Sign, Sign, Everywhere A Sign

 I've been pushing to get the hardcover edition of Moondrops & Thistles out for the 30th anniversary of the end of Desert Storm. It's hard to believe it's been that long already. Time flies when you keep busy.

Being busy means I did not get it ready to publish by today. It is getting close. I'd rather have it later than I wanted and as right as I can get it than to meet my own deadline. I do have the front cover ready. Want to see it? I can at least do that today.

What do you think?

I've done some revamping of the story since the paperback came out ten years ago (also hard to believe). If you've read the original, you likely won't recognize much change, if any. Some descriptive detail. Some adding. Some deleting. But the same story of a decorated Desert Storm soldier running into a fiery spark of life in the middle of the dark pouring rain just when he needs it most. 

My plan for today was to continue working on this story, but when I woke up, my Rehearsal characters were yelling at me to give them some attention. And the internet was out. Okay. So. Change of plans. I ignored the connection issue and worked on Rehearsal Book 5 until after lunch when I decided to take a break and paint a bit instead. When I turned my playlist onto shuffle, because I need my music to paint, the first song that played was So Into You, one I had just mentioned (again) during my writing session. I took it as a sign that I did what I should have when I listened to my instinct to go back to this book for today. Then a couple of other songs passed and I tried to rewind to that one and clicked it one too often and then had to restart it. Sighing, I chuckled when another one from the series started.

That felt like a knock-her-in-the-head-if-she-won't-listen sign. I've had so many doubts about this series/serial/saga that was my first begun major writing project and may end up being the last, too, as slowly as it's coming along and with the sequel and prequel in mind. And... maybe a first for me: a mystery that's related. I strongly felt today that I was being told to just keep going with it. There's a reason the story has been so invasive throughout most of my life. Even if I don't know what it is.

Sometimes we don't know. Sometimes we get signs and ignore them, to our own detriment. Sometimes, though, we listen. And we learn.

One of the three main Rehearsal characters believes strongly in signs, until she thinks maybe she doesn't, and then has to regroup and reconsider.

Where these signs come from is anyone's guess. I do believe that, like Daws when he is sent exactly what he needs when he needs it and is ready to recognize it, the willingness to see the sign is what matters most. Being open to hear what we need to hear matters. Being willing to change what we thought we believed helps us grow.

Much of my work revolves around just that. Simple, maybe, but also very complex and not easy to accomplish. 

Coincidentally, these two books getting the same post space actually works well. They do get connected eventually. Those of you who have read the book that spawned the Daws (Sergeant Fred Dawson) character (and thank you for requesting more of him), Off The Moon, have found the connection. At least part of it. ;-)  Like life, everything gets connected, around my series/serial/saga, that is.

Even a Desert Storm soldier in 1991.

#DesertStorm30

(Side note: Off The Moon first came out in 2009 and Moondrops & Thistles in 2011. M&T is set 9 years earlier. They are related, but can be read in either order. M&T goes back and explains the connection between Daws and Ryan, which will be explained further in a Rehearsal book. Confused yet?)

No Pneumonia Here

"Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia." Kurt Vonnegut

Life is constant reinvention, at least for some of us intent on growing and exploring as much as possible. The same is true with writers not content to stay in a pigeon hole some publisher creates. Those who are content to do so generally do well with it, and that's great. There's a big audience for those well-promoted genres. The rest of us ... well, we have to figure out how to find an audience for our not-so-well-promoted little niches.

That's a long-winded way to say I've been playing with a new tagline for my LK books. I recently updated the artwork (headers and icon) for EMK, plus the tagline. Now it's on to revamping LK a bit. No, I've never been one to sit still well. I'm always looking for different and better. My daughter says "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" was written for me. As Loki said in in Thor: The Dark World, "I don't do satisfied." (from memory - could be a bit misquoted, but the gist is the same) I liked Loki better from that line forward. I get it.

I like my current tagline: Literary Romance with an Artsy Twist, but I don't think it's coming across well. "Literary" tends to turn people off, unless they love 700 page rambling insightful slow books (yes, I am one of those, at times). "Romance" turns people away unless they like the bodice-ripper kind of stories, or 100 page fast meet-and-fall in love books. I like romance. I'm a romantic. But I'm not really THAT kind of romantic. I'm somewhere between the two, which is what my tagline was supposed to say. I don't think it's working. So, my new tagline:

Conservative Fiction for the Intellectual Romantic

What do you think?

I put it out on my personal Facebook page to a limited group of people to ask their thoughts the other day. Most who replied loved it, said it made them stop and think, which is part of the idea. I did get some dissent, a good point that it would likely turn off more liberal readers. That's probably true, and I did consider as much, but as I explained, any reader "liberal enough" to let the tagline turn them away is likely not going to enjoy my work, anyway. Not everyone will. It is on the conservative side, although I have characters on all sides of all lines providing point and counterpoint, wider POVs than just my own. I don't like to read preachy fiction, so I don't write preachy fiction. I do write societal and cultural fiction. My main characters do tend to be on the conservative side. And why shouldn't they be? Liberal fiction is everywhere; liberality dominates current fiction. I know. I read plenty of it. One of my favorite authors has bent so far that direction, I stopped reading him. Point: not everyone wants that. A lot of us don't. Whereas we may enjoy reading different points of view that don't agree with our own, and I do think that's important, we don't necessarily want everything we read to tell us we're haughty, greedy, evil, stupid, etc. (yes, I have read plenty of fiction that says exactly that) because we're more conservative than the current tide.

I'm not trying to make love to the whole world when I write. I'm trying to tell a good, deep, well-rounded story with thoughts I ponder often and questions I constantly have. Some of it tends to be a bit more liberal and not all conservatives will agree with me. Overall, though, it is moderate conservative fiction, and I'd rather those on either extremist side not bother than to rant and rave about expecting one thing and getting something else (kind of like the new Deadpool ad that tells parents PLEASE DON'T take your minor children to see the movie and then rant about how horrible it was for them to see when it's rated R for a reason!).

Why shouldn't we have "conservative fiction" that is not "Christian fiction"? There's room for all of us.

As for the "intellectual romantic" part of the line, yes, my books are heavy on romance, but it's not genre romance. It's relationship development wrapped around a societal story. It's the why of two people coming together, how they deal with conflicts that threaten them being together, why they decide to overcome them or not, how others interfere, including family and friends. It's supposed to make a reader stop and think.

In short, I'd rather put out the call to those who want to philosophize a bit as they read, who are interested in varying viewpoints and will consider them, and who love a good story with in-depth characters who understand the value of morality and have differing ideas about how to best love one's neighbors than to attract a wider group of readers who very well won't be interested. One of my characters is fighting the effects of pneumonia, but I'd rather not.

[If you prefer shorter and a bit less philosophical/intellectual love stories, I have that in my Ella M. Kaye line. ;-) ]

Of course this means I'll need new artwork to match the new tagline...

