminded me of a man I used to work with. We nodded, and he was gone. Just before Red Rock Falls, there he was--wading in knee-deep water and casting into the afternoon sun. He likely focused on the water, the rippling surface, the Zen of fishing. I have no idea what he caught, if anything other than my attention. The motion of his fly rod, floppy cap, his resemblance to an old friend, all anchored the majestic scenery. He had no objective view of himself in the solitary act of fishing. He might not care, but I wish I knew his name. I'd send him this memento, my memory.

Exciting times around here writing-wise. First, I've scheduled two free download days for Burden of Breath on September 12th and Friday the 13th (for good luck). More about that in a later post. Most important, the first draft of my second book is done. Whew! Now the real work begins. Writers will tell you that they come to know their characters by the end of the first draft. I totally get that. Although I had a vision for the new book, it wasn't until a third of the way through that I created elaborate character studies. It helped, and certainly I won't wait so long next time to lay that foundation, but my characters still changed by the end. Now that I know Serita and a few minor characters that simply must have greater voices in the story, I can't wait to rewrite it. And so the fun begins!

The title says it all:  You'll never see me sitting behind a card table selling a stack of my books. It's akin to not being asked to dance at the eighth grade graduation party and trying to appear just fine with sitting alone in the bleachers. Why set myself up for the imagined face-to-face rejection? And there we have it. I predict rejection where others have higher expectations. A friend recently completed a book tour of Western Montana - she prefers to call it a drive-about where she visited friends and family along the way, set up in community centers or churches, greeted folks, and sold some books. I'd like to be her when I grow up. But for now, I drive around with four copies of my novel in the back of my Subaru (note the dust) in case someone spontaneously asks to buy my book. My marketing plan needs work.

Note to writer self: Fiction is not real life. I love my main characters—mostly flawed women who make life hard for themselves. Far from spunky ingénues, my ladies have been around the block, gained some wisdom, and made bad choices. Fictional real women. I identified with Hannah and even the unlikable Nina in my novel, Burden of Breath . I lived with these two fragile companions for years while outlining and contemplating their story. When it got right down to the writing, my instinct was to protect them from hardship and heartache. Thank heavens my critique group and others routinely saved me from myself in this regard, reminding that my novel was fiction, and fictional characters encounter roadblocks. Lots of ‘em. Interesting fictional characters lead bumpy lives fraught with problems because easy lives bore the reader. Think about a favorite novel. Notice how the main character’s goal is thwarted in both tragic and benign ways? For example: • Gossip keeps two lovers apart.

Many persons, places and things inspire me, but the constant in all is my need for solitude to process them. Notice and observe. Appreciate and learn. Aspire. As a girl, I physically removed myself in order to find solitude in awe-inspiring landscapes. I’d often disappear over the hill to perch on a boulder and write in my diary, an old soul at age seven. Once I got my license, I’d sneak off alone to Red Rocks Amphitheater—back then it was unfenced and open to the public 24/7—to ponder the expanse of Denver’s lights from the last row of benches. The enormity of possibility thrilled me then as it does now when I count the seven layers of mountains between me and Glacier National Park. An ability to find solitude regardless of my surroundings came as a gift in adulthood. I now understand that the small has no less potential for inspiration than the huge. Lately, I’ve narrowed my focus, literally and figuratively, in photographing nature. I’m inspired by the complexity of si

This is me. Happy. We woke at 5:00AM to go kayaking--specifically to watch the sunrise while kayaking. Due to technical difficulties, we watched the gorgeous sunrise from the truck on our way to the water. What we found was water like glass and no wind. Ducks and smaller birds flew around us, and a family of otters jumped off the island and swam away (too quick for a photo). Then we watched a bald eagle and a golden eagle circle, swoop, and bring back fish to their nests. Again, too fast for a photo. But we found a nest and waited, hoping to catch the return flight with food for the young ones who made a racket when food arrived. We succeeded only in alarming Mama. Here she is hopping out of the nest. We reluctantly moved on.

