Years ago my husband gave me a lovely set of diamond earrings. I wore them almost daily. Yesterday, I decided to wear them with gold jackets. I noticed when I put them on that they didn’t seem very secure (the jackets are heavy).  I was standing at the bathroom sink blow-drying my hair when one of the sets: diamond stud, jacket, and back fell into the sink. I gasped as I saw them slide down the porcelain toward the drain. Quickly I captured the set with the curve of my palm and drew them towards the lip of the sink and up onto the counter.  With a sigh of relief I turned the hair-dryer off so that I could put my earrings back on. But, to my horror I’d saved the jacket and the back, but the diamond had disappeared. It was then I noticed the three little circular openings at the top of the sink. My precious diamond had fallen into the overflow channel.

Maybe I wouldn’t have been so upset if I’d carelessly lost it at another time, but eight years ago this week my darling husband died and now, through a moment’s inattention, I’d lost his gift to me—a sign of his love and care.

I chastised myself. Why hadn’t I stopped to secure the back? Why had I decided to wear the jackets when I was only going to the mall to take a walk? How could I be so careless? The small loss of the earring seemed a symbol of the larger loss of my husband. I didn’t cry. Instead I picked another set to wear and went on out to take my walk. But, oh, I was so disappointed.

I was in Macy’s when it hit me: If my husband were still here he would find that earring if he had to take the whole bathroom apart. He could fix anything—literally. And so I called my youngest son. Saturday, he’s coming over to take the sink apart. I’m betting he finds that diamond. I’ll let you know.

“My grief and pain are mine. I have earned them. They are part of me. Only in feeling them do I open myself to the lessons they can teach.” Anne Wilson Schaef. From the book, “Healing After Loss,” by Martha Whitmore Hickman.

I took myself out for a Valentine lunch today, and while I was driving on one of Lexington’s busiest roads I spied an older woman riding a wobbly bicycle. At least I think it was the bicycle that was wobbly—perhaps it was the lady.  A large slouch purse hung from one of the bike’s handles and a shopping bag dangled from her elbow. She wore a knit hat, hot- pink pants, and a fur coat. Well, my writer’s heart was captivated. What stories she must have to share. What a life she must have led. If I had not been afraid I’d get her killed in traffic, I would have stopped to talk with her. Of such characters and a little imagination rich stories are spun.

My children gave me flowers, strawberries dipped in chocolate, and Orange Leaf yogurt for Valentine’s. Maggie accompanied me on a walk in the park.  And the wobbly bicycle lady gave me food for thought. I hope your Valentine’s Day was equally blessed.

I just finished the edit for Tattler’s Branch. Everyone say, “Yay!”

I had to cut some scenes and add some others. For instance: towards the end of one chapter it is raining. In the following chapter there was a change in POV but it is a sunny day. As the Bible says, it rains on the just and the unjust alike. And in the world of fiction, if it rains on one of my characters it must rain on the others. (smile)

My editor does not change what I write. She makes suggestions and points out places where I go amiss.  I nearly always bow to her expertise. This process makes my books much better. As a writer, it’s good to remember the goal is to turn out a really good book, not to be possessive of your words. It is cold and icy here inKentucky—I think I’ll go write a warm and sunny day.

I had no intent to stay up until midnight last evening. Maggie was snuggled down on her pillow fast asleep, and my pillow was calling, but I’ve been under-the-weather with bronchitis and a cough that will not let me rest. And so with millions of others, I watched the revelers in Time Square as the beautiful crystal ball dropped. As 2012 slipped away and I wished it good riddance, the sound of fireworks boomed outside my house.

The sky looked like the 4th of July, only prettier, as the fireworks were reflected in the snow-covered ground. Across the street, my neighbor’s Christmas tree was shining as brightly as the sky. I was almost thankful for the illness that kept me awake for this lovely living Christmas card.

I have many hopes for this New Year: hope that our elected officials will somehow come together as they should for the benefit of all, hope that there will be jobs and paychecks for working folks and helping hands for those in need, hopes for no more violence, hopes for easily accessed mental-health care, and hopes that all the dogs and kitties have a pillow to sleep on.

I don’t usually make resolutions or set goals, but for myself, I hope that my newest book, Tattler’s Branch, pleases my readers and that I make the correct decision about my next project.

I’d love to hear how you celebrated the New Year, and what your hopes and dreams for 2013 are.

After an early morning walk and a few bites of kibble (for Maggie, not me) it was off to the vets for a much needed pedicure. Maggie hates to go to the animal hospital for any reason. I don’t know how she knew where we were going, but she was trembling all over before we got to the end of the driveway. Usually, she stands on a pillow on the passenger seat with her nose out the window, anticipating the walking trail at the end of the drive, but not today. Since I can drive to the vet on back roads, and since she was so upset, I broke my own rule and let her sit on my lap.

