Try On the Jacket

When I got up this morning, I knew it was going to be "one of those days" where I have a bad attitude. I went to bed last night with a split little toenail (I barely have a toenail on that toe, anyway) that started to bleed and I had to bandage it, sticking it out from the covers because even the sheet hurt, and my feet were cold to boot, which put me in a bad state of mind going to sleep. (ha, "to boot.") It could be worse, but I'd like it better.

So I pray my usual short prayer to get started in the morning, all in bad attitude, step out of my bed, and limp to get dressed.

I take the dog out after putting my coffee on. It smells "funny" out. I live in the boonies, so I'm not used to "funny" smells. Almost a chemical smell. I can't figure it out, which gets me to thinking negative thoughts. It's not skunk, cows, horses or even my dog smelling.Not the usual organic smells that I have learned are the "norm." It's something else I don't recognize. I come back in the house. I forgot to put in the thing that holds the coffee filter, so my coffee pot is a mess and what did go through is weak and crummy, full of grounds. I drink it anyway, and read my paper, crunching my coffee. Maybe the smell outside will go away.

My youngest son is a senior in HS this year. He awakened with a sore throat this morning and barely was speaking. I made him some tea and honey and dosed him up with meds and sent the poor kid to school. I'll be thinking of him all day. He is taking an EMS course this year and will learn something else new to rescue someone. Who takes care of those who take care of the world? Now you know. A woman at home with a bad attitude( and a chemical smell outside) who is randomly writing in her blog as she crunches her coffee.

I have four boys who each have a great sense of humor. They can make me laugh when I'm standing on the cliff's edge. This morning in my bad attitude jacket I got to thinking about them and missing how they were always here to drop funny lines and jolt me out of bad attitudes. Now they are in the world talking others out of having bad days. I was just starting to think I had done nothing for the world in my lifetime and that I was wasting away in this "place" (which I have a bad attitude about this "place," too.) But as I watched my youngest slip out the door to make his classmates and teachers laugh another day, even though he felt not-so-good, I realized I'm not in the grave yet and I've got four guys out there brightening their own corners.

That's when I saw this photo. It's of my two youngest boys at my soon-to-be 93-year-old Grandmother's house in Tennessee back several years ago(when she lived at home, not in the nursing home.) Max thought it was funny when my Grandmother gave him this jacket. Instead of getting all out of whack about it, he was laughing. And he always had this attitude that he would "grow into it." So, I suppose I need to try on the jacket of good attitude, laugh that it's too big for me today, but I'll "grow into it." Just accept it.

And with that thought I'm ready to write some more today, me, in my too-big for-me Good Attitude Jacket, shrunk underneath in my Bad Attitude Underwear.

Seeing Through the Lies

Vonda Skelton is a funny person with deep truths revealed in a non-stressful way. She has a book out called, Seeing Through the Lies. Check it out here.

The World Is a Puzzle

My friend, Dave Weiss, has amazing talents and profound thoughts, and he just did this You Tube about how you matter.

The World Is a Puzzle and You're a Piece of It!

Write On

What do you do with your time? Ok, you say,"I work, eat, sleep, clean,drive, talk, cook, shop,groom, feed the dog/cat/horse, eat (oh, wait, I said that,)" ....what else?

I write. I read. Sounds simple, hey? Yeah, simple as opening a vein. (Sometimes when I read, I cut out a person's heart, I'm sorry to say. Colleen Coble might do that when she writes...)

I've heard my fellow writers complain how the real world people don't understand that when they are writing, they don't have time to do other things. This usually gives a real world person an invitation to impose or request on your time. If you are a writer, have you heard any of these comments/questions?

"Oh, you're not doing anything. Could you pick up my child at school?"
"Oh, you're not doing anything important. Could you go let my dog out?"
"You keep writing all these articles. When are you going to write a book and be a real writer?"
"Oh, Crystal here writes articles. If she can do it, anyone can do it!" (This was spoken in church during a sermon by a former pastor...backhanded humble pie is my daily bread.)
"I see you have a romance book. When will they let you write a real book?"
"Since you're not doing anything, you can head up the chili supper."

And the beat goes on. Writers get no respect.

(You can add yours to the comments!)

Writers have to commit to a rigorous schedule and even when a writer is "doing nothing," he is writing--picking up a bit of dialogue, working out a plot point, building a hero. Time is all good to a writer and even the bad day isn't wasted on him.

