Could it be a Peach?

We need lots of good vibes and prayers. DH got the call and he has an on-campus interview at a small college in Georgia! At this point it is hard to know what to wish for. I don't know what the pay will be, and it's a huge move. But...DH would still be a professor, which really is his true calling. We told DS that this might be a possibility. He got teary and expressed himself so clearly. He would really rather not move, but he wants his daddy to have the kind of job he likes. And that's actually a big deal to DS. He has seen us work and embrace our jobs (even my Waldorf insanity) and he has come to value that sense of truly enjoying your work. He knows that there are financial considerations, but our little guy is a remarkable, thoughtful soul who has always been "spiritually" in tune. He gets the idea that money isn't everything.

So, our task now is to learn as much about the area as possible. I've checked out the school system in the town itself-- I'll wait to comment on that one. Housing prices are decent. DH is learning as much about the college as he can and figuring out what he will talk about in his "scholarly presentation." In the meantime, he is still chasing down non-academic job possibilities.

We love it in PA, but Georgia could be grand as well. It would certainly be better for my RA-ravaged bod. But I want my DH to be happy. If he's not happy, none of us will be. I can write from anywhere. So there it is. Please pray that the right answer will come...whatever that may be. (And pray that it hurries!)

In a word: STRESS

I hate that word, especially when it comes to my kids. My son is 11 years old today (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUDDY!) It just kills me that he came home from school yesterday, his face drawn tight with tension, and his big brown eyes sitting in a shallow pool of unshed tears. "I'm just so stressed, Mama."

It seems both his personality and the merciless tack of the NCLB crap are taking their toll on my not-so-little guy's self-esteem. He explained that a lot of work has just "gotten away from him" and he is so afraid of ending the year with a bad report card. Like is father, DS can be a bit scatter-brained and disorganized. That's how assignments slip through the cracks. He is also in the gifted program, which is a pull-out program, and that means he has to initiate requests for work that he may have missed. Okay, we can work on that. But the pressure that is generated by the whole "gotta pass the test, gotta excel on that damn PSSA..." above all else (including learning). That is crap! Plain and simple.

I know that he as arrived at that age when things like grades and success matter in more tangible ways. I know that I cannot protect him from stress and pressure and all that comes with growing up, especially the oncoming train wreck known as adolescence. We had a great talk about things and came up with a plan for handling the end of the school year, but I deeply resent the extra pressure that NCLB has created for the kids. Even more, I loath the attitude that so many administrators are taking--"Gotta save my ass so these kids had better perform!" I won't even go into the hell my kindergardener went through last year--when a 5 year old stresses out about an 89% on a math test?!!!! What 5-year-old should even know what a math test is, let alone and 89%?! I mean, come on...at 5 years old, she can barely count to 20!

Sorry about the rant...just had to blow off a little steam. It's just that DS is such a laid-back guy, so when I see the stress actually get to him, it tears my heart out. He has a lot to deal with right now--potentially moving to a new state, changing schools, moving away from friends...And no clear plan yet. Oh yeah, and we just had the sex talk, too! Poor kid...

Query Weary...

By now, I think I've finally figured out what the query is about. That doesn't mean I write them any better, but I think I'm getting closer to the underlying element that has been so elusive. Be ME. Yep. It's that simple. The last two that I wrote were genuinely Ghost Girl queries, full of my real voice and experience. Now whether that will attract an agent and/or publisher has yet to be determined. But I feel better about my query, as if I truly own it.

So how did I finally get here?

First, I did my research. As you've already guessed, I surf the blogosphere not only regularly, but passionately. And I have two excellent launching pads: QueryTracker and AgentQuery. Here, you sort through the agents that "do your thing," whether that be historical fiction, chick lit, urban fantasy...whatever. Then you can get profiles on each agent and find out if they are open to queries, email or otherwise. Read their links and blogs. You might be surprised to find that agents are actual people--with real life experiences, predilections, and opinions of their own. (Don't forget to check The Blue Boards for updates on response times and other info).