Tartan Day and following the band

The Declaration of Arbroath, which declared Scotland’s independence from England, was signed on April 6th, 1320.

Firstly it set the will and the wishes of the people above the King. Though they were bound to him 'both by law and by his merits' it was so that their freedom might be maintained. If he betrayed them he would be removed and replaced…

Secondly, the manifesto affirmed the nation's independence in a way no battle could, and justified it with a truth that is beyond nation and race. Man has a right to freedom and a duty to defend it with his life.   from TartanDay.org

In 1997, Tartan Day became official across the United States in recognition of the Scots influence in America and that our own Declaration of Independence was modeled after the Declaration of Arbroath.

~~

During the Creative Mojo radio interview, I mentioned that my Rehearsal series was inspired by my favorite band back in the 70s. It was “coming out day” as Nessa said, since I hadn’t said publicly which band that was. As it turns out, yes, the band was from Scotland and that gave a lot of us teenagers and pre-teens a huge interest in Scotland and in tartan. Hey, the BCR lads wore it to honor their heritage (or … to catch attention) so of course it was super cool, although in those days it was only super cool for Roller fans. It’s everywhere now, and it is “sick,” or whatever they say these days to mean cool, to wear plaid. Think it’s only circumstantial that it’s in vogue now that all those teens are now grown up and running things? Hm. Maybe.

Anyway, yes, Raucous, my band in Rehearsal, was inspired directly. And no, they are not meant to be an imitation. Raucous is an American band with a Scottish interloper, and they’re rock in the vein of Chicago and Journey meet KISS. As I told Nessa, I was still a young teen when I created this story and these characters. (Don’t worry; the writing has been completely redone since then!) The idea of a new guy coming in affected my thoughts and of course the tartan thing is there (but not worn by my band), and I borrowed a couple of names as a tribute of sorts.

Mainly, Rehearsal comes from my music obsession and my obsession with wanting to know and understand people’s backgrounds, the whys and hows of what they do and their choices, even when they are people I don’t know. I’ve also made a habit of studying the ripple effect in interpersonal relationships. Everything we do affects those around us, even if we don’t see it. Rehearsal has a huge ripple effect to it.

-- What happens when you give up something you want to help someone else? How does it affect that someone long term?
-- What happens when you choose to stay quiet and let things take their course instead of guiding them?
-- What happens when you don’t tell someone how you feel?
-- What happens when you make judgments about things you don’t fully understand?

There are many, many other ripples in the story, but all of these things spread wider than any of the characters expect.

Anyway, it’s Tartan Day, so back to Scotland. The photos in this post are my own, taken in 2008 when we went on a whirlwind Scotland, Ireland, England trip. The guy to the left is not a Rehearsal character (so far). He stood guard over dinner in a Medieval Castle dungeon.

The guy at the top is a bagpiper we found upon our entrance into the Highlands. We stopped and talked with him (yes, you have to love that accent!) and got our photos taken and picked up a Highland Sounds CD.

Along the way, everyone we met was incredibly friendly and it’s hard to go anywhere else and see as many smiles as we did across Scotland. Maybe that’s because we were so happy to be there they were laughing at us. Or because their Whisky is THAT good. (In Scotland, it is whisky, not whiskey.)

Although I began writing this series looooong before I ever visited Scotland, our trip provided some luscious detail that has been and will be included more here and there as it fits. (To the left is me along Loch Ness.)

Now what I need for the series is to tour with a rock band so I can to add to my internet research with more luscious details. Okay, that’s not likely, but then I never expected to meet the BCR, either, and in recent years, I have met two of them. No, they are not like the characters I created to work with the story. Hm, well, maybe bits and pieces are similar. ;-)


Happy Tartan Day to all Scottish Americans! And to all who love Scotland and all things tartan for whatever reason.

Here’s an excerpt from Rehearsal: A Different Drummer when Susie meets the Scottish interloper for the first time:

~~ ~~ ~~

As Susie walked beside him, she did her best not to let her nervousness show. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t been nervous when she met the other guys; well, not very. And she was nineteen now, not sixteen as she’d been on her first visit.

The guitarist’s eyes remained on her face. They were gorgeous: bright blue, with long lashes, and so shockingly direct. She generally didn’t like stubble on a man’s chin, but his accentuated his ruggedness. Maybe that wasn’t the right word. It was more ... a sensual aura. As she had felt at a greater distance, the man truly emitted pure sensuality.

“Suse, this is Duncan O’Neil. Susie Brooks.”

She barely heard Evan, but she already knew his friend’s name.

He extended a hand without releasing her eyes. “It is a pleasure.”

She felt the calluses on his fingers as he gripped her hand firmly, but carefully, as though trying not to hurt her. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you finally, since I’ve heard so much.” Good. She had managed to keep her voice from shaking.

He glanced at Evan with a slightly raised eyebrow, just one. It was adorable.

“I know you remember me talking about Susie.” Evan touched her back again, her lower back: a possessive touch that didn’t make much sense, considering.

Duncan noticed and released her hand. He studied her as though trying to remember. Evan obviously hadn’t talked about her much.

“My friend from Pennsylvania. I wrote that she moved out here.”

Now, a sign of recognition. “The one your mum took care of?” He tilted his head with a touch of a frown. “He did no’ describe you well. I was picturing a young girl, which you are no’.”

A young girl? Was that how Evan saw her?

“I can no’ imagine why anyone would no’ want you around.”

Susie pulled her eyes away in hopes he wouldn’t see the warmth she could feel crawling into her cheeks. Why was he getting to her? It wasn’t as though she had never received a compliment from a guy. She’d received plenty, but most had only been lines, not real.

“I am sorry. I did no’ mean t’ embarrass you.”

She forced an imitation calm and grinned at him. “No, it’s ... I was thinking the same thing ... about you... I mean...” Cursing herself silently, she shook her head and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week. What I mean is ... Mike was just giving you a hard time. You fit with the band well. I hope you’ll stay and give it a try.”

“Hey, that is a compliment, coming from Susie.” Stu jumped in and nudged Duncan’s shoulder. “She’s the one who always has an objection for everyone we audition.”

Duncan barely glanced at Stu and his eyes were back on her. “D’ you hang with the band much?”

Band talk. She could handle that. “Pretty often. Whenever I’m not working.”

“In that case, I migh’ just hang around a while.”

Rehearsal: The Series
- A Different Drummer
- The Highest Aim
- Of Chaotic Currents
- books 4-6 still to come

LKHunsaker.com/Rehearsal/main.htm

Technorati Tags: Rehearsal,fiction,music,70s,Seventies,romance,Tartan Day,Scotland,books,BCR,Bay City Rollers

Congrats to and News from 3 fellow authors

First, I have to yell a big CONGRATULATIONS to a fellow author and long-time close friend, Andra Marquardt, who just won the Speculative fiction category of the Genesis Award at the American Christian Fiction Writers conference! I know how much she struggles to get her work “just right” and not just done, how much she studies the craft, how much she has to say within her work that’s worth hearing … and I have to say we have exchanged some critiquing along the way. The beginning of Off The Moon benefitted from her sharp eyes.