When I was at my writers conference this past summer, we were reminded of how Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn wrote his story, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich published in 1962. He had lived the life of Ivan in the Gulag, a Soviet labor camp system. I read it in high school. It affected me the same way that Anne Frank's diary had. But it was Alesandr's own life that really touched me. He was born on December 11th, my birthday, too! (Different years...)

His mother was a widow by the time he was born. His dad was killed shortly after she became pregnant, and she and her sister raised him in meager circumstances. Aleksandr's father had been in the Imperial Army, so she kept that fact of Aleksandr's father a secret for reasons of safety. She also did something not looked upon with favor--she raised him in her faith of Russian Orthodoxy. She was educated and encouraged his literary leanings. (We all have someone at some point on our road to literary life. Who was your encourager?)

He was sent to hard labor in the Gulag because of something he wrote. He paid for that writing, but he never stopped "writing" even though he didn't have ideal conditions to write (it stayed in his head at this point.) When he was finally released, he had to write in the dark of the night, and bury his writing each and every day.

He said, "during all the years until 1961, not only was I convinced I should never see a single line of mine in print in my lifetime, but, also, I scarcely dared allow any of my close acquaintances to read anything I had written because I feared this would become known." (From his speech when he accepted the Nobel Prize.)

It is scary to write--whether you are writing a 600-word article, an 150-word book review, a 400-page novel, a letter to the editor. Writing requires you to reveal something about yourself. You are at risk somehow. In light of Aleksandr's road to being published, hearing someone say, "Oh,if Crystal can do it, anyone can!" doesn't sound so harsh. Maybe the hardest thing to do of all is show that writing to a reader. If you write it down, it begs to be read.

I always joke (half-seriously) that I would read my friend's, Paula from Alaska, grocery list. I would prefer to see her books and writing in print, but I will wait. I love to read and I have put off my own writing at times to read someone else's writing. Yesterday, however, I was struck by my time growing shorter, and for me to put down those stories I was afraid to tell. I made a new outline, wrote some things down, and am committed to finishing that particular story. I have another one I will finish first, because I said I would.

If you are a writer, you are brave. Go write.

Love Finds You in Snowball, Arkansas

This fall there will be new Christian romances coming off the presses at Summerside Press. As it gets closer, I may be telling about some of them. Here's the movie trailer for one of those, Love Finds You in Snowball, Arkansas by Sandra Bricker. Each book will be set in a town somewhere in the U.S. Sandie's interview on When I Was Just a Kid will go up at the end of September, so be sure to check in on that, too!

Chocolate

Ok, I still haven't figured out how to take photos with my new cell phone, called a "Chocolate." My kids roll their eyeballs straight to the ceiling. It holds a charge pretty well so now I keep it on all the time. I got a text message and was able to send one back----sl----o---w---l---yyyyyyyyyyyy. I type fast on my keyboard but not on that thing!

I have a phone like the one above but it no longer is hooked up. I'm not sure if it would work. Back in the day when phones like that were the norm, you were on a party line. You could secretly pick up the line and listen in on someone else's conversation, unless they heard you, or you could call a neighbor for help, unlike before you had a phone. Times sure have changed.

For example, while on 465 coming around Indy on Sunday afternoon, a woman was traveling speed limit in the Indy 500, er, I mean, the third passing lane. We were nearly beside her in the middle lane. Some guy comes up behind her, honks his horn, and acts mad, moving his lips rapidly. (I could watch him as I was in the back seat.)Finally, she moves ahead of us, so the guy swerved quickly into our lane, nearly causing an accident with us, and then he dove in front of her trying to cut her off. He then sped away--sort of.

The lady he was so angry with, nearly causing major accidents because of his road rage? Well, she had a cell phone and wasn't afraid to use it. She filmed the incident with her phone, and then you could see her punching in numbers and talking on the cell. I assume she reported his road rage and his speeding and reckless driving. I felt a sense of justice as I watched her.

Not exactly a party line, and not exactly great, I realized, because I could never do what she did (I mean, I couldn't do all that with my phone, even though I would wish that I could!)But it did get me to thinking how a story set today has completely different ways to be plotted out. I saved this incident I observed to my files.

I may have to get my phone out to figure it out. Do you remember that Clint Eastwood movie where he is a Gunny and he and his troop gets shipped to the conflict in Grenada? In one scene there they find a phone, use a credit card to make a call to fire on the enemy (giving the coordinates.) Now, they could whip out their cell phone to call,use the GPS,and then take a film of what happens and post it on You Tube, I guess. (Or email it to the CO?)

It's been a rough day. I think I'll turn off my cell phone. Chocolate should be something you eat. I think that is the kind of chocolate I could use right now.