Next, I found myself and put it on the page. The more you learn about an agent, the more you see that there is a good fit and a not so good fit. Which one will mesh with your personality, not just handle books like yours? When you figure that out, it's easier to let yourself spill across the page and relate to your agent professionally but also personally. I've spent so much time worrying about making the right impression that I forgot that I have to represent myself as well as my work, especially to an agent, the person who will be your advocate, your support, your biggest cheerleader out there in the market. He/she should know you. Afterall, you are embarking upon a partnership, and with any luck, one that will last a long time.

So, I have just sent out a query to probably the best match I've found so far. I hope she thinks so too. And so the wait begins yet again. Here's hoping...

Blue Boarders Rule!

Hurray! For all of you fabulous Children's writers and illustrators out there, support Verla Kay's website and discussion board--haven for all of us who bash our heads on our keyboards every day, trying to write or illustrate something wonderful for kids--go to Cafe Press and order your magnet or button today!

Verla has built one of the friendliest, most informative forums for kid-litters, full of supportive colleagues, stimulating discussion, and spot-on industry info that has helped me in more ways than I can name. It's more than a discussion board; it's a community. She also has some great articles and tips for writers and artists, links and info for teachers and for kids, too. And she's done this all on her own dime. So give a little back and show off your blue!

A Taste for Tea

Anyone who knows even a little bit about me knows that I am a huge tea drinker. Winter, spring, summer...doesn't matter. I pretty much always have a hot cuppa nearby, especially if I'm writing. As some of you may also know, I often have a certain buddy nearby as well. But who would have guessed that my fuzzy little muse liked English Breakfast Tea as well? (Decaf, of course) As you can see, she more than likes it. Poor little thing, though. She didn't expect the mug warmer action. When she hopped off my cup and put her tiny foot on that black pad...Ouch! It doesn't stop her from hopping back in my tea, though. Stinker! Perhaps I should take one of Maisie's dainty tea cups and pour a wee bit for Ruthie. A tea party!

My DH's Latest Contribution to Cultural Studies

Yes, it is on its way. Set to be released in September, The Porning of America, my husband's razor-sharp assessment of the state of America in a Porn-inflicted society, will soon be on the shelves. And what other timely example could punctuate his and co-author Carmine Sarracino's keen observations than the whole Miley Cyrus/Vanity Fair issue? (I'll leave you to google that one.)

Yes, the topic came up in Kevin's literature classes, and he unflinchingly embraced the conversation which yielded even more interesting perspectives from a young audience. Dare we tread on the wholesome image of a Disney diva? We don't have to. Yet another youngster treads that tightrope between innocent pop icon and wannabe more than a teen queen. How do child stars navigate the tricky, often salacious minefield of childhood stardom, especially a 15-year-old girl, if they want to find work after they turn 18? I'll leave that discussion to my husband. If you click on today's blog title, you will see his blog on the Beacon Press site, outlining some general reactions to the Miley Cyrus debacle.

While it is not a diatribe or a didactic treatise on the evils of pornography, their book paints a crisp picture of the pervasive influence of porn in our society...right down to how it stalks not only us, but in its most subtle (or not so subtle) forms, our children. Is there a difference between erotica and porn? Absolutely. But where is the line and is it always clear?

This may seem like a strange and antithetical relationship--the guy who writes about porn and the chick who writes books for kids. I write books for children. Not sexy books. Not "edgy" books. Compelling books. (at least I hope I do). But the argument Kevin makes is not completely divorced from my world of YA fiction. Or from our roles as the parents of two young children. Just think about how porn connects with mainstream childhood the next time you pick up that Bratz doll or the latest Mary Kate and Ashley fashions at Walmart...

My Preview Audience...

I know I've blogged about Ruthie in the past, my erstwhile sidekick who shares my writing desk...and my bookshelf! She's pretty selective about her reading, and very interested in education research...

Sadly, I have neglected two very important members of my literary audience who see me through my mad re-enactments of the most dramatic (okay...sometimes inane) scenes in my WIP. So meet Whitman (yes, he's named after the poet). He has a bad habit of chewing up my daughter's plastic toys--the basement is a sea of FP Little People amputees--so he is not allowed to come all the way down into the basement.