Visit her website here, and check the winners list of the ACFW Genesis Awards here.

~~~

Also, a congrats to Dawn Colclasure for her recent story acceptance in an anthology. It’s not hardly her first, but I have to mention it here because after two rejections of the story, Dawn didn’t give up. She pinpointed the problem the editor mentioned, was willing to ask for advice and used it, and tried again. This time, it worked.

I’ve seen so many authors who ask for critiques and then balk at suggestions, sometimes not nicely, as though they have no room to improve. A writer who believes that is true, wherever they are in their career, will go no farther. So kudos to Dawn!

Find Dawn at her website and watch for her coming revisions book (of which I have a small part in, btw).

~~~

Finally, some news from a fellow author. Today is release day for Sharon Donovan’s newest book, Her Biggest Fan. Unfortunately, Sharon is in the hospital with health issues and can’t be around online today to promote. A fellow Pennsylvanian with whom I’ve had some contact in the past several months, Sharon writes award-winning romance in various subgenres. The newest is a romantic thriller.

Find her books on her website. Congrats on the newest release, Sharon! And get well soon!

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A Cold and Scenic Travelogue

There’s nothing like a cool, crisp morning that turns into a sunny warm day for a day-long ride on the back of a Harley. You see more from a bike than from a car or truck. You see not only the road beneath, but the sides of the road and the birds overhead. You feel the change of the air as it shifts from pavement-reflected warmth along the interstate to cooler and fresher along little tree-lined roads. You know without looking when you’re passing by or bridging over a stream or river because of the sudden moist chill in the air and the smell of the water. You’re more fully connected with and part of nature on a bike, even more so than rolling all four windows of your car down and allowing the wind to gush in and cause a racket.

Of course, then there are those days when a cool, crisp morning turns into a cloudy, colder, rainy day. That’s not great bike weather, and you better hope you’ve remembered to pack your rain gear, but a cold, damp day on a bike is still more soul-refreshing than a day in a car.

This is true even when you’re easily cold and completely un-enamored with being cold and if it takes you two days to warm up again.

Over the weekend, that’s the kind of day my husband and I had when we agreed to meet a friend from New York (state, not city) and have lunch and cruise around in between our two home areas. We started off chilly, drove up into the rain, and kept counting on the weather prediction of clearing skies and 70 degrees. Neither happened.

Ah well. We still put over 340 miles on the bike in one day and I, of course, had my camera in hand. Here’s some of what we saw:

As it’s mid-September, the trees in northwestern PA are turning all shades of fall. The hovering mist and clouds interfere a bit with the crispness of the colors, but it does add a soft variation.

Our meeting point was a little NY town called Hamburg where I had some incredible chocolate chip pancakes (yes, I splurged) and coffee to add fuel for the rest of the day. From there, we moved down farther south through back roads and farm land and Amish country.   

A tip: while in Amish country on a bike, watch carefully for slippery obstructions from the horses! We managed to avoid this pitfall, thank goodness!

Heading toward Jamestown, we were treated to a few pretty lakes and ponds. Have I said how much I love water? As we passed by, I thought this would be a wonderful place to set a chair and sit and write or read or daydream (writers must daydream, after all) on a warmer, dryer day.

Of course, while riding, you can’t pull out a map and ask your passenger where to go from wherever you are, so at one point we pulled into the parking lot of a little marina and grabbed the map from the tour pack. This is somewhere along route 62 and I think we were still in NY.

Had I known that next door to Jamestown is a little town called Lakewood, NY, I would have asked the guys to take a little buzz over in that direction so I could get a photo of the town sign. Why? Rehearsal is set in Lakewood. Okay, so my Lakewood is actually a fictional town in Massachusetts, but it would still be fun to post the town sign that matches my imaginary town. Yes, I’m easily amused.

I also wished I’d had the camera ready when we passed someone’s yard. They had a sign advertising something that had “Aim High” in big letters. [A- hem.. Highest Aim] *shrug*

Moving along, the parking area was bordered by alternating rows of these shrubs. I’ve no idea what they are, but they are beautiful. Aren’t they?

As this was quite the long trip and I’m being rather long-winded about sharing it, I’ll save the rest for tomorrow.


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Fun Finds: Fairly Fascinating?

Okay, how many of you Google yourselves? Admit it. Hands up and wave big.

My hand is waving big. I guess I better since I not only Google myself, but also my book titles. Every day I get a few alerts that “match” my alert phrase. This can actually be fairly fascinating if you take the time to look at them other than to see they have absolutely no relevance to you at all. (Well, now and then they do.)

It’s kind of cool what you can find. For instance, some of today’s finds:

key term: Finishing Touches

related url: Doing the Math

relevance: Amy is an avid reader who blogs about books she reads. Alas, this has absolutely no relevance to me other than the similar book title she did read – The Finishing Touches by Hester Browne. Yes, well, I have seen this book around here and there. No, I haven’t read it, but I’ve heard good things so maybe I eventually will. What makes this a fascinating find is that if you skim through Amy’s posts, I dare you not to chuckle at least once. Another blog to bookmark, I dare say. She runs the gamut, all on the one page of the blog, from Respiratory Therapy to guys’ butts. Seriously. Check it out.

key term: Protect The Heart

related url: http://ribguards.zonblog.com/ancient-explorers-discovered-unique-native-nut-trees-growing-in-america/

relevance: Um, it’s related because nuts protect the heart with all the good stuff within. There’s so much I could say about this in relation to a romance novel, but it isn’t really relevant (and it’s also not related to the above post about guys’ butts, but with a good imagination, it could be). Check this one out if you want to explore everything you ever wanted to know about nuts, including Thomas Jefferson’s Illinois nuts. Hmm…

key term: Off The Moon

[There was a fairly fascinating link to a blog asking what happens if an astronaut is bit by a werewolf before he goes to the moon, but my computer thinks it may be a spam site, so I won’t post the url. Still, if one of you paranormal experts would like to field this one, I’d be fascinated by your hypothesis.]

So, moving on…

related url: http://paperscaper.blogspot.com/2010/09/broom-rides.html

relevance: Roxie from Michigan creates greeting cards with rubber stamps and such. I found the “Broom Rides” title to this particular blog that mentions how she “Masked off the moon” both funny and not-so-appropriate that Google found it related to my novel. I also found it interesting that she’s a retired landscape designer (shades of Alan from Finishing Touches) and donates cards … to soldiers, ill children, and cancer charities. Many kudos to Roxie.

Our Roxie!

Sometimes, though, it does turn out relevant!

key term: LK Hunsaker

related url:  Supersonic Jet Style

relevance: Ms. Savanna Kougar is wonderful about sharing happenings about other authors and I commonly find my name listed on her blog (how much do I owe you now, Savanna??). Warning: this is an 18+ blog, so enter only if you are at least 18.