Back to Writing

I thought you would like to see the house I was talking about in a previous blog of West 11th Street. I grew up here from age 6 to 11. I vividly remember this house and the neighborhood. It often haunts me in my dreams.

I have desperately been trying to connect to my own writing. Having worked on all kinds of things in the writing field, I left the original intent I had to write my own stories and life, and tried to fit "the market." I started this blog in an attempt to regain that voice that I originally had. I don't know that I've accomplished it. However, the last few days I've been going over my notes from the Midwest Writers Workshop, and found that some of that came back to me in this conference.

As it has happened so often, when I start to connect to my own voice, I end up on West 11th Street. It is a place just flooded with things that burst in my senses--tastes,sights, smells, feelings, sounds, emotions, curiosity, laughter, tears and the world. My street was a minature world of various cultures and religions and mores. Other places we lived weren't so invaded by other people as this place was. I think part of it is that there was so much conflict on this street, and I was able to observe it and sometimes be a part of it, whether I wanted to or not.


One of the tastes that I so loved was Tu-Your-Door Pizza. I can remember it like yesterday! A loaded supreme. And it came TO OUR DOOR. LOL. We never lived in another place where we could have pizza delivered. It would happen on Saturday night when my dad would be home from working as a long haul, owner-operator trucker. He usually came home on Friday night or Saturday morning and would be dispatched Sunday night. Occasionally he'd be home midweek, but only to catch some sleep and get another load. Mostly, he had enough of on the road food and so Mom cooked him something, but occasionally even he wanted that pizza. What a treat! And we'd watch HeeHaw or Midwestern Hayride while we ate. That was a good memory. I still love pizza(and I still love country music.)

So, somehow I know that when I write, I have to have something of West 11th Street in there. I don't know at this point how it will show up in my writing, but I finally accept that it must happen. I'm working on a cozy romantic mystery, but it's been tough going. I realized that I wasn't really being authentic to myself while at this conference. I can't pinpoint the precise moment, but maybe it was while listening to Brent Bill, Jeff Stone or Sally Wright or Lee Lofland or Shirley Jump. Or maybe it was while talking to Cathy Shouse or Charlotte Shepperd or Doc Hensley or Jude Urbanski or Dee--somewhere in that letter soup and many I've left out, is where I had an awakening--again.

With all that said, I still have this great desire to help other writers. I will continue to incorporate that into my own writing, or maybe try to keep that separate somehow. But my quest is to finish that manuscript that resides on West 11th Street.
Maybe not with this manuscript currently, but the next one. But soon. I'm old, you know!

Love Finds You

I've worked on a lot of love stories--from the other side of the desk. While my role was small with these love stories, it's still fun to see them when they finally come out.

Here's Andrea Boeshaar's latest video trailer for Love Finds You in Miracle, Kentucky coming out in October 2008:

New Kid Up at When I Was Just a Kid

To say that I've had technical difficulties this summer with my internet is an understatement. Finally, we have issues resolved and I was able to stay online long enough to post a full interview with kid photos. This is something I love writing and doing.

My latest interview is with funny woman, Vonda Skelton.





Check it out~

Write. Anyway.

I hear so many voices in my head that sometimes I'm lost in the confusion. Shirley Jump says, "You can fix everything but a blank page." She's right. I fix other people's pages--their topic, their characters, the voice, the plot and I listen. I listen to the writer intently until his voice becomes my voice, his thoughts, my thoughts.

So, sometimes I write--nothing. I can ignore fear. I can even ignore the doubt. But I cannot seem to ignore the other voices who crowd out the voices clamoring to tell me the story that only I see. Someone very wise told me I need to choose what to put into my head and how to fill my day and sometimes I don't do that. I don't choose; someone else chooses for me. I don't know about you, but I cannot write like that.

In one of my favorite movies, "Finding Forrester," Forrester tells Jamal "to start with someone else's words until your own start coming."

Ok. Haven't I done that?Apparently not.

My biggest thing I ignore is listening to my own story. It's there. I remember it, but I push it into closets, boxes, under rugs and into corners. I threaten it if it peeks out.

"Don't talk to me. You don't matter. I need to hear these other important stories."

They are important stories, the ones out there asking for my time, but my time is ticking for me and never goes back to start. I need to finally listen to the stories that are mine.I listened to them once. When I was in high school and wrote in notebooks. One day, when I went off to college, I stood by our burn barrel and burned each one of them. I still am not sure why I did that.