Despite his banishment from the lower depths of my "office"/playroom, he sits sweetly on the step at just about eye level while I work. On occasion he snores or sighs, but he's good company when the house is really quiet. He's fairly opinionated, too. That's how I developed my thick skin against rejections.


My other buddy, Daisy. A true pound puppy, we adopted her from the human society in Indianapolis more than 7 years ago. She's the sensitive one. I can always count on her to laugh or cry at the right time in my manuscript. I don't know what I would without these little guys. Tea party guests, Halloween costume pals, roll on the floor and love 'em up buddies, they are such a part of the family and my literary critics circle. Just a small tribute to these three incredible companions. If you don't have a furry critique partner, I highly recommend it!

All Things Can Tempt Me

All things can tempt me from this craft of verse:
One time it was a woman's face, or worse--
The seeming needs of my fool-driven land;
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand
Than this accustomed toil. When I was young,
I had not given a penny for a song
Did not the poet sing it with such airs
That one believed he had a sword upstairs;
Yet would be now, could I but have my wish,
Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish.

William Butler Yeats, 1910

With all the discussion of procrastination, I just couldn't resist posting a piece from my favorite poet. Though Yeats never had to contend with the allure of the internet or television, nonetheless, he, like most of us, struggled with a host of daily distractions that begged and beckoned, drawing him away from his creative purpose. And don't we just ache for those feeble sirens to call us away when our task is already frustrated? Blogland, chatrooms, email--it's all just a more concrete manifestation of Yeats' desperate breaks with inspiration.

But I have to say that somewhere within that bog of distraction lies the seed of inspiration. Sometimes I just need that kick start, that little phrase innocently uttered online to spark an idea that grows into a paragraph and then a chapter and then the book. No matter how disconnected that idea may seem, the whole sense of connection that I get from my little distractions actually feeds my writing...somehow. Diversion does that crazy dance that misdirects our brain long enough for it to find the answer (or inspiration) in our subconscious. Oh, jeez! Yeats would be proud of me now!

Two for the Road

After some questionable accommodations and service at our fabulous retreat, the time has come to consider other options for next year's venue. I've been busy hunting down potential spots, trying to keep things in the Poconos and keep them intimate and inspiring, and I lit on 2 specific possibilities. What's that you say? Come on up and check it out? You'll hook me up with a room for the night and a tour? Great!

Bummer...my cohort has a big commitment this weekend and can't go with me, and we can't find babysitting so DH and I can go together. I guess I'm on my own. Ah but wait! The film maker. What about him?

Yes, my little Spielberg accompanied me up into the Poconos for a look around, and what a blast! I love having that quiet time with my son, especially when it involves an adventure. Our last big adventure took us to New York City to the movie set of Spiderman 3, where my little guy was an extra in the film. This time we were sampling menus, hiking into the woods, evaluating the size and spring of the beds (always fun with a 10-year-old), and taking in the "sense" of the place, which is absolutely key to the success of this journey.

We found a fabulous place just 20 minutes or so from our former location, and it has everything--facilities, atmosphere, service, good food, free-roaming deer and even a few bears! It may have been more fun having my son there than DH (shhhh!) because he really wanted to see everything and try out all the amenities. Looking and seeing was not sufficient for him. He's all about the whole experience. That something unmatchable about our little jaunts, and Connor said, "Mama, can we do this every year? I mean just have a weekend together, just you and me?"

Yes, my insides rolled up into a big mushy knot and my eyes welled up. Absolutely! Daddy can have Boy Scout Camp and all that, but these little journeys will be for me and my boy. What a tremendous gift this weekend offered. Beautiful weather, a successful search, and priceless mama/son time that still pulls my lips up into a grin every time I think about it.

A BIONICLE STORY -- the Blogspot Premiere

Coming to you from the clickety-clackety streets of Amish Country....The directorial debut of C.M. Scott (aka Manshark) and his film A BIONICLE STORY.