In this instance, Savanna is generously listing my Monday blog post on Lindsay’s Romantics titled Libraries, Ireland, and the Book of Kells – click to read!

And um, if you’re ‘of age’ and enjoyed the guys’ butts and nuts references above, you might enjoy the imagery on Savanna’s post, even if you don’t read it. The image itself is safe, relatively.

If you haven’t had enough blog hopping yet, I’m also part of Classic Romance Revival’s brand new blog with a “Where Do You Write” theme. Want to see our work areas? Hop on over and check them out. (Mine has photos because I’m photo obsessed – sorry, no guy mentions. This time. Both of my posts are very much all age appropriate. This time.)

My flowering almond in spring, just because I love this photo of it. *shrug* 
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Oh, and if anyone wants to be a real sweetheart and help my downloads of the story I added to Smashwords just two weeks ago hit 100 today (or tomorrow), click the link and download it free! Toward The Sky is a very short glance inside the life of Daws, a young vet, as he meets the love of his life. Heck, if you want to be super sweet, leave it a review, also!

Back to life.. Back to Reality..

I know those are song lyrics, but I couldn’t tell you the song or who sang it. Can someone fill in the blanks without looking it up?

School is starting again. We have a couple of weeks or so to go since we start later than most, and later than before. When we moved here at the start of my son’s Freshman year,  he started several days late because we didn’t get here until the end of August and they’d already started. Poor kid had to be a new student and a late new student at the beginning of his HS career. But then, they were out by the end of May, as most are.

The next year, my sister planned her wedding at the beginning of June, in Illinois (my home state). No problem, I said. School ends the end of May.

Ah well, that year they decided to change dates and didn’t start until after Labor Day, which meant they weren’t out until the first week of June, which meant I had to pull him out to miss the last days of his second year of high school. (It’s an all day drive to get there from here, and as one of the matrons of honor, I couldn’t pull in last minute.)

At the time, those events caused me some deal of stress. I’m a rule follower. If school is in session, it means you’re there unless ill enough you can’t stay on your feet (“You’ll feel just as bad at home as you do at school/work.” – a family motto of sorts).  Same with work. I heard a song on the radio this morning about calling in with a fake illness in order to take the day off. I literally cringed. Unless I can’t stay on my feet, I’m where I’m supposed to be, even when it’s just at my desk at home trying to stay upright just to get that chapter finished by my self-imposed deadline.

Okay, maybe that is pushing it too extreme, but in these times when our social services don’t get taken care of because the county’s budget hasn’t been passed yet, and those in charge are still leaving at 1:00 in the afternoon to go play golf or whatever (maybe a slight exaggeration – they might stay until 4, and I mean lots of places are doing the same, not only my own), I miss the days when more people had that “get it done” work ethic.

The other day, I picked up a children’s book. The reason I picked it up is because when I checked out the few I was buying for myself, the clerk asked if I’d like to donate a book to the children’s drive to help them learn to read. I’m a sucker for those and one of the books put up to select from was “The Little Engine That Could” – what better to provide to a child learning (likely behind schedule) something that can be difficult for many of them?

As I left the store, I realized I didn’t have that one on my children’s shelf at home. I have quite a few, mainly from the discount bins (where they were rescued cheaply from a certain fiery death) in preparation for future grandchildren. (Future, as in not expected for some time, with any luck.)  So I went back to buy it. (I’m not much of a shopper until I find a book, music, or office store, so I let myself splurge on those.)

I was asked once, if I could choose one book to have the whole world have to read, what would it be? I think I said “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran (“Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life’s yearning for itself.”)  Maybe I would change my mind now, though. Maybe I would have to answer:

The Little Engine That Could

Yes, it’s an optimist book. Yes, I’ve been called Pollyanna more than once. *shrug* But I’ve also recently been looking through my old high school things and shook my head at how often I used to attempt things I should have known wouldn’t happen. Cheerleading (much too shy), Homecoming court (laughing out loud at that one: too much of a nerdy bookworm), Basketball my senior year though I’d never played before (yeah so as a senior, I barely played JV), Asking a couple of guys to a dance (Ha! again, shy enough I didn’t even speak to them otherwise)…  and the list goes on.

Did it matter whether or not I was there for the first or last days of school or how many sick days I had? I couldn’t even remember those things. I did find a report card showing a D in social studies one term (I HATED memorizing dates!)  and then winding up on the honor roll with a B in the same class later that year.

Most of all, what I got out of looking back was that I kept trying despite the odds. It’s horribly hard for a very shy girl with unknown ADD to accomplish much in school. And yet, I ended up on the Top Ten with a ton of activities under my name in the yearbook.

The Little Engine That Could was always one of my favorites, and I took it to heart.

Those days don’t seem real to me anymore, at least not very. I’ve done things since then I never could have imagined doing. I went from horribly dependent on my family to being completely on my own with my kids much of my life while my military husband was away doing as his country asked. I’m still away, and still doing much on my own as he has the same work ethic I have and is still doing as his employer asks (well past 4pm, btw). For me, this is reality. It’s not good or bad; it just is. I now have the advantage of seeing things from both viewpoints, dependent and independent, and I try to use it all in my work to share, as well as passing as much as I can to my children, and later to my grandchildren.

This year, my son (my baby) is a senior. As he begins this transitional year toward what he will be, I can’t help wonder what he will take with him most. How will he look back and see these days? What will happen to define him? He’s much more social than I was, and yet has taken part in only two school activities, one of which he gave up last year. He’s more of a rebel than I was, and much more confident. I find it amusing that he’s in that “group” I couldn’t begin to understand during my own HS days, and yet, now I do, at least to an extent. I admire them more now than I did then.

All around me, I see adults who I’m sure have remained the people they were in high school, who still view everything from that one perspective, whose kids follow in their own footsteps. I suppose that makes it easier to figure them out and help them along, but I enjoy this widened perspective, even if many days I think Zeller Zone sounds like a good idea.

So what about you? Are you the same person you were in school?

If you could choose one book for everyone to read, what would it be? Maybe I’ll check it out.

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Marketing: Festivals and Fairs!

Last weekend, I took part in our local Victorian Festival weekend. Even as an inhibited marketer, fairs and festivals are a great way to get out there and meet readers. If there’s a group of you, that’s better yet.

I lucked out. Our Chamber of Commerce representative is very author supportive, and there are quite a few of us in the area, of different genres. She sent info out and a couple of us sent it along to other authors we knew, and there were soon between 8 and 10 signed up. We didn’t leave it as a booth only. We did a float.

Things were a bit scattered in the planning of our first ever local authors float, but the few of us who found our feet in this venture pulled it together well enough one of the other parade entries said we should win best float. We didn’t, but that wasn’t why we were there. We were making ourselves known.

I’m a bit of an obsessive type. Okay, maybe more than a bit. Either way, I didn’t just find a Victorian-like outfit to wear on the float, but I spent days ahead of time printing out copies of short stories and excerpts for the booth, along with creating the big posters that were to go on each side of the float to say who we were. And, while deciding what I could throw as advertisement for the brand new author booth during the parade, trying to stay with the “olden days” feel, an idea snapped into my brain.