When we pulled up in front of the clinic, she stuck her head under my arm in her classic, “If I can’t see them, they can’t see maneuver.” Even getting her on the scale for a weight check was traumatic. (What girl wants to be weighed in a public place?) She was her usual svelte 11.20 pounds/ounces. The vet tech retrieved the nail clippers and eight clicks later Maggie was finished. I’ve learned if I hold her in a dangling position during the nail trim, as opposed to having her sit on the table, she doesn’t put up such a fuss. With her attitude, it’s a good thing she’s not a Great Dane or a German Shepherd.

The tech offered Maggie a treat, but she declined. She wasn’t about to let down her guard. No telling what those people would want to do to her next. On the way out, I stopped at the dog biscuit jar and picked out one tiny biscuit in each color for her to have once she was back in her usual good humor. The bill was 11.50. I could get my nails polished for less.

Next we went through the McDonald’s drive through for a bacon-cheese-egg biscuit and a diet cola. I’d brought the morning newspaper in anticipation of reading while I ate. After driving to the park, I unfolded the paper and enjoyed my breakfast while Maggie nosed around for the biscuits I hid under her car-seat pillow. As soon as she had polished off her treats, she climbed back in my lap. It’s hard to read the paper through a dog, so we took a nice walk instead. Midway around the trail, I could hear a rooster crowing. If Maggie could hear, I’m sure she would have enjoyed finding that rooster.

Now, while I work, Maggie is curled up in her bed taking a well deserved nap. I am grateful for Maggie. She’s a great big dog in a small dog body. She is willful and spunky and does things her way. But, she’s also fiercely loyal and very loving—unless you’re a vet with nail clippers in your pocket.

If you like to read about writing or know someone who does, the following book would be a terrific Christmas gift. C.J. is a friend of mine. She also won the Christian Writers Guild 1^st Novel Contest.

112 Christian Authors and Publishing Professionals Share Their Best Advice for Novelists.

On Amazon for your KINDLE: http://ow.ly/flxhF
On B&N for your NOOK:  http://www.ow.ly/flyAC

C.J. Darlington
TitleTrakk.com Co-founder / Family Fiction Magazine Contributor / NovelCrossing.com Contributor
http://www.cjdarlington.com

I had good news from Tyndale (my publishing house) this week. They have accepted “Tattler’s Branch Road” for publication next September. Whew! What a relief. Even though this will be the 7th book Tyndale has published, I still go through writer’s anguish after I send a new manuscript in. It is difficult to part with the characters I’ve spun out of thin air. I always wonder if they are really ready to meet the public.  It’s sort of like it was years ago when I got my three boys ready for Sunday school, always tucking something in, wiping something off, and straightening something else.

In “Tattler’sBranch Road,” you will meet a diverse group of people. There’s Doc Lilly (of course) and Armina (whom you’ve already met), as well as Lilly’s sister Mazy, the local sheriff, Chanis Clay, and a sly stranger,  Shade Harmon.

The story centers on a baby who seems to appear out of nowhere. Why doesn’t her mother come forward to claim her? The good folks in Skip Rock Shallows step up to keep the baby safe and ultimately to save the life of Doc Lilly.

In my writing I like to explore what makes people do the things they do. I think my readers will like getting to know the people who populate this new novel. For myself, I’ve grown very fond of them. Can’t wait to see if you like them too.

Pray for the folks impacted by Hurricane Sandy and also for the leaders we will elect on Tuesday. How wonderful it is to live in a free society.

This past Saturday would have been my 50^th wedding anniversary had my husband lived. We were married in 1962. We met when I was fifteen and he nineteen. He was from a neighboring county. All of his friends thought we were a perfect match. We started “going steady” when he gave me his high-school class ring from 1959. It was the fashion in those days to wrap your boyfriend’s ring in angora wool which was teased into a puff. Cool, daddy, cool.

Our dates were Saturday night events consisting of going to the Dairy Queen or Frisch’s drive through, or to the local theatre where we watched movies like “All Hands on Deck,” with Pat Boone and Barbara Eden and “Sanctuary,” starring Lee Remick and Yves Montand. We thought we were so grownup. After our dates we would park under the sugar maple tree at the end of my driveway. When my dad thought we’d been out there long enough he would turn the flood light off and on.

We were each other’s only sweethearts. When I graduated from high-school we became engaged. My ring had an actual diamond chip and was precious to my heart. We were married that October. Two weeks later Chuck was drafted into the army. Eleven months later our first son was born. Two other sons followed giving us three wonderful boys.

When Chuck returned home from active duty we set up housekeeping in nearby Lexington,Ky. He became an engineer and I a registered nurse. We were given forty-three years together. Our love never waned. I can truly say I loved him just as much the day I kissed him good-bye as I did when we shared our first kiss under that old sugar maple tree.

On what would have been my 50^th wedding anniversary I celebrated good memories.

I’ve been on deadline with my latest book, Tattler’s Branch, but this week I took a short break and went to visit Peaks Mill Christian Church in Frankfort, Ky. I had been invited to speak and sign books following their Ladies Salad Supper.