C.M. wrote, directed, starred, photographed, orchestrated,...made this movie almost exclusively by himself. Just a little voice-over help from Daddy, and a few handy-cam scenes that he couldn't film himself (because he had to be the star!). There are over 600 still photos in this 90 seconds of action, each requiring a steady hand and a mountain of patience to manipulate the figures with microscopic precision. He even story-boarded the project before he began filming. All this, just about a month before he turned 10. (You can't tell I'm proud, can you?)

Now at work on his second feature (again, a month before his birthday--11), he hopes to finish this one in time for the school talent show again. He had such a response last year--kids asking for his autograph, a troupe of 6th-grade groupies following him all over the playground (not bad for a 4th-grader!).

Speilberg, Scorcese...look out!

Ahhhh...Retreat!

The scent of pine trees and lake water. The ticka,ticka, ticka of ladybugs scurrying in and out of every room. The hum of passionate writers and illustrators comparing rejection letters, success stories, and manuscripts. The roar of semi-trucks racing up the road outside my window at 3:00am. Ah, the retreat weekend had finally arrived. Unfortunately so had a completely new staff at our favorite Inn, which meant some rough spots in our idyllic jaunt into the mountains. Let's just say, McDonald's could have provided more consistent food and service. (Ouch...I know that's harsh!)

But the faculty was one of the best ever. Our speakers were impeccable, truly inspiring, and the editors were straight-forward and tons of fun. I feel truly blessed to have connected with T.A. Barron who shared such a love for storytelling and for the earth. Beautiful is the only word I can think of to describe this man. He is so at peace with who he is and so passionate about writing. We swapped stories and he shared the brand new cover of his latest book--Wow! I found a real kindred spirit in Mr. Barron, as well as what I hope will be a common editor!

I can't say enough about Jordan Sonnenblick. We had so much fun--although I'm sure he thinks he has a couple of stalkers, between me and Laurie! His story of how he wrote his first book, Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie, was awe-inspiring. It will melt your heart...and make you want to thump the man! That's one writer's journey I would like to have. Jordan has the keenest sense of humor. We shared some war stories from the teaching trenches, although now he has quit his teaching job to write full time. I'm sure he is sorely missed. He's my kind of teacher--and writer!

Gene Barretta shared his journey as well, and oh how cool! Be sure to look for the author's photo on the jacketflap of each of his books--you'll be able to watch a little sprout grow...

The editors all had interesting points of view, and many of the workshops were more hands-on this year. Patrick Collins, the art director from Henry Holt gave the most helpful PB dummy construction workshop. Such a talented, unassuming man. Genuinely interested in seeing what other writers and illustrators were doing.

So...now the real work begins--planning for next year. Yep, that's right, folks. I'm in charge of the next retreat, and already I have a handful of possible sites. Sadly, the location where we have rested for the last 16 years just isn't going to cut it. So, I will be building this one from scratch. But I'm excited and I think I'm up to the task.

Hope to have more news, soon. Publishing news that is.

Time to Retreat...

It's that time of year--the Poconos Retreat. Time to breathe in some creative air and soak up some inspiration from my writing pals as we pig out on gourmet food and get back on track with some dead-on editorial guidance. Now that I've been at this for a few years--7 actually--conferences have taken on a very different feel to them. I used to be jumping with nerves and self-doubt, but eagerly devouring every morsel of critical advice and writerly inspiration I could scrape up. I don't know if you would call me a war horse yet, but I feel that I've ridden these trails hard and heavy and at least 100 times by now. Okay, maybe not 100. But in some ways I have arrived as a writer. There is still plenty of new stuff to hear, lots of mistakes to correct, oodles of connections to make, but I think the most satisfying part of this weekend is the camaraderie. That sense that we've all stretched ourselves until we are paper-thin, fought for our babies--our literary progeny--until we can't bear to look at those tatty manuscripts any longer. Of course we know that after a few months in a dark drawer, those pesky little pups will whine until they get our attention again.

But a weekend of editorial panels, workshops, and writers sharing their million war stories on the road to publication somehow revives me. There is a strange affirmation to having your first page shredded by 5 or 6 editors in front of 100 other people, all bleeding from their own wounds. Some on life support. But it reminds me that yes, I am a writer. And yes, I do love it.

Somebody Please Help...