Paper airplanes.

You know, like those used in old makeshift entertainment days before Game Boys and iPods. We (and yes I’m old enough to have done it, also) used to grab old pieces of paper and shape them into airplanes. It’s funny how long this simple game could amuse us. The perfect thing for an old-time float, I figured. And what better to make them from than some old flyers I have sitting around here that haven’t been used.

Figure in the wind factor before considering throwing paper airplanes from a moving float, by all means, as at least one came back directly at us. Overall, though, they went over great! I threw one and kids down the line asked for their own.

Of course, this idea might be best for children’s books, but maybe some of their parents actually looked at what was written inside the planes. Either way, it mixed books with fun. That’s an attention getter. My idea of stapling cheap printer made business cards with my info and a plea to come see us at the author’s booth to pieces of wrapped candy worked less well. They were hard to throw out far enough. Never fear, I also had plenty of candy without the cards attached.

Another author on the float threw pencils, which I had considered and opted instead for the planes. Pencils are a good idea, especially if they have your name and website engraved on them.

So, the float was a lot of fun and attracted attention for the booth.

At the booth, things were much slower. A lot of people come to fairs just to browse and enjoy walking around being sociable. There didn’t appear to be very many buyers at any of the booths. (Although the guy creating metal birdhouse stake-holders and such did well, judging by how many walked away!)

Some of my fellow authors were disappointed at the lack of sales. I wasn’t. That’s not because mine were better, but because I didn’t expect a lot in the first place. We’re unknowns. Books are rather expensive these days. It’s a risk for buyers, most of whom now are economy-concerned.

What I mainly went there to do was to get my name out farther. That, I did. Armed with free stories and excerpts, plus pencils and bookmarks, I said hello to anyone who approached, gave them some time to look, then offered a writing sample to take with them. Of course, I do always maintain hope of good sales, and I always take many more books with me than I need, but hope is good as long as reality is mixed with it.

I did sell books. Even if the quantity was low, those are books I would not have sold if I hadn’t bothered to try. And how many of those who took the free reads will look me up at the local places I mentioned where they were available, or online, and buy there? I can’t know. I can know that I was out there spreading my name. I also met a lot of readers and had some nice conversations. I even managed to do it without the rapid pulse and red face that has normally come about with public appearances: a wonderful step up for the truly social phobic.

I have to mention how much of the fun of the weekend was simply hanging out with other authors and talking craft and ideas, along with anything else that came to mind. I hope it will be a continuing tradition.

So much of marketing is name recognition. I strongly believe that reviews, awards, and “best seller” status is much less important than someone seeing your name and recognizing it.

By the way, at this point, I’ve moved up to #19 on the Smashwords most viewed authors list and sales have grown. Something is still working.

Oh, and the sweater in the photo above to give myself a more Victorian look? It was on long enough for the photo. Sweaters, even light ones, are not meant for 90-some degree days and high humidity. I can’t imagine how the Victorian ladies and gentleman managed.
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A Basket of Romance

A Basket is up for grabs at the Mercer PA newly renovated library!

Actually, 6 baskets with 6 different themes are up for raffle, donated by library patrons. The one I took in is shown above: a bit of romance by CRR authors.

As a Friend of the Library, I received the call for themed basket donations in the newsletter and decided to go for romance and reading!

I put out the call a few weeks before the basket was due and am so very grateful to the Classic Romance Revival authors who donated books, ebooks, pens, and postcards to represent CRR!

The basket contains:

Print Books by CRR authors:

One Small Victory by Maryann Miller
Samael by Marion DeSisto
Turning To Nature by Marion DeSisto
Protect The Heart by LK Hunsaker
Finishing Touches by LK Hunsaker
Destination Berlin by S. G. Cardin
The Giving Meadow by Stephanie Burkhart
The Duke’s Dilemma by Rachel McNeely 
The Best Selling Toy by Elaine Cantrell
A Knight’s Vow by Lindsay Townsend (donated by LK Hunsaker)
A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing by Deborah McGillivray (donated by LK Hunsaker)

Print Books by non-CRR authors (donated by S. G. Cardin):
Dragon Lair by Sharon K. Penman
Loving A Lost Lord by Mary Jo Putney

Ebooks on CD:

Turtle Soup by Danielle Thorne
Frontier Wife by Margaret Tanner
Holly and the Millionaire by Margaret Tanner
Thin Ice by Liana Laverentz (Liana also donated 2 print books for the library to keep!)
Tarbaby Trouble by Phoebe Matthews
The Cupid Diaries “Moments in Time” – short stories by CRR Authors

Promo Items:

Pens and postcards from Stephanie Burkhart (aka S.G. Cardin)
Postcards from Phoebe Matthews
Pencils and postcards from LK Hunsaker
Flyers from Maryann Miller

Also included:

A CD sampler with the first two chapters of Finishing Touches by LK Hunsaker along with the song included in the novel: Love Is Yours And Mine by Duncan Faure, autographed by Duncan

A large red “Rose Garden” candle custom made for the basket by SchoolCornerCrafts.com

A few Hershey Kisses for flavor ;-)

So if you’re in the Mercer County area and would love a little romance and reading break, grab raffle tickets at the library! And be sure to check out the authors above who so generously donated to help build the library’s fund! (All romances in the basket are on the classic side. Check CRR for details.)

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Toward The Sky: Into Each Life

Fred Dawson yanked his face from the onslaught of cold water thrown by a passing car, but otherwise, he didn’t bother to acknowledge it. After what he’d been through the past few months, icy dirty water gushing over him was almost laughable. Except he’d yet found a good reason, or even the tiniest excuse, to laugh since he’d been home.

Home. He supposed it was home. It was at least as close as he had. Why he sat on a saturated wooden bench alongside the road past one a.m., in the rain no less, when he had a comfortable warm apartment waiting for him was anyone’s guess.

Truth be told, he did know. He would never admit it to anyone, but he did know. Life brimmed to the top out here. It was everywhere he looked. Normalcy. Shops with closed signs in the windows, the edges highlighted by security lights within. An all-night convenience gas station with an occasional customer stopping and dashing through the rain to get whatever he had to have at this time of the morning. Protection from a last-minute romantic encounter, maybe. A case of beer to get through the rest of the dark before daylight.

And the rain. It had a life of its own as well as producing and supporting life. He watched it run along the road in search of a drain to empty into. He focused on how it panged his bare arms and slid off, leaving goose bumps in its wake. He blinked it off his eyelashes, tasted its crispness on his lips.

The wet cold held a magnificence he would never be able to explain to anyone who hadn’t been out there in the desert, in the dry cold, the lifeless cold. The cold from which there was no escape, even huddled around the heater in the center of the tent. He never bothered to huddle. It did no good. Even when his outside was warm, his inner core was always cold.