I haven't listened to it in a long time, but every-once-in-a-while I hear a bit of it. Today I heard it again when I read a front page story about a man who was arrested for drugs on which the street I grew up. Yeah. So I listened to the things that happened back there, back then. I had in my brain that we were a nice family, on a nice street...right? Well, maybe not. My mom was the saint of the street, but maybe things weren't so simple and sweet. Not so idyllic.

We lived across the street from a truck dispatcher who drank too much and his second wife who also drank a lot and was addicted to narcotics. They lived next to a woman who had four little girls, and she worked as a cocktail waitress at night--and the girls stayed there alone. She slept during the day and the girls were always outside and the youngest always had a runny nose. She had never married and rumor had it that she made money other ways, too. Maybe so her girls would eat. The oldest, who was under 12 and near my age took my birthstone ring that my grandmother gave to me one day when we played in my room. She showed it to me, the band cut so she could wear it on her thick finger. When I said, "Hey, that's mine," she ran home. My mother chose to just let her have it.

Next to them were a family of five whose kids left all their toys outside, including clothes sometimes. We had a dog who used to bring it all and leave it on our doorstep each night. We had to go around the neighborhood asking, "Is this yours?"On the other side of us across the street from our corner was a really nice family of four who were Mormon. They kept to themselves. Their two teenage daughters babysat me when a kid from down the street hit my brother in the head with a hammer and mom took him to the hospital. They came over to play with me as I laid in our hammock when I had stepped on the sharp dog's bone and got blood poisoning. I had to leave my foot up high.

My brother and I often sat next to the fence between our house and the couple with no children who had an above ground swimming pool, but were hardly ever home. They never said hello to us and I think didn't like us watching them. I tried to imagine what the inside of their house must be like because they seemed glamorous, like movie stars.

Down the alley was the mean drunk who used to come down the alley and threaten my brother and me and our German Shepherd, Rin. One day he cussed us out (we never said anything, just watched him with alarm as our dog threatened to come over the fence to attack him) and he threatened to kill us. My dad was home that day and the man got a visit from my dad. Let's just say that my dad was a very scary guy and we never saw that man walking by ever again. I can only imagine what he said to the man.

In that same alley directly behind us was a two-story brick church--Pentecostal. The people never said hello to us, never invited us to join them, never even looked at us. I would listen to their Sunday morning singing and sometimes when the windows were open I'd hear their strange language that filled their ears with some sort of passion, but meant nothing to me.

We had a white picket fence, a grape arbor that my mother made grape jam and thick,sweet juice from, a vegetable and rhubarb patch, a sour cherry tree, apple trees,a peach tree and peony bushes. We had a swingset that I think I played on every day or so it seemed, and plenty of trees that my brother climbed in and "flew" out of, wearing nothing but my opaque tights, undershorts over that and a Superman cape. We had a wading pool in the side yard that was surrounded by a chain link fence where we kept Rin, who liked to climb on top of his doghouse like Snoopy. He was the wonder dog who tore up my brother's new winter coat when he wrestled with him and who we would sneak treats and petting to through the crank out windows in the dining room. My mom knew why he jumped with his muddy paws on the windows--he wanted us to come play.

My dad parked his semi truck in the front, but our car was in the carport along with our bikes, which someone stole my banana seat purple bike from there and I never had another cool bike like it again. I cried for days about it. My dog, Candy, the Pekinese, went outside from that door and often stayed out there. she was old and never went anywhere.

All these kinds of things demand my attention. I think about that little girl I was then and all that I saw and knew about this street, about the time. I went to a private church school and Sabbath school, which was like no one else I knew on this street. The story that sings in my brain and demands attention is on this street. But I ignore it. I think, "I should write this or that," but I don't know if I should write any of the story of West 11th Street.

There is no secret to writing. If you are looking for the magic or the secret, then you look in vain. Despite anything I've told you, no matter what, you must write anyway because if there is a secret, it's not really a secret, but in plain sight. Write and listen to the voices who demand to be heard right where you know. Write even if you do not know what to write. Write anyway.

I remember the day on West 11th Street when the African American woman stabbed someone and then went on a "rampage" all along the street, lashing out and running, avoiding the police who talked in monotone on the police scanner. I am not sure now if she was drunk, on drugs or had a mental instability--or maybe someone was hurting her and she just couldn't take it anymore. That could happen on West 11th Street.

These are all people I remember most vividly in my life, whom I have tried to forget, and tried to not think about any more. Then today one little line, "arrested on West 11th Street" brought it back like a flood.