This gorgeous piano needs a home. We may or may not be moving, but we have no space for the stunning piece of history. And we can't afford to store it. The kind people who have been looking after her now need their space back for renovation. I hate to give up this gem, but if anyone out there knows someone who is looking for an antique in exquisite condition, send them my way.

Sad...very sad.

15 Years and Counting--Quite Happily!

Yes, indeed. My man and I have been married 15 years today. It's amazing how fast the years have flown by. They haven't all been full of bliss, but they have been exactly what they should be. We've seen the tough years and the joyful, some met more handily than others, but always with love and respect. I gave my beloved a book of letters, My Dearest Friend, the correspondence between John and Abigail Adams. Amazing--a country struggling to be born, a sometimes crass and arrogant man laboring to bring about the revolution, and a woman of infinite strength holding her man together from afar. Yes, Abigail really was the foothold, here. The first letter in the book is absolutely lovely:

October 4th. 1762

Miss Adorable

By the same Token that the Bearer hereof satt up with you last night I hereby order you to give him, as many Kisses, and as many Hours of your Company after 9 OClock as he shall please to Demand and charge them to my Account: This Order, or Requisition call it which you will is in Consideration of a silimar order Upon Aurelia for the Like Favour, and I presume I have good Right to draw upon you for the Kisses as I have given two or three Millions at least, when one has been recd, and of Consequence the Account between us is immensely in favour of yours.

John Adams

My man gave me exactly what I wanted--tulips. They are my favorite and were our wedding flowers all those years ago. So no matter how frustrated we are feeling about the job situation or waiting and waiting for word on my 2 manuscripts, we know that the foundation of this life is real and solid. And all I can say is, never settle. The right one is so worth the wait.

The Girl Scout Promise

This weekend, my daughter and I embarked on her very first camp-out adventure with her Brownie troop (all 7-year-olds). Don't get me wrong, I love camping, but with my RA, I wasn't sure I would make it through a cold weekend in the woods. Fortunately we had 2 sunny days in the 40's, brooking 50, so it wasn't too bad. And we had a lovely, recently refurbished, heated cabin. Luxury! I was proud of my girl, working hard to help out with the chores and keep up on the hike. She couldn't wait to record some of the sights in her "journal". She drew the tree, the spider, the bear track (more likely a raccoon). It was precious. Of course she was the last one to bed that night. And then the adventure really began...

All the girls are asleep, except Maisie of course, and the troop leader and one of the moms are sitting out on the porch. Suddenly the mom comes in and whispers that she saw a man standing by the latrine (11:00 at night). The GS hosts are called. They call the police. After about an hour of scouring the woods and talking to the witness, the police suggest that we move the girls down to the Host house, which is closer to the road and 3 stories high. Then they utter those words that first struck terror in my guts--"We don't want another Amish School shooting situation..." What?!!!!! Holy crazy cow! One strange guy in the woods I can handle. Creepy, but I can handle it. But dredging up the Nickelmines tragedy--that's too much. That was only 8 miles from my house. And you never truly know fear until you have children.

So, we tell the girls that the heat broke. Of course it made no sense when they found themselves in a musty, freezing alternative a few minutes later! But we got through the night, me with maybe one hour of sleep, Maisie with 4 or 5, and in the morning we dragged ourselves back up to our cabin and through the next day and had a fabulous breakfast and lunch, learned how to make firestarters and tie knots and how to build a fabulous campfire.

So there is the adventure the Brownies never knew they had...and they won't know until they are much older!

A Few More Tidbits...

A few days ago, I wrote about research in its more practical, contemporary clothes. Let me toss out a site here USNO site to look up info on astronomical events. Check out the data services link to find out what time the sun rose on March 3, 1892. Or maybe what phase of the moon hung in the sky. This was a really cool little link to find when I was reaching back to 1850, looking for as much authenticity as possible. But there is a lot of great information for contemporary subjects as well.

Another fabulous site for 19th century resources is a digital library of 19th-Century History, loaded with links to a variety of collections. And there's always the fabulous Making of America site.