~~
So starts Toward The Sky, my short moment in time story accepted by Classic Romance Revival for its premiere anthology.

Rain is an oft-used metaphorical device in fiction. There is so much it can say to a reader without having to actually say it. We’re all familiar with the verse: “Into each life, a little rain must fall.” Sometimes, it’s much more than a little. Some of us feel too many torrential downfalls or too often.

At the start of Toward The Sky, Daws has just come home from a very long deluge and sitting in the rain inviting it is a reflection of both his past and his personality. At some point, the strong who have been drenched often enough already simply raise their hands and say, “Okay then, bring it on.” This is Daws.

I stole Daws for Toward The Sky. He is actually the antagonist in my November 2009 novel, Off The Moon. That’s the one where Ryan, my young pop star with much to learn, is thwarted in his attempts to be as self-centered as he wants to be (or as part of him wants to be) by his bodyguard, Fred Dawson, aka Daws. There is more to the story of Daws and his relationship with Ryan than I could put in the novel, however, and so, this story came about to re-introduce him. This November during Nanowrimo, I plan to write his story, a love and redemption story, as well as a deeper look into Ryan’s past.

In the meantime, if you’re interested in reading this 2,000 word romance to find out what happens to Daws while he’s sitting in the rain along the street at the dead of night, go check out CRR’s The Cupid Diaries: Moments In Time. For only $2.99, you get stories by 13 different authors. It’s a great way to find “new to you” authors of all different romance subgenres. 

And be sure to follow the mini blog carnival this week and read entries by some of the other anthology authors about their contributions!

http://www.classicromancerevival.com/blog/?p=1782

CRR will draw 10 winners from those commenting on the blogs during the carnival to win a copy of The Cupid Diaries, so be sure to let the authors know you stopped by!

Oh, and just as the rain, that so often signifies sorrow and distress in fiction and yet feeds the earth’s soul, my fiction often deals with sorrow and distress, but it always ends upbeat, and it hopefully leaves a bit of food for the reader’s soul.
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Protect The Heart: Released!

Abraham slung his backpack over his shoulders and headed down the dusty road toward town. His father asked to take him. Begged, nearly. But Abe didn’t want his goodbye, which could be his final goodbye, to be at the train depot. He wanted it at home, on their farm, where by all rights he should have been helping with chores. His father would manage without him. He had always managed. Even through the torturous years of watching Abraham’s mother drift away through the mind-dissolving dementia and then finally leave them for good, his father had managed.

Abraham hoped with every part of his soul he would return to the farm, to his father, and be there to help him manage during his aging days. It would be soon. Charles Luchner showed signs of slowing. It hurt Abe to see it. It would hurt him more to have to see his father watch him leave on that train, standing on the platform managing to control his sadness, his fear.

At the edge of his property, he kicked a rock out of his path. The long walk into town would do him good, help him prepare for what was to come. Not that he wasn’t prepared already. Constant farm chores without machinery to make them easier had built his strength and stamina well. Days of rising before the roosters to take care of the crops and the cows, and to move lines in bitter cold air and knee deep snow and in the hottest times of the summer made him sturdy. He didn’t figure war would be much harder, physically. What he wasn’t sure of was how disruptive it would be to his mind. He had no qualm about fighting as needed. He was raised to stand up for himself and those around him and did so without hesitation. And now he was proud to do it for his country. He’d never actually taken a life, though. He knew how to avoid that risk during a fight.

His father told him to be someone else out there, to tell himself he was doing good and that sometimes evil was necessary to prevent worse evil. “Never let it make you feel bad about who you are.” Charles Luchner’s voice echoed in his thoughts. “Remember your heart is in the right place and that’s what matters.” Lives came and went. They always would. The heart is what lasted. Protect the heart, he’d said.

Abraham adjusted his backpack in an imitation of adjusting his thoughts and wondered how soon his father would find the wood carving at the back side of the house. He’d done it in secret as a message for when he wasn’t there. A heart. Enclosed within hands inside an image of the farm, their farm. Abe engraved it in the back of the wooden bench swing he’d made while he kept it hidden in a corner of the barn. His father loved to sit out behind the house on nice days and simply look over their land, land passed through generations of his family, worked by many hands who loved their bit of America, as his father said. Before he left, Abe wanted him to have a more comfortable place to do it; a place that would leave a part of himself behind for his father to keep. He’d moved it out to the yard just as dawn was breaking.

As he walked, he eyed the light echo of misty mountains in the distance. There weren’t many trees in Snake River country, at least not in his part of it, in southern Idaho. What were there were rather sparse, as compared to what he’d seen during his travels back east. His father had sent him to see something of the country after he earned his diploma and before he settled in to learn how to take over the farm. Abraham’s thoughts often returned to the long train trip where he jumped off here and there to explore different territories and different people. As much as he loved the travel, he also loved the return to his mountains. To his farm. One day, it would be his. One day after that, he would share it with a family of his own. Anyway, that was his plan.

If he returned.

Tires flying up the gravel road from behind broke his thoughts and he moved into the yellowed weeds. They needed rain. But then, they usually needed rain.

The car stopped. “Get in.”

Abe sighed and looked over at Cameron. He wanted the long walk into town to be alone with his thoughts, to be alone in the circle of his mountains.

“Come on. What’re you walking for, anyway? Old man wouldn’t take you in?”

“He tried. Go on. I’ll meet you in town.”

“Have you lost your marbles? Don’t think we’ll get enough walking when we’re shipped out? Get in.” Cameron reached over to open the passenger door.

It would be pointless to argue. His friend was too stubborn. Abe threw his pack in the back seat and lowered into the front.

“So this should be some grand adventure, hey?” Cam threw the car back into gear and skidded the gravel. “A few nights in town and then off on a hero’s journey. Can’t wait to show up at Maura’s in this uniform. Bet she’ll give in to me when she sees it’s going to be real. Don’t you bet?”

“Don’t know, Cam. Haven’t met her but from what you’ve said, I’d have my doubts.”

“Aw, but she’s just scared I won’t come back, you know. And when she sees that could really be, when I show up looking like a real soldier, she’ll wanta make sure we at least have a couple days. Right?”

Abraham didn’t bother to answer. Nothing he said would matter. If Cameron hadn’t taken Maura’s hints by now, more than hints from the way it sounded, he wouldn’t take them from Abe, either. The girl didn’t want a soldier. She wanted someone who would be around. Abe couldn’t blame her.

“So come on up to her place with me. You should meet, you know. It’s about time you did, as you’re my best friend and she’s my best girl…”

“I’m your only friend, and my guess is she’s not your only girl, which could be part of her objection.”

Cam laughed. “That’s Abe. Always too blunt. No wonder you don’t have a girl. They don’t like that. You gotta learn to sweet talk.”

“Some girl might want blunt instead of roundabout truths that sound good.”

“Yeah, maybe. But not the kind I want.” He turned a corner too sharp.

Abe grabbed the dash. “Why are you in uniform already? We aren’t supposed to be. Not till we’re officially signed and sworn.”