You can't fix a blank page. Write. Anyway.

Stuck in the Middle with You

Do you ever feel stuck? Lately I've been stuck on several fronts. The worst part was my own writing. I was stuck and downright frozen in what direction to take. My characters were stuck. My plot was stuck. Even my genre was stuck. It was Mudlavia City here! And the more I thought about it, tried to get unstuck, the deeper I got into the mud. I was sinking fast. I was ready to quit! And I never give up. (That's my Rule #4 that I had for my P.E. students. I called them Miller's Six Rules to Live and Die By and they had to run or do pushups for not knowing them.)

So what do you do when you are stuck? When all you are writing gets into a rut and you have no idea 1. how to write out of it 2. which way to turn on the road 3. and you're out of chocolate ice cream!!!!! ? (or worse, you're on a diet?)

This is what I did--I went to a local writers conference. Yeah. Twenty minutes from my house. The conference was at my alma mater, Ball State University Alumni Center in Muncie, Indiana (Middle America--perfect.) I signed up Sunday night and showed up for the first intensive on Thursday. I didn't even know the speakers.(I hope to tell you some things about them.) I had never read my workshop instructor's fiction books.(I have three of them and look forward to them after I get my magazine reviews done.) It was an act of desperation, but I just knew I was supposed to go. So, for once I was totally obedient to God's nudging. (I have been known to be stubborn. An angel-wrestler from way back.)

And then the blessings flowed. Not all of the writers there were just like me. Some were way different than I was! But I cannot recall even one person whom I was sorry I met--in fact quite the contrary. Those people were wonderful. I had the best conversations. I loved the people I met. I got to reconnect with my mentor (and boy, did he ever help me,) Doc Hensley. I got something from each person I spoke to, whether raw beginner or seasoned pro. I was blessed by even some I didn't talk to at all, just listened to. And for once I opened myself up, sharing stuff I had long held inside. This, I believe, is what was most important for me--exposing that tender underbelly. Instead of being shredded to ribbons, I was embraced and urged to move forward.

One person who really blessed me was Dee. She asked me about my name--something I have long held in contempt because of many reasons--and suddenly I realized what my name cost my mother. She caused me to realize what a precious gift my name was.

I can't tell you how hard it is for someone who grew up like me to appear vulnerable and to trust people. It is the most difficult thing for me to do. And when I finally did trust people, many bad things happened to me, which caused me to retreat inside for years. I knew I could not move forward another step, though, if something didn't change soon. And this conference was the first step (or maybe I walked a whole mile) in this writer's journey. I came back refreshed. I had a plan on where I was going. I don't know where I'll end up, but I'm not stuck for now.

Now, if my internet ever gets back up to speed, I'll fill you in on some fabulous resources that I ran across at this conference.

Conferences are great places to go--not just to sell your writing, but to help you to move. If you get a chance, do look into the American Christian Fiction Writers conference to be held in Minneapolis (next to the Mall in America!) in September. If you write Christian fiction, you simply NEED to check this out. The only reason I went at the last minute to the Midwest Workshop was because it looks like I won't be able to go to the ACFW conference. The ACFW conference is one of the best fiction conferences in America. I was feeling so sorry for myself, but God blessed my socks off, just for being obedient. I almost passed up a truly wonderful bunch of people at the Midwest Writers Workshop.

If you can't get to a conference, there are so many online resources for you. Don't forget to stop by and tell me how you're doing in your journey.

So remember this:
Rule #4 of Miller's Six Rules to Live and Die By: Never Give Up.

I forgot my own rules. Sigh. (I guess I have 25 pushups to do now, but I'll be stronger when it's done.)

The Waiting Room Blues

Sometimes you just feel as if you are waiting forever for things to happen. I hate waiting.

Right now one of the things I'm waiting for is my internet. I'm on an alternative, slow connection until my internet is upgraded and our service resumes. It may be a couple weeks. So many things are piling up and I just have the blues for a variety of reasons contributing. I have all this stuff to do and it's just not coming easily.

One of my favorite things to say to friends in high school was "This too shall pass."

But it does seem that each time I make a commitment, then come the roadblocks, red lights and general chaos to my life.

I read in John 16:33 "In this world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world." Jesus told this to his followers and I do get a comfort from those words. It is reassuring to me that despite all the troubles, prayer requests and unfulfilled dreams that I can still take heart and know that this isn't the last word.

Breathe in. Breathe out. I've been in worse places....

The good news is that there is no snow or ice on the roads.