Seven of us in Montana Women Writers have constructed a postcard to promote our books. I'm looking at a stack of over a hundred of these cards and wondering Do I even know that many people? I'll mail some. It's likely that those who receive the card will have already bought my book, but it will help the other writers. My larger plan is to stealth-distribute the rest. Finally. Marketing that is almost as fun as writing and doesn't require the face-to-face, "Want to buy my book?" The Flathead Valley hosted over 1,000,000 visitors in summer 2012, and this year will surpass that mark. They shop, eat in restaurants, peruse storefronts, get coffee. I'll leave our lovely  Reading in Montana cards everywhere I go--a postcard souvenir for the taking. They might even mail it back home. But my guess is that in a few weeks, as families unpack their backpacks and rolling bags, or pick up that vacation read that they didn't finish, maybe a Reading in Montana

It's huckleberry pickin' time in The Flathead! Almost past time. We picked a pint last week and have used them in fruit salad, shakes, and pancakes. A little goes a long way. Our property borders thousands of acres of National Forest. We feel like land barons on our ten, given that we have access to what feels like unlimited terrain. One of the perks is the easy walking distance to large huckleberry patches. If you haven't tried huckleberries but get a chance, do it! Compared to blueberries, they're more tart and a lot harder to come by. Huckleberries grow only in the wild and on mostly shady hillsides. The real trick is to pick them at the precise time without annoying the bears that love the treats.   Here's a young grizzly checking out our neighbor's fruit tree a few days ago. This tree is a 5-minute walk from our patch. Needless to say, we carried bear spray and made a lot of noise as we picked.    

What do you do with enduring sadness over something that you can't change? You know, that one nagging thing that would improve dramatically if only he/she/they would do it my way. I've crashed through anger and resentment, out-lived hurt feelings, and stopped worrying that if I had just done something differently all those years ago, maybe that thing would have veered down path 2A instead of path 2B and... Didn't happen that way. And here I'm tethered by perfect sadness--quiet and almost comforting. It won't kill me, but it won't let go either. Writing this loosened its grip a bit.

  I subscribe to a daily inspirational news feed that inserts my name and a personal goal into the automated message. My original goal in 2002? A home in Montana . When we moved here three years ago, I changed my online goal to Time to write and later to Two good friends in Montana . Check! Check! Funny thing… the inspirational message spontaneously reverted to A home in Montana a few weeks ago, making me revisit a long-held dream of fresh air, mountains, winter wardrobe, and peace and quiet. My original goal held the promise of open spaces and beautiful views, but peace and quiet was the key after a demanding career in the big city. Perhaps even isolation. After all, I’m a writer and an introvert at that. I live in my head and require solitude to capture my internal hubbub on the page. However, I’m never alone. My characters inhabit my studio, surrounded by cherished objects that make me happy, and together we concoct stories. Sometimes my typing fingers can’t keep up with th

My short story, "Offerings," is part of a collection published in the 2013 Summer Issue of Sixfold. (Check it out here for free.) It's about an elderly widow who does her best to remain independent while taking personal risks and deceiving her adult children. The story takes place in the Dallas home where we lived for 15 years before moving to Montana. Huge lush bois d'arc trees surround the house, and a creek runs behind. Our courtyard at left appears in the story as does the gnarly creek. It makes me a little homesick. I'm beyond happy that we live in beautiful NW Montana now, but it's clear that my stories haven't caught up to my geographical location. Hope you enjoy "Offerings."

When you live in a beautiful part of the world, people come visit. Some of Mike's relatives will arrive this afternoon from Georgia and will use our studio over the shop as home base for a week. We're taking them to Point of Rocks for great prime rib tonight and, better yet, a true taste of Montana. (@Mile marker 151 between Whitefish and Eureka.) Mike called for reservations and asked the owner to please have the mountain lion pose by their pond to impress the visitors. Not so far fetched! So what, you ask, does that have to do with the photos above? Only that our snowshoe hare friend has been our only resident guest in months. She lives in the rocks outside the shop and loves petunias. The day after these photos were taken we caught the hare with purple sprouting from her mouth... alas, no camera.