“Didn’t you hear me at all? I’m going to go sweep my gal off her feet. Gotta look real.”

Maybe you should be real instead. Abe didn’t say it. He knew he should say it. But he didn’t. Instead, he watched the horizon, the tumbleweeds drifting in the browned flat fields, the cows in the dairy farm they passed with its odor lingering along with them. The town was barely within his view now, the grain silo at its edge a beacon of sorts.

The day before, he’d spent time along the canyon, wandering its edge, peering down the jagged rocks where not much more than a trickle of water snaked along the bottom of the wide crevice. There wasn’t much water this time of year. The way the little bit of it that went through had dredged such a huge canyon in its wake was a magical thing in Abe’s mind. He’d carved images of it now and then, in tree trunks that ended up shaped like the canyon, at least to some extent. One of them he’d sold to a bank in town. They’d topped it with a piece of thick glass, put the thing on legs, and used it as a welcome table just inside the entrance, complete with a plaque stating the “artist’s” name.

Abe didn’t feel like an artist and so it was kind of embarrassing when people made note of it and asked him what he’d done recently. He liked wood. He liked working with his hands. He loved nature. And so the wood carvings just slipped out. He’d sold a couple of other pieces, smaller, that became wall hangings or shelf decorations. He didn’t charge much. His father said he should increase his price, as much as people liked his work. But he would do it even if no one bought it, so he figured getting a few dollars here and there for things he didn’t know what to do with as he finished them was good enough.