ACFW 2008 Book of the Year List

I was a judge in the ACFW Book of the Year contest and they have announced the finalists. Now here's a list of books to read! I won't tell you what categories I judged or what books crossed my desk, but I have read a lot of these (outside of the contest.)I'll announce the winners after the conference in September.

Because I'm a part of the Indiana ACFW, I did highlight the Indiana authors who are finalists. Also, the authors I have interviewed on When I Was Just a Kid blog are linked to their interviews!

You might want to print this list off to look for in your favorite genres:



Debut Author
Bayou Justice (Robin Miller writing as Robin Caroll)
In Between (Jenny B. Jones)
Sushi for One? (Camy Tang)
My Soul Cries Out (Sherri Lewis)
Petticoat Ranch (Mary Connealy)

Contemporary Novella (*six finalists due to a tie)
A Cloud Mountain Christmas (Robin Lee Hatcher)
Finally Home (Deb Raney in Missouri Memories anthology)
Mississippi Mud (DiAnn Mills in Sugar And Grits Anthology)
Moonlight & Mistletoe (Carrie Turansky in Big Apple Christmas anthology)
Remaking of Moe McKenna (Gloria Clover in the Race to the Altar anthology)
Sweet Dreams Drive (Robin Lee Hatcher)

Historical Novella
Beyond the Memories (DiAnn Mills in Mississippi Memories anthology)
Finishing Touches (Kelly Hake in Missouri Memories anthology)
Love Notes (Mary Davis in Love Letters anthology)
The Spinster & The Cowboy (Lena Nelson Dooley in Spinster Brides of Cactus Corner anthology)
The Spinster & The Tycoon (Vickie McDonough in Spinster Brides of Cactus Corner anthology)

Lits (*six finalists due to a tie)
Around the World in 80 Dates (Christa Banister)
One Little Secret (Allison Bottke)
Renovating Becky Miller (Sharon Hinck)
Splitting Harriet (Tamara Leigh)
Sushi for One? (Camy Tang)
The Book of Jane (Dayton/Vanderbilt)

Long Contemporary
Autumn Blue (Karen Harter)
Like Always (Robert Elmer)
Taming Rafe (Susan May Warren)
When the Nile Runs Red (DiAnn Mills)
Within This Circle (Deb Raney)

Long Historical (*seven finalists due to TWO ties)
Courting Trouble (Deeanne Gist)
Fancy Pants (Cathy Hake)
Lady of Milkweed Manor (Julie Klassen)
Remember Me (Maureen Lang)
Then Came Hope (Louise Gouge)
Veil of Fire (Marlo Schalesky)
Where Willows Grow (Kim Vogel Sawyer)

Mystery
Days And Hours (Susan Meissner)
Death of a Garage Sale Newbie (Sharon Dunn)
Gone With The Groom (Janice Thompson)
Sticks And Stones (Susan Meissner)
Your Chariot Awaits (Lorena McCourtney)

Short Contemporary
Heart of the Family (Margaret Daley)
The Heart of Grace (Linda Goodnight)
The Perfect Blend (Allie Pleiter)
Wedded Bliss (Kathleen Y'Barbo)
When Love Comes Home (Arlene James)

Short Contemporary Suspense (*six finalists due to a tie)
Caught Redhanded (Gayle Roper)
Her Christmas Protector (Terri Reed)
Nowhere to Hide (Debby Giusti)
Pursuit of Justice (Pamela Tracy)
See No Evil (Gayle Roper)
Vanished (Margaret Daley)

Short Historical (*six due to a tie)
A Time to Keep (Kelly Hake)
A Wealth Beyond Riches (Vickie McDonough)
Canteen Dreams (Cara Putman)
Corduroy Road to Love (Lynn Coleman)
Golden Days (Mary Connealy)
To Trust An Outlaw (Rhonda Gibson)

Speculative
Demon: A Memoir (Tosca Lee)
DragonFire (Donita Paul)
The Restorer (Sharon Hinck)
The Restorer's Son (Sharon Hinck)
Isle of Swords (Wayne Thomas Batson)

Suspense
Abomination (Colleen Coble)
Black Ice (Linda Hall)
Coral Moon (Brandilyn Collins)
Crimson Eve (Brandilyn Collins)
Ransomed Dreams (Amy Wallace)


Women's Fiction
A Promise To Remember (Katie Cushman)
Bygones (Kim Sawyer)
Remember to Forget (Deb Raney)
The Oak Leaves (Maureen Lang)
Watercolored Pearls (Stacy Adams)


Young Adult
In Between (Jenny B. Jones)
On The Loose (Jenny B. Jones)
Sara Jane: Liberty's Torch (Eleanor Clark)
Sarah's Long Ride (Susan P Davis)
Saving Sailor (Renee Riva)


If you leave a comment of your favorite genre, I'll enter you into a drawing to win Deb Raney's Remember to Forget.(Which I got that book from the publisher, so don't get any ideas.) Be sure to leave your contact info in this code format:
crystal.mrsinewa[at]gmailDOTcom
Enjoy!