No, this is not mine. The forecast called for rain all day yesterday, so we drove nearly 20 miles on a rutted dirt road to look at an original homestead property for sale - 160 wilderness acres surrounded by state and national forests. We're just dreaming about the land, but what an opportunity to photograph wildlife! This is bear country, after all. We both brought our cameras. Aside from two bucks, we spotted this artifact at a creek crossing. Wildlife indeed! My heart went out to that well-endowed woman. How sore she must have been after riding a few jarring miles of dirt road.

Readers may not know how important reviews are to an author. Although an avid reader my entire life, I had written only two book reviews up until three years ago. Both  Peace Like a River by Leif Enger and All the Pretty Horses by Cormack McCarthy moved me so deeply that I had to share my literary love with the world! Now I know that sharing my enjoyment of a novel (blockbuster or lesser-known work) with other readers is important. So I review novels that move me and describe why I recommend them.  Frankly, I won't give a bad review to any novel unless it infuriates me in some way, e.g., plagiarized or terribly terribly written. If I simply don't like the novel, I stop reading and move on. My motto: Support the good ones and ignore the rest! I read all my reviews and try not to live and die by them. Each review is a heart-felt opinion about my novel - a note left by one reader to those who follow. It matters.

I've lived in NW Montana for three years now, but none of my stories take place in this gorgeous setting. Yet. Residual ideas and characters followed me to Montana. I thought I'd have to get them out of my system before writing about what surrounds me here. (Like this year's blooming bear grass at right.) But my Montana story percolation has begun. You see, long before the outline or the seat-of-the-pants first draft, small incidents become feelings, notes become scenes, a collection of women becomes my protagonist, and on and on. Let the story percolate, as writer and teacher Dennis Foley explained at a recent Authors of the Flathead session. Percolation in the form of lists diverts me from finishing the first draft of my second novel. How is NW Montana culturally different from Dallas? Answers to the question alone could delay my writing for days, and has. This morning I drank coffee in a sunny window, read our local newspaper online (they don't deliver up here)

My novel, Burden of Breath, is a free download today. The only free download day for awhile. Advice to Indie Authors:    Rule #1: Schedule 2 or more days for free book offers.    Rule #2: Always read self-publishing advice before scheduling one free day only. So, in the spirit of It will be all write ... I remain hopeful that thousands of readers will download my book and read it. If the book sells some copies later on, icing on the cake. I've written stories all my life and nervously shared them with a friend or my sister. The simple fact that readers, strangers from anywhere in the world, might read my words... well, it takes my breath away.

How do you accept what you cannot change? Maybe that's too big an assumption on my part, and you don't even try to accept the problem (let's say), but fight fight fight away until you surrender. You likely make yourself miserable in the process. I know because stubborn insistence on what I want rather than what's before my nose has long been my MO. Acceptance is my friend. The other way is not. So, back to the how of acceptance. When I can't change "it," I write a story about "it," dumping all those feelings about why "it' is wrong. The first draft is usually shit (see Hemingway quote from May 2013). Once all those feelings have cleared my system and stare at me from the page, I start playing. How to render "it" unrecognizable to family, friends, and prominent players should I ever publish? 1) Change names - No, Sister, the watercolor artist is not you. 2) Alter locations - That large southern city couldn't be

A friend posted the following on Facebook: "Say what you will about the south... No one ever retires and moves up north." Wrong! We moved from a large city in Texas to NW Montana three years ago, and while we're a really long way from family and old friends, I never want to move back to the humidity, heat, and long allergy seasons. Still... last week we visited family (read: grandson) and had a wonderful time. The problem for a writer who breaks with routine is that no writing gets done. No  thinking about writing got done. I don't believe in coincidences. Montana Women Writers met in my absence, deciding to begin an email conversation about how we find time to write. I stewed for 2 days, unable to give the topic any meaningful attention. Its importance struck me while tapping my contribution on an iPad at the Salt Lake City Airport between flights home. What can a grandmother say about those days filled with a sweet 16 month-old's constant movement and c

