Apr 262019

In a two week period, my good friend Nancy Blanton and I had tables at two of our favorite reader events — the Amelia Island Book Festival and, the following week, a similar event at the main branch of the Jacksonville Library. And, while displays and travel and schedules are a lot of work, there’s nothing quite like having the opportunity to check in with other readers and writers. “In the face,” as a favorite kiddo used to say.

So what is it that connects a writer of 17th-century Irish historical novels to someone who writes non-fiction? Aside from friendship, there’s the obvious connection of being sounding boards for one another. While there are writers who prefer feedback exclusively from those who write in their same genre, Nancy and I have found that sometimes a person who is completely on the outside sees more clearly and can give the most useful feedback.

There's nothing quite like having the opportunity to check in with other readers and writers. Click To Tweet

There is other, wonderful input that, while it comes too late for building an individual book, warms an author’s heart and inspires her to do more and better. Book festivals and ‘meet the author’ events can result in emails and conversations worthy of back cover placement. Readers are complimentary and very kind.

But despite a great love for others working to find the right lane within the publishing field, connecting with other authors can be difficult. It is especially difficult when we trade books.

It is heartbreaking to pick up a fellow indie author’s book, only to discover that her name has been misspelled… on… the… COVER! Or that there are major typos in the first two or three pages. Or that the majority of the story stayed in her head, never making it to the page.

That’s something that doesn’t have to happen but there are lots of indie authors who only request input from family and friends. Those folks tend to either rip a manuscript to shreds or offer feedback such as “I like it,” or “it’s good.” The intent is both loving and supportive but does nothing to help the writer avoid pitfalls, both major and minor.

What you may not know is that most members of the indie author community are co-operative and collaborative. We have figured out that, unless our ideal reader is one who only ever reads a single book, other authors are colleagues, not competition.

Nancy Blanton and David-Matthew Barnes are two indie authors I admire and love. Click To Tweet

Nancy Blanton and David-Matthew Barnes are two indie authors I admire and… well, actually, the best word to finish this sentence is “love.” Over the years of exchanging critique, advance reading, attending events, and otherwise just lifting and holding one another up, we have become friends. And, over those same years, so many of our conversations have revolved around how best to support other indie authors: how to improve the quality of what’s being published while steering writers with less experience away from some of the predators and pitfalls we’ve run into along the way. Eventually, the three of us formed Amelia Indie Authors: a slow-growing “passion project” for each of us. It’s a place where “this is good but it could be better” is a form of love.

So what’s a reader to do? How can you better support indie authors? First, if you run into an indie publication that has major issues, you can contact the author and let him know — privately and respectfully — about your concerns. You may not get a response or, if you get one, it might be defensive, but at least the information is available. People don’t know what they don’t know.

Second? All of the Amelia Indie Authors with blogs are listed (and linked) on the right-hand side of that site. Check them out. Read their blogs. Leave a comment. You might even enjoy their books!




Apr 102019

What do you see when I say “passive?” Hankie-totin’ Southern ladies on their fainting couches? Perhaps a heroine, reenacting The Perils of Pauline, tied to the railroad tracks, waiting for rescue? The endlessly complaining, hand-wringing, opinionated non-voter? Or is it the teenaged lump, tethered to this earth by those ever-present headphones? When one is passive, there is no active resistance or response. We can see “passive.”

For writers, there’s that pesky passive voice. When using tools to check my work, I sometimes encounter the software’s dreaded yellow squiggles, indicating a voice that’s not quite active enough. The yellow lines taunt me, demanding a re-write.

But, as the one who installed said pushy software? I actively ignore some of its error messages, tenderly x’ing out yellow squiggles here and there. What I really want to do is to yell at it. “Shut up, dammit.” Use of the passive voice is not always an error. Sometimes it’s a stylistic choice. It’s a choice I make when I don’t CARE how the action occurred or even whodunit. It just is. And, I actively — very actively — more actively than you can know… chose those words.

That, my friends, is an example of an active voice. It leaves no doubt as to the actor: c’est moi. Out here on the printed page or floating in some google-verse, thick with electrons. I still don’t understand how that happens, but I don’t care enough to investigate. Passive. Not the passive voice: just passive. On my virtual fainting couch.