Part 2: To Be Read or Not to Be Read...

Continued from yesterday....(see the post that began this here )


7. Do you usually have more than one book you are reading at a time?

Yes, because I picked up that habit when I was a book reviewer for magazines. When I did my column, I had to read around 10 books for every 3 I reviewed. I can read really fast if I want to. I like to mix up the types of books I'm reading at one time, too. Nonfiction, fiction and various genres. I also am a huge magazine reader. I read the newspaper cover-to-cover, too.

8. Do you read nonfiction in a different way or place than you read fiction?

Nonfiction usually requires a different part of my brain than the fiction, and sometimes with nonfiction I take notes or underline or highlight or even put post-its into the text. Fiction I just read, unless I'm working on a manuscript for someone or analyzing it for a contest.

9. Do you buy most of the books you read, or borrow them, or check them out of the library?

Ok, here's the horrible thing about me--I don't belong to a library because I live in an area where I can't get a card. (ARRGH!) I can have a library card for my alma mater college, but I rarely go there, as it is a journey and parking is awful. I get many books sent to me as ARCs (advanced reading copy) because of what I do, and I buy tons of books as well. I'm a junkie, it's true. My husband hates it.

I sometimes wish I lived in Gas City, Indiana because I've heard they carry a lot of the books I like to read at their library. I sometimes win books on blogs, too. But because I get so many books, I don't usually enter unless I haven't been able to get the book they're offering.

10. Do you keep most of the books you buy? If not, what do you do with them?

I either have to keep the ARCs or destroy them. I keep the ones(ARCs) I want to study. I do have way too many books and I lend many to others, give them away (either in person or on my blogs) or I donate them to that dratted library where I can't get a card, or to church libraries if they are Christian books. I've actually started a new wing in one church. ha

I, of course, keep my favorites! (And any unread ones that I am still hoping to get to!)I went out and bought the Little Women set of dolls by Wendy Lawton but I was unable to find Marmee, which was a heartbreak for me. I did love that book, of course.

11. If you have children, what are some of the favorite books you have shared with them?

Oh, my. My boys are now ages 23-17. My oldest loved Go Dog, Go! I also was a teacher so of course, I shared many books with my classes. I took children's literature in college and read well over 100books in that class. I wanted to be a children's author.

Shel Silverstein was my favorite by far and I used his poetry and stories for many projects.

Lord of the Rings, Best Christmas Pageant Ever, The Outsiders, To Kill a Mockingbird when they were old enough, Narnia books, Ol' Yeller, Frank Peretti books. I have four boys and read incessantly to them when they were young(I bought whole libraries of books,) but when they got older I tricked them--I would start a book and stop reading in the most exciting part. I'd tell them I didn't have time to read any further and they'd practically tear the book out of my hand to finish it themselves. It's an ol' Indian trick I used as a teacher with my sixth graders. The librarian once asked me what in the world I was doing in my classroom because kids would tear into the library requesting the very book I'd just returned. Ha!



12. What are you reading now?

A Ginger Garrett ARC called In the Shadow of the Lions.

It's for review (a magazine) and I also have 3 more stacked up to read before August 15th.
Surviving the Fitness Game by JoAnna Ward
The Mommie Diaries edited by Tally Flint
Murder by Family by Kent Whitaker

Also, for my personal reading, Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle.


I'm trying to get to Joel Rosenberg's Dead Heat. Love his books.

I also want to read Sharon Hinck's Restorer series, and Jill Elizabeth Nelson's series. I am also getting Cathy Hake's latest series, the Heartsong Mysteries line, and Sharlene MacLaren's series. I read Cathy Hake's Bittersweet and Sharon's Loving Liza Jane, both historical romances which I loved both and was hooked on new authors.



13. Do you keep a TBR (to be read) list?

No, but I have a rather HUGE TBR pile. Sigh. I have them and just stack them in baskets!

14. What’s next?
I just finished Writing for the Soul by Jerry Jenkins and picked up The Mind of Your Story by Lisa Lenard-Cook.