Peaks Mill Christian is a lovely white church with an old fashioned steeple. The building would be right at home in my novel which is set in 1911.  In the front of the church is a beautiful flower garden with zinnias and marigolds, two my favorite flowers. Oddly enough, I’d just written a scene in which these flowers are featured. Odder still, was the big red hound dog laying around (yes—I know it should be lying, but hound dogs don’t lie around, they lay) in the church yard. Just that morning I’d added a red-coated hound dog to my book. He has a small but important part.  The church, the flower garden, the dog—it was as I I’d stepped right into the setting of my book.

The church is small (to my mind—just the right size) with lovely leaded windows and old fashioned wooden pews. The ladies had decorated the fellowship hall in fall colors. There must have been a hundred gorgeous salads spread out for all to enjoy. I had to try the deviled eggs, some yummy potato salad, and a slice of a home- grown yellow tomato. Delicious.  Dessert was individual dessert breads. Each small loaf had a sticker with one of my favorite Scriptures printed on it.  “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us. . .”

The songs we sang before I spoke were stirring, old-time hymns. It was not hard to imagine the generations past who had stood in that same place singing those same words of worship.

I love country churches with old-fashioned steeples, old fashioned songs and old-fashioned faith.  Since I write historical fiction, I’m always trying to capture the essence of the old time ways… 

Thank you, Peaks Mill Christian Church, for welcoming this old-fashioned writer with good, old-fashioned love.

Photos by Ray Wilmoth

When I opened my trusty laptop to write this blog it had a major complaint: Your battery is low (7%).  If you don’t plug in your computer soon, it will hibernate automatically.

Like I didn’t already know my battery was low. LOL. I tried to remember when I last had an actual vacation.  It was a trip toSan Franciscoin 2002.  I’ve been to some wonderful writing conferences since then, for example:Atlanta,ColoradoSprings, Ashville, andSt. Louis, but though they are fun they’re still work related.

Novel writing is a 24/7 job. Even if you’re not parked in front of the keyboard, what you’ve just written or what you’re planning to write is always on your mind. Like when I went to the grocery for bird seed and bought dog food instead. Sometimes I’m in the middle of the aisle staring at Kellogg’s cereal or Zesta crackers while writing a scene in my head or searching for the perfect adjective to describe a frog’s eye’s (jade-green and beautiful according to Shakespeare.)

So, in lieu of honest-to-goodness “real” vacations, I plan mini retreats. Maggie’s favorite is a simple walk in the park. We’ve watched hawks build nests, rabbits playing keep away, and children on the swing set. My favorite is my weekly retreat to Panera Bread where I order their delicious broccoli soup and a blueberry muffin. I always take the latest copy of Writer’s Digest to enjoy reading while I eat. Sometimes Maggie and I just sit outdoors enjoying the flowers, hummingbirds and the writing spider that constantly repairs her web atop the bushy lantana.

My best “power source,” however, is a few minutes daily with my Bible. I like to read a devotional first—currently it’s a book by Robert Morgan called 100 Bible Verses Everyone Should Know By Heart, and then read the Scripture reference from the devotional.

I hope you make time this week to recharge.

Blessings, Jan

Do you ever have those moments when you doubt the importance of what you do? Questioning the worth of your work is common for writers. I was having a bit of doubt this week while writing this scene: It’s 1911 in a coal camp in Eastern Ky. My lead character, Lilly Still M.D. is treating a young boy who has swallowed a coin which is lodged in his right bronchus. The boy, Timmy, is in danger of suffocation.  I had read of a similar situation in one of my 1880’s medical texts. I needed to get Timmy to throw up. I decided if Lilly gave him castor oil (anybody remember this old time remedy?) he might up chuck the coin. My remedy worked and Timmy recovered, but I began to doubt the validity of my writing. If I let the scene stay as written would my readers accept it? Or did I need to do more research? It’s important when writing historical fiction to be as realistic as possible. I casually turned my quandary over to the Lord.

Now for the Jesus passing by moment: That evening Maggie and I settled down with our cheese and cracker snack to watch my favorite television program, NYC Medical. This is a new series, no repeats yet.  One of the stories featured that evening was about a young boy who had a piece of meat lodged in his airway.  The doctor ordered a scan to pinpoint exactly where the obstruction was.  In order for the test to work the boy had to drink contrast dye.  Yuck—double yuck. When the boy tried to swallow the vile liquid he vomited and the meat chunk shot out.

I couldn’t believe my scene was being played out right before my eyes. Forevermore, this was all the verification I needed to know I’m writing exactly what I’m supposed to write.  I was so excited I woke Maggie (who had gone to sleep as soon as the cheese was gone) to tell her. She was not surprised.  I thanked Jesus for His kindness and His gentle care of me.

Watch for these special moments in your own life. Share them with others.

Have a blessed week.