But just what is a voice? I like to think of it as the fingerprint of an artistic endeavor. Actors, singers, and writers all spend time honing and developing a voice. And it can change from time to time. Stories are told, and songs are shared, over and over. 26 letters. Seven plots. Eight whole notes in a Western scale. Voice distinguishes Romeo and Juliet from West Side Story. Ronan Tynan’s Star Spangled Banner from Roseanne Barr’s. Voice is what gives an artist ownership; it makes a thing their own. Finding one’s voice is a trip along that Mobius strip called a learning curve. Age and maturity can conspire to facilitate discovery. It could be a luxurious exploration — like journaling or time shared with a gifted therapist or teacher.

And sometimes it’s as simple as a semi-automatic rifle and unspent, swastika-bearing magazines. Hundreds of lives lost: thousands of voices found.

Think about your own voice for a moment. Is it a song or a sound? A noise or a growl? I think about theirs as well: a cry, a whimper, a protest, a scream. Like so many others before them, their voices were muffled for hours as they hid in closets, whispering calls to 9-1-1. Texting ‘goodbyes’ to their loved ones. Urgent voices. Whispers. Cries. Warnings. And when the scene of the crime was deemed secure, they cried some more. And prayed and laughed and hugged with snot and tears running down their faces. And ever since we learned the term “bump stock,” we’ve seen it too many times.

Thoughts and prayers were offered. Their happily-ever-after was taken.

We use passive voice when the action is more important than the perpetrator or when one wishes to be formal, impersonal, or academic. It is accepted proper journalistic style. Do you ever worry about the blurring line between journalism and entertainment? Perhaps editors launch these neutral headlines to help us take a breath or to feel more objective. Distant. Dispassionate.

  • Responsibility was accepted by the victim.
  • Abusive relationships are often sustained by unemployment.

This time when they started asking ‘why’ it was loud. Why were their friends dead? They allowed their rage and fury to fuel their fierceness. The mass shooting generation: they have never known schools as safe havens. Eighteen years since Columbine. Seventeen-year-olds have grown up with active shooter drills. Barricading doors. Avoiding windows. Knowing how to signal law enforcement that they are the unarmed victims.

College first-years have grown up with active shooter drills. Barricading doors. Avoiding windows. Knowing how to signal law enforcement that they are the unarmed victims. Click To Tweet

But, suddenly, these are not victims. They thunder. Neither victims or survivors: they are warriors. Their voices are urgent. Embattled. Strident. Rulers of the electronic universe, they are beyond able to speak for themselves. Every day they connect with those of us who love them — elders and others standing by to amplify their message. Who will be the loudest voice? The clearest one? The silent one? What, if any, action will be taken? I suspect it will be piecemeal, don’t you? And when it doesn’t work, underfunding will be blamed. And, yes, there’s a lot of passive voice right here, right now: I’m trying to protect you from my fury.

  • The road was crossed by the chicken.
  • The other side was reached.
  • The woman was strangled by her husband.

What are the causes of gun violence? The professional politicians tell us it’s a mental health issue, caused, in part by bullying, and a lack of armed teachers in the classroom. Suddenly there are lots of answers, none of them completely correct. Correct answers don’t make good headlines.

Are you ready for the secret hiding in plain sight? They one no one wants to voice? More than half of all mass shooters have a history of domestic violence: they are victims, perpetrators or both. For most, it hasn’t been a secret — at least until after they kill. The Sandy Hook shooter’s mother feared him. The one in Parkland had threatened a girlfriend and, apparently, the folks who took him in after the death of his Mom. The man who shot up the church in Texas had been court-martialed for assaulting his wife and 2-year-old child. The D.C. sniper terrorized his wife before he branched out to a community. The Boston Marathon bomber. The Pulse nightclub shooter.

  • Mistakes were made.
  • The teen was shot at school.
  • The young woman lost her life.

Let’s stop using words to hide the truth: she did not lose her life. It is not misplaced like so many mismatched socks in the dryer lint: she was murdered. Murdered by a madman with a gun, described by some as a ‘lovesick teen.’

Domestic violence is a women-only problem. A husband has the right. She made him angry. It’s a private family matter. Our current legislators are willing to regulate women’s bodies but not assault rifles. There are still schools in this country legally administering corporal punishment to students. Where women and children are property, domestic violence continues unabated. Unaddressed. It took years to stop publishing the names of the domestic violence victims and even longer to stop making school shooters more famous than those whose lives they stole.

  • Threatening calls were made.
  • The other cheek was turned.
  • Woman injured.

By whom? What was injured? All of her? Or just a little bit? Her dignity, her pride, her self- respect. When was she injured? Was it a single, distinct episode or a daily occurrence? Where? Where on her body? Where in her home? Where in her town?