Now, where do you get good stuff for your characters? Of course strong powers of observation are essential, but I have a favorite place to research people. No, it's not the local mall or the nearest Starbucks, although both are great places to observe teenagers.

Call me crazy or morbid or just plain psycho, but I love old cemeteries, the older the better. You would be amazed at the stories
you find written on headstones--sometimes in poetry, sometimes in emblems and dates, sometimes just in the name. Some of the more famous cemeteries, like Mount Hope in Rochester, have websites that describe the famous people dwelling in the earth there. So if you're looking for an interesting name, or just a fascinating story, check out an old burial ground.

Is Research Just for Non-fiction Writers and History Buffs?

Unequivocally, No. I know, I know...I've been just too excited about digging through the bones of 19th-century Spiritualism, but even in my contemporary writings, I am constantly looking for answers. The questions are sometimes different, but not always.

First, for any project I have to ask the when and the where. Even if the story takes place right now in my own back yard, I need to explore the setting in detail. If my readers are going to live in it, the setting should be as real and rich as possible, even if all the details don't actually make it to the page. The impression of them should.

What lives there? By that I mean plant life, wildlife, even what kind of people,...what sort of industry moves the town, etc.

I actually took several reading expeditions when I was working on WOS, just looking for what kind of wildflowers actually grow along the Genessee River or even what sort of stove would stand in an 1850 kitchen. Some readers might not notice if I've placed some strange cactus that grows only in the Sahara along the river bank, but one just might. Of course, I hope I never stray that far off the mark. But even in the present-day setting, the little things around the room or in the yard tell us a lot about your characters and their struggles.

Yes, towns have character, too. And your setting should be just that--another character in your story. Give it personality. Give it life. It needs to be more than a "Paper Moon sailing over a cardboard sea..." (to quote an old song and a fabulous movie). The setting has the power to completely alter the reader's perception of your characters, of the problems they face, of the tone of your story. Never underestimate that power of its influence.

Okay, I know I began this little discussion with "first...," but the rest will have to wait for a second installment. In the meantime, enjoy your research. Go out and lie in the grass, smell the air, count the houses, count their windows, notice where the moon rises and exactly how its light paints the trees at 2 o'clock in the morning. Research...

The Epistolary Approach

What ever happened to...the letter? You know...those pieces of paper hand-decorated with the most intimate of thoughts, sometimes the most carefully sculpted deceptions, often dipped in the sincerest of emotion and accented with a splash of sarcasm or a good bit of humor.

Take this little bit, for instance...

But with all this I am a weak man and a fool; weak, that I should be caught in the midst of my grave purposes by the gilded dust of a butterfly's wing.

From a letter written by Elisha Kane to Maggie Fox, c. 1853

Not that everyone needs to fill their letters with poetry and mush, but there is something infinitely more personal to a hand-written note, something so deeply connected. The writing itself is often lovely to behold. With the advent of computers, email, and the effortless keyboard, however, it's a wonder that any of us can remember how to sign our names to the mortgage payment! Aside from beautiful penmanship, there are the other elements of this life that only a letter can bring, bits that simply cannot seep through the computer screen. The feel of the paper in your hands. The scent of the writer--perhaps a little chocolate, or lilac, or something muskier. The sound of the envelope giving way to whatever device you choose to extricate the precious contents from their protector. The marks of its journey--stains and stamps and smudges. A letter gives you the whole sensual experience.

I'm scolding myself as well. About a year ago, I started a pen-pal relationship with a fellow writer who was looking for a pen pal via SCBWI's discussion boards. Absolutely! I love to write letters. Of course when the whole job kerfuffle began, I lost all sense of time and space and pretty much evaporated from the correspondence pool. (Sorry, Christine...hope you got my letter a few weeks ago!)

I have spent most of my life staring wistfully at mailboxes, praying for some little treasure (these days that would include a book contract!) to open and savor with a cup of tea. When I lived in Ireland, I ached for letters from friends and family across the pond, but the crippling can't-write-a-letteritis had already seized a generation and left my poor mail slot empty and unfulfilled. What dejection! The letter carrier whistling as he skipped right past my lonely old letter slot. May as well stuff it full of wool to keep the cold wind out!