Ernest Hemingway also said, "All first drafts are shit." I take heart. My critique group met last night at Marie Martin's house( http://mariefmartin.com ). They offered me feedback on a first draft that once depicted an eccentric woman who watched people and made up stories about them... you know, sort of like me. Ahem! Things have changed. My first draft has become epic and hardly resembles the simple story I set out to tell. The group reminded me that my original idea wasn't interesting.   Once the story expanded and I got more comfortable with the characters, then the narrative grew exponentially. So where does a writer find the balance between bad-writer-epic and riveting-simple-story? Experience shows that the third or fourth draft might reveal such a balance. But first I write half again too much content in the first draft, and my wonderful critique members suffer through with me. My favorite statement from last night's meeting: "You mean that

I love my mom. I love my children. This is where we all live. We weren't together on Mother's Day, but I had fun talking to all of them. Among other topics, they asked how the book was doing. Oh, you mean the novel about a crazy and abusive mother... Burden of Breath's Nina is one of the most troubled maternal characters ever written. The mother-daughter relationship featured in the story is... well, dysfunctional.  The main character, Hannah, succeeds in breaking that cycle, but the burden of her abuse haunts her life. So, in keeping with my increasingly shaky promotional skills, I released the novel in time for Mother's Day! Enjoy! Seriously now - we all know families who don't fit the 'suitable for framing' image of healthy family. Perhaps you suffered a difficult childhood. That's why I wrote Burden of Breath . No matter the circumstances, we survive, perhaps forgive, and move on. We have that choice.

My discomfort in personal exposure is another way of acknowledging a total preoccupation with me, my, and I in this publication process. And nothing good comes of that! The antidote? Physical labor, preferably outdoors, such as staining our gate, which isn't your average garden gate. The cross timber stands 18 feet high. Thank heavens Mike manned the tall ladder and left me to stain the lower posts. The next day I supervised while Mike and neighbor Cliff affixed the steel cap to the cross beam. Scary moments and a hundred trips up and down the ladders (for them), and we admired the newly coffee-colored gate and faux-copper cap. The thought of my former boss, old friends, or in-laws reading what I wrote didn't cross my mind, neck craned and scuttling around for drills and screws and footing the ladders. Nope. Those thoughts returned later, a little less daunting after a project well-done.

Thanks to all who downloaded Burden of Breath! I rushed into my first free download weekend without understanding the big picture, but in the spirit of It Will Be All Write ... I learned a lot about scheduling and placement for next time. That said, the most remarkable event during the book launch week was my feeling of total exposure. I'm by nature an introvert, quiet until I get to know you, and even then let's face it, not the most forthcoming. Although Burden of Breath is not a memoir, the emotions, language, and style reveal more about me than I'd like to admit, and people I've known for a long time will read the book with an intimate view of the author. The feeling of being published for the first time? I'm naked under a raincoat and walking along a city street when a gust of wind whooshes past, throwing open my cover for the world to see.

My new novel, Burden of Breath, is available as an eBook at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CGM90FQ  and will be free this weekend (May 4th and 5th). I read this morning that weekend days are the worst for offering free downloads because most books are sold then... which only confirms that just because I'm a writer, it doesn't mean that I know how to sell a book. As always, this writer has so much to learn.

By the way, the banner photo was taken by Mike Coleman... the long view from our back porch.

This blog took shape during the horrible week of the Boston Marathon bombing, the West, TX explosion, and the US Senate's failure to expand background checks on gun sales. Despite, and perhaps because of my sadness over these events, the subtitle of my blog is It will be all write . I believe it will be all right, but I can't live in the sadness for long. What could I do to make a difference? Send money to my political group of choice. Maintain a viewpoint of tolerance, understanding, and open-mindedness. Reach out to friends who have ties with Boston and the small community around West (world-famous for kolaches). Turn off the television... and write.