The Latin origin of the word passive comes from the root 'passe-' meaning ‘suffered.’ But where did the political knee-jerk 'thoughts and prayers' originate? Click To Tweet

The Latin origin of the word passive comes from the root ‘passe-‘ meaning ‘suffered.’ But where did the often-unwanted political knee-jerk thoughts and prayers originate? While not inherently bad, their proffer seems to have become as empty as the ceremonial balloons sometimes released by survivors. Political hot air stands in for courageous action. Passive.

No wonder so many of the online grammar checkers slap my wrist. Passive voice. Perhaps instead of highlights and little yellow squiggles, I should find a different program. I want a program that responds to my passive voice like this: Stop it. Own it. Take responsibility or assign blame.

What action will you put to this?

Dec 242018








It was probably a high school reading assignment that introduced me to John Steinbeck’s novels. My guess is that we started with The Grapes of Wrath and, while I may have grumbled about the assignments as much as anyone else, guess who dominated my independent reading for some time after? I’d be hard-pressed to choose between Cannery Row, Tortilla Flat, and Travels With Charley. I loved each and every character and was hooked on feeling transported to a completely different place and culture.

If you’ve visited my blog before, you know I’m fascinated by thinking. And brains. Click To Tweet

If you’ve visited my blog before, you know I’m fascinated by thinking. And brains. I’ve noticed that, as I think about various books and authors, they show up as a category. For example, when I was a single Mom with a young child, we were fortunate to leave New England in early spring and visit relatives in the sunny South. At the time, the release of John Grisham’s novels coincided neatly with those trips and became a bit of a tradition for me.  Runaway Jury comes to mind.

That leads to my love of series. Andrew Vachss’ Burke series is full of honest, gripping stories and compelling characters. It’s dark. And accurate. And has been described as “prose as forceful as a hollow-point slug.” When recommending a starting place, I can’t choose between FloodBlossom, or Hard Candy.  They all fit the bill as novels that tell the truth. Hard truth.

Every novel in Andrew Vachss' Burke series fits the bill as fiction that tells the truth. Hard truth. Click To Tweet

Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series (One for the Money,   Two for the Dough) is as silly as Vachss is revealing. They’re a lot of fun.

And of course, there are my friends who write. I love them — no only for the feedback and encouragement they share but for the work they produce. They keep me traveling to genres that I might now always choose for myself. I enjoy David-Matthew Barnes’ short plays and romances. (Ambrosia is pretty funny.)

I turn to my sometimes-neighbor Barbara Bond for mature chick-lit that takes place on my island home… although I’m going to a launch party for her new release Everyday Enemies next week. And I can’t thank Nancy Blanton enough. Sharavogue — the first book in her series of 17th-century Irish historical fiction — boasts well-drawn characters and enough “action” to make me a fan of a previously untasted genre! There’s something wonderful (and a little naughty) about knowing The Prince of Glencurragh is waiting for me on the bedside table.

Do you read fiction? Please make a recommendation or two in the comments.

Nov 082018

Lots of writers I know have a soundtrack for their work — a playlist that keeps them focused during the long hours of writing, editing and rewriting that goes into producing quality work. Others of us use different tricks to keep our minds from wandering. I’ve talked to several who, like me, are happy with some tried and true, old favorite movie or TV show on in the background. There are even those authors who crave silence but, since my freelance work took off back when I had a kid in elementary, I have no idea how I could make that adjustment.

There are even those authors who crave silence... Click To Tweet


Not long ago I chatted with another writer about the power of smells and songs to evoke powerful memories. It’s something editors often harp on, reminding us to “show don’t tell.” They know that the right snippet of sound can bring the reader into a time and place more quickly than any lengthy description.



The other day, just for fun, I checked in with readers on my Facebook page, asking which album they played over and over when they were younger. In honor of the day my 5th-grader came home, excited to tell me about the “amazing new group” he had heard, I posted the Sargeant Pepper album cover.

The response was fun. And interesting. And most of their postings came with a snippet of story: the first album bought with her own money, singing in front of the mirror with her sisters, making sure to own an LP in every single available format, and even taking pleasure in her parents’ music.

I heard from readers I know around town, some I only know online, and even a friend from high school. Most who responded were female and most around the same age. Their musical choices and the comments they shared painted a picture for me as well. Of the things we cared about. The things we worried about. And the music that made us feel less alone.

Their musical choices painted a picture of the things we cared about, our worries... Click To Tweet

And maybe that’s why so many writers thrive on a personal soundtrack — it’s a connection that makes them less alone.  Does your life have a soundtrack?





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