He had packed his carving tools, though. He hoped they’d be allowed to travel with him. If not, he’d drop them by the bank to be returned to his father next time he was in town.

~~~
So begins Protect The Heart, a home front novel of duty, love, and honor.

This was fully a “write what you know” story, focused on the young woman left at home and swirling around two different kinds of soldiers.

It is also a fair bit different than my other four novels, a short read at 198 pgs (trade paperback), with old-fashioned language, and largely historical, but without a certain historical period pinned down. I’m anxious for readers’ opinions.

As it is a military story, I decided to help support military organizations with it in some way. So, for starters:

$1.00 of each print sale directly from Elucidate Publishing, &

$2.00 of each ebook sale directly from Smashwords

will go to BooksforBoots.org, to help loved ones of injured service members pay expenses to visit. I’ll also send books along to help fill their recovery time.

~~
The book is so new, I’ve yet to add the website for it; however, you can find it at ElucidatePublishing.net and I have posts on two other blogs so far, the first with a different excerpt, and the second with a “behind the scenes” look:

http://lindsaysromantics.blogspot.com

http://www.classicromancerevival.com/blog

If you are part of an organization that supports the military and would like to arrange a virtual signing for Protect The Heart in support of your group, contact me through the Elucidate Publishing contact page.

If you would like to help pass the word along and take bookmarks to your local library or independent bookstore, I’d be glad to give you free shipping on the print version or put the pdf version on a cd to mail, each would be personally signed. Use the contact page to inquire.

~~

Entrenched on his father's farm in southern Idaho's Snake River Valley, Abraham Luchner pulls up roots to join the war effort. Joined by his friend Cameron Terry, an impulsive adventure seeker, Abe determines to sever ties at home in order to minimize distractions. His greatest connection with his beloved canyon and farm is in the form of charcoal sketches he works on each night to escape his present conditions, as well as the letters Cameron reads aloud from his beloved.

Maura Laerty has been claimed as Cameron's betrothed in the eyes of the community. Determined not to become a war widow or caregiver of one more soul who needs her ongoing assistance, she refuses his proposal, at least until he returns. Despite her efforts, Maura soon finds herself saddled with responsibilities that tax her resolve and turn the townspeople away. Her greatest ally comes from a twist of fate as winding and unpredictable as the great Snake River itself.

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Book Review: Still Alice

Still Alice
Lisa Genova
Pocket Books 2009
www.StillAlice.com

I picked up Still Alice because it was my library's book club selection this month. I'd never heard of Lisa Genova, but by the time I finished the novel, I was glad to know she's working on another.

Alice is a 50 year old psychology professor at Harvard who has co-authored a text book with her husband, a research scientist, and has established an incredible reputation as not only a preferred teacher but also as a world-traveled speaker. As she celebrates her birthday, she is struggling with memory issues and even starting to get lost close to home in an area she's very familiar with. Going privately to a neurologist, she is diagnosed with early onset alzheimer's disease.

Since Alice is the POV character, you have to wonder how Genova will continue to follow her story as Alice lapses further into the disease. I was rather impressed with how well she managed to show the early struggles as well as the progression. All of the characters are well drawn from Alice's POV and we get to know some of them better than others. I found it interesting that the child she says she knows the least is the one we know the most. The other two are mainly background.

Her husband, John, is an interesting character and at times, I wanted to yell at him for being so self-centered, but then looking back at their history, I couldn't help but think Alice partly made him that way with her work obsession. The novel is a nice look at marriage-combined-with-work issues, as well as the dementia issue.

From the beginning, we bond with Alice. Anyone who has ever been so busy finding a set of keys seems an impossible task will relate. This makes us truly sympathetic of her plight and we pull for her to keep going, keep trying. As we do, we learn much about Alzheimers and how it progresses and how they are working to find ways to slow or stop it. There is also information about how to keep the brain healthy in general.

At times, the writing is a bit stiff, especially at the beginning, but Genova is a first time novelist and I believe she may find her stride with the next.
This is a must read for anyone dealing with dementia in a loved one, anyone with dementia in their family history, as well as for anyone who wants to better understand this disease. It is truly educational and heartwarming and sad and hopeful all at once.

Note: Genova self-pubbed Still Alice when she couldn't find a publisher for it. She went through iUniverse and also contacted the National Alzheimer's Association for a possible endorsement, got their agreement, won a couple of indie awards, and Pocket Books picked it up. She recommends other authors self-pub instead of letting their manuscripts languish.

This review is from a book I purchased and no compensation has been offered or received.

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Plugging the Hydrant

“Talking is a hydrant in the yard and writing is a faucet upstairs in the house. Opening the first takes the pressure off the second.”
Robert Frost

Robert Frost is somewhat featured in Off The Moon. Of course we all know he was an exceptional poet, but if you read through some of his quotes, you see that he was also a man of much common sense and intelligence with wonderful advice for living as well as writing.

My luster and drive for throwing myself into my stories and essays has been waning. At the same time, I’ve been throwing myself into reconnecting with old friends and talking with new and trying to keep up with everyone’s goings on. I enjoy it. Honestly. However, it has become that hydrant that’s such a danger to writing.

I’ve realized that for some time but expected I could find a way to balance it. So far, that hasn’t happened. My writing isn’t going where I want it to go. My chatting (partly with promo as an excuse) is becoming more predominant than my work. And a recent event has made me step back and realize I need to reconfigure.

I started writing back when I didn’t have enough communication. It was a constantly running faucet that relieved the emotional valve. It made for full, vivid stories packed with meaning and sub-meaning because all of my repressed thoughts came out in my work. Now, too often, they come out during chats and ramblings and it releases too much of that pressure I want in my work.

So, if I’m not around the lists or social networks much for a while, you can find me here – hopefully with better and deeper entries – and in my books. I have two I want out this year. They need my attention and my intensity. I also have a couple of other projects that have been on the back burner: projects that I believe will touch more people than I can with my little here-and-there ramblings.

I’m spread too thin. I need a narrower base of operations. This blog will be the main source. There’s also my quarterly newsletter (sign up is on my website). If you comment here or in my guest book, I’ll be around to answer. I can’t guarantee that elsewhere. Some of my miscellaneous projects will either be closing or transferred to others. The holes leading to water leaks need to be welded and the most important things I need to say are in my work.

There is a sign up to be notified of new blog entries to the right. It is only used for that – your email will not be shared. Please subscribe to my updates if you want to know of new entries, or become a fan at Facebook where these entries will filter automatically. Click Here or search LK Hunsaker.

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As for actual news:

Today is the release date for Classic Romance Revival’s “Cupid Diaries” anthology for romance lovers. My story “Toward The Sky” is included for their premiere issue. As it relates to Off The Moon, I’ve sent it about as promo for the novel and have received some very nice comments. Find the anthology here: Cupid Diaries: Moments in Time

“Fiction is to the grown man what play is to the child; it is there that he changes the atmosphere and tenor of his life.”
Robert Louis Stevenson
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Happy Birthday, Grandpa. May I be able to leave as beautiful a legacy as you did.

A Musical Moment: the 70s

I was a child of the Seventies. Now, when most say that, they mean their late teen and early twenties years were during the Seventies and they were smack in the midst of the hippie revolution. I mean I was a child during the Seventies and my teen years began right at the tail end of that decade. But, I was always kind of old for my age and when I was ten, I fell right into that music-obsessed teen-like musician worship stage. Anyway, it seemed to me that all teens and pre-teens were music obsessed and that all conversation centered around who was hot at the moment and who had the better voice/most skill.

Since those days, I've come to realize that isn't true: not everyone centered their teen worlds on music. Unbelievable, though it may be.

They say scent is the strongest neumonic; nothing brings recall better than a familiar scent. Maybe that's true for most, but for me, nothing will bring back a moment in time more than a song, or a band, or even a musical style. Take the Super Bowl halftime show. I don't watch football, but my son called me out when The Who came on. Suddenly, I was swept back in time to when their songs were on the radio and I was in my parents' home locked away in my bedroom working on something to keep my hands busy just as an excuse to be lost in the music. The Who played a mix of some of their top songs and while some were knocking how "old" they are and how "bad" the sound was, I could only think how cool it was to see them perform and be swept away to the past. And to be fair, they gave a strong performance for a band that came out in the mid Sixties.

It was great to share the experience with my son who is older than I was when The Who was on the radio. He was impressed. For "old guys" they played well and were full of energy, which surprised the sixteen year old with tons of his own. He commented on how good the drummer was and how cool the stage looked. See? This is a kid after my own heart. He gets it. It's not only entertainment; it's an experience. [He also found it cool that their drummer for the show was none other than Zak Starkey, Ringo's kid.]

How can you go through your teen years without falling for a particular band, or a particular musician? Music captures moments of time that can't be captured in any other way, and teens are primed and ready for this musical moment-stealing.

I was swept away by many singers and many bands during those awkward years. Donny and Leif and Andy and David, plus Styx and Journey and Chicago and Air Supply … I could spend as much time with them as I could pull from homework and chores and they were always there waiting. Granted, most of the albums belonged to my big sis since she had babysitting money, but as we shared a room and she was a loving big sis, I got to use her record player and her albums.

I still vividly remember the day she brought home a new album of a band I'd never heard of. I thought they were rather odd-looking, to tell the truth, not as cute as Andy and Donny, but still, there was something fascinating about them I couldn't put my finger on (other than their odd clothing choice). And then she played the album. I was grabbed in a way no other music had ever grabbed me.

I've talked with many adults recently who were big fans of the band, as well, and so often I hear it was their looks that were the big attraction. Hmm.. I'm one of the youngest fans and no, it wasn't their looks for me. Heck, I was ten at the time or right at that. Boys were still only undecipherable creatures and interesting but rather annoying (apologies to my little brother, but he understands). It was the music.

As I grew, I moved into the Eighties with Hall & Oates and Madonna and Michael Jackson and Tears For Fears and Julian Lennon, but that band remained number one on my list. Why? Who Knows? Something about them spoke to me. In fact, it spoke loudly enough, it became a story. What were they really like past the media hoopla? What was it like to tour and live in hotels and buses and be stuck with each other for months at a time? Did they get along behind the scenes? What about girlfriends? How do you have one with that kind of lifestyle?

The questions festered until I had to start answering them. No, I didn't stalk the band. They disappeared and all that was left were those albums and the posters previously smothering our bedroom wall and then tucked safety into folders. I was stuck in a little town in the Midwest going to school and family functions. In my head, though, I was on the road. It moved well past questions about that one band to being about a band in general, and a girl who supported them.

I created my own band to answer those questions. The results were thirty-some years in the making, with tons of research and music-following in general and talking with other fans and reading music biographies, and it became my Rehearsal series. It's not why I started writing. I've been doing that since I knew what writing was. It did spur an obsession for story-telling, for discovering the whys and hows and what ifs, even if the answers are fiction. All fiction has its truths. Reading a novel may mean no more than several hours of escape. Or, it may be a moment in time that causes a lasting effect in some way.

That one moment back in the mid Seventies when I listened to that one album lovingly crafted by artists coming into their own was much more than 30 minutes of escapism. It was pure inspiration. It was lasting joy. It was a trigger. If only one of my books could do the same, that would be a legacy I would be thrilled to have.

If you're wondering, no, I'm not revealing the band name, because that's not the point (and because I called them odd-looking -- apologies to those of you who do know who I mean, but I was only ten-ish and I mostly changed my mind later).

However, for those following the CRR Blog Carnival (and for anyone else who stops by), I do have a musical prize to be drawn from those who leave comments on this post:

A CD full of music from my youth, much of which is mentioned in my Rehearsal series, plus

Rehearsal: A Different Drummer as Ebook on a signed CD. I'll draw the name on Tuesday morning to give those in other time zones plenty of time to get here. Be sure I can contact you or stop back by to see if I need your contact info!

So what about you? Were you a music-obsessed teen? Who did you listen to? If not, what was your teen obsession?

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This is part of the Classic Romance Revival Valentine's Day Blog Carnival. Winners for the grand prize -- a 5-ARC package from Classic Romance Revival authors -- will be drawn from visitors commenting on the most blogs.  To qualify for the grand prize, you need to register for the contest.  Please visit the Classic Romance Revival blog to find details of all the blogs and to register:

http://www.classicromancerevival.com/blog/?p=1671