It is so rare to find something other than bills or crappy invitations to steal my identity in that precious box standing guard at the end of my driveway. No matter how much I talk about it, however, I still need to do more to perpetuate the art of letter-writing. So...I've got my fountain pen and my stacks of interesting papers, and a proper "thank you" is on its way to a generous friend who loaned me her couch for a few nights...

Murder and Mad Weather--The Road to Rochester

You would never believe that when I left Lancaster County on Thursday afternoon, it was sunny and 50º outside--even up north in Rochester. 24 hours later we were in the middle of a mini blizzard. Of course I was oblivious to the snow storm brewing right outside the Rare Books Collection at the University of Rochester Library. My face was buried in piles of the most fascinating letters and pamphlets from the 1840s and 50s. With the research for my next book really taking off, I have that fever...you know, when your mind won't stop for a second, you can't sleep because you're constantly moving pieces around in your head, trying to figure out the best narrative approach and how much of your research really belongs, blah blah blah... Wow!

Of course the coolest tidbit I found was all about the supposed murder that took place at the Hydesville house in the early 1840's. Oh the details! Very exciting...but you'll have to wait for my book to find out more! Huge thanks to Mary and Rose for chasing down these wonderful documents and making copies for me.

My favorite part of the trip was hanging with my fabulous hostess and brand new YA librarian, Deena, and A2A blog buddy Kate. I felt as though I had known them for years. Kate, I hope your bronchitis is better! We all shared a tasty dinner at The Garlic Pit...MMMMMM! Later we hung out at Kate's house to chat a bit longer, and her kids were all the entertainment we needed. They are awesome! And a huge thanks to Deena for putting me up (or shall I say putting up with me!?) and especially for shoveling out my car.

Tuned in to the Weather Channel on Saturday morning, it looked as though the line of snow extended just south of Rochester--well, it turned out to be 2 hours south. So I decided to make a run for it and see if I could beat the rest of the storm. Two hours of white-knuckling past an endless stream of steel corpses along the median--good little Subaru--and I finally came out the other side of the storm. The next few hours were a mix of rain and dry cloudy skies. I had just crossed into Lancaster Co., PA, 25 minutes from home, so I called Deena to let her know I had survived. No sooner had I hit the "end" button and put the phone down when my car started to shake. Up ahead, a huge tree lay beside the road, stretching its gnarled finger tips across the right lane. Above me, a wall of clouds raced across the sky and I half expected a tornado to reach right down and sweep the highway clean. Once again, the knuckles turned white. A few miles from home, the stop sign was twisting in the wind, greeting everyone with 360º waves. Power lines were swaying wildly, dipping lower and lower with each gust of wind. I couldn't believe it! Maybe its the ghost of the murdered peddler following me home! 45 mph winds!

Whew! Home now with lots of great research and an itch to head back up to Rochester for more.

Three New R's--Road trip for Research in Rochester!

Thanks to a fabulous writing/blog buddy (thanks Miss Recently Repped!), I have a place to stay as I ramp up my research for my next book. Who would have guessed that historical fiction would be my bag? Somehow, falling into the 1850s was just as natural as falling off my horse (well, easier--I've got a pretty good seat!)

While I hold my breath a little longer, waiting for word on my first historical fantasy, now in the most capable of editorial hands, I am finally kicking up the energy to explore my next tale of historical spooks. Maggie Fox made a brief appearance in that worthy tome, so now I'm considering giving her the spotlight for a bit, and it's down to digging up details. I've read a lot about the Fox sisters and looked up maps and information about Rochester and spent a lot of time on WorldCat trying to locate some primary and secondary sources, but I really need to go spend some time there, soak in the city.

Another big thanks to Nancy Rubin Stuart whose fabulous book and generous guidance gave me a little more insight into where to take my next step. I'm still floundering a bit as to exactly where the plot will go and from whence it will begin, but it will come. All it takes is a word or a phrase or some whisper of an idea. Who knows, maybe the ghosts of Kate and Maggie Fox will pay me a visit while I'm there!

The best news is, I'll be writing again!