I'm finishing the rather large pile of Heartsong Mysteries. I'm really interested in their line, but had not had time to read but one of them so far (Suspicion of Strawberries by Lynette Sowell, which is set in my home area in Tennessee.)

I'm nor even mentioning the legion of recipe books, food books, diet books, fitness books and fashion books that I read just for fun.

15. What books would you like to reread?
I reread these books occasionally: My Life and Hard Times by James Thurber, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, On Writing by Stephen King. I don't usually pick up novels to reread because there are so many new ones to read. I sometimes will flip through one to give examples to manuscript clients.


16. Who are your favorite authors? This is probably a trick question. Ugh. I love, love, love to read.

Besides the books I've mentioned above I have a fondness for picking up these authors each time they release something else:

Lisa Wingate
John Grisham (his legal thriller books)
Siri Mitchell
Joel Rosenberg
Dee Henderson (where are you, Dee?)
Jill Elizabeth Nelson
Sharon Hinck
Brandt Dodson
Ginger Garrett
Lynn Austin
Susan Downs' and Susan Warren's Heirs of Anton
Sharlene MacLaren

and I love Indiana authors:
Cara Putman
Ramona Cecil
Colleen Coble
Diann Hunt
Denise Hunter
Janet Dean
Brandt Dodson
Rick Barry
Rachael Phillips

And new authors:
Camy Tang
Mary Connealy


and my favorite children's authors:
Wendy Lawton
Andy McGuire
as well as the ones listed on my Kids Who Grew Up to Write for Kids list above.

Any Heartsongs and Love Inspireds (especially the historicals)
Heartsong Mysteries and Love Inspired Suspense



Your turn! Do this meme on your blog and leave a link in the comments! (Or comment on a question with your own reading habits here.) I will certainly listen to your comments on your favorites!

To Be Read or Not to Be Read, That is the Question

Here I am! I'm in my office. Can you see the mess?

I'm so delighted that so many of you responded to the plea to vote for the lighthouse of your choice. Such fun! Also, thank you, Susan, for worrying about me. I have had an interesting time away from the blog. Here's what happened:

1. lots of storms and unable to log on to my computer
2. finishing up judging for ACFW Book of the Year--fun!
3. took my youngest of four sons to the Indiana State Police Career camp at Vincennes--he had a blast! And may have found his post-high school career.
4. rode the motorcycle all over the place
5. played a lot of golf (and really got my money's worth if you compare cost to shots...)

Coming up: more motorcycle rides, playing in the Symphony on the Green charity golf tournament, a road trip to Champaign, Illinois and school starts for my senior in HS. I might go to the Midwest Conference. I'm also cleaning out my clothes, books and plan on getting back to my diet--I want to lose 15 more pounds.


So now for a blog about, what else? Reading!



I stole this cool meme from Camy Tang.

1. Do you remember how you developed a love for reading?

My mother was a reader, along with her entire side of the family! I remember my Aunt Adeline, mom's older sister, got for me my first book and I have that book, The Ten Commandments, in my chest of treasures. I remember I felt like I always could read and don't remember not reading. My dog, Candy, a pekinese, was only one year younger than me and she used to steal my books and I'd chase her down.

In the private Christian school I attended 1st-5th grade I read every book in the library and loved the public library, checking out my quota every week. In 6th grade I attended public school. My teacher opened a whole new world that I had not previously been exposed to due to the restrictions of my former school. Mr. Rosen was also Jewish, and there were many things we had in common knowledge because I was drilled in Old Testament. He was fascinating to me. That was the year I started reading sports figures books. I loved Babe Zaharias and any sports story.

My cousins all liked reading. I remember we used to talk about our favorites and the cousins who lived out-of-state would write long letters about their favorites. One of my cousins, Sally Jo, who grew up in Africa and England, said she began writing because I showed her my journals as teens, and she wanted to do that(writing,) too. She published many children's books before her death last year. My cousin, Darrol, became a librarian. I remember he gave me my set of Perelandra books by C.S. Lewis for my birthday. Loved them! I remember even my sports-minded guy cousins, Mike and Danny, were always reading. Mike had a particular love for WWII books and became a pilot in the Air Force.

Two of my aunts, Mayme and Cecile, still tell me what they love to read. My mother-in-law, sisters-in-law, husband's niece and my husband's aunts all are readers and I share with them. My flower girl from our wedding, Hanna, who is now an English teacher, is starting a book club at her church and asked for recommendations.

So, yeah, reading is genetic and a family thing.

Interesting enough, though, my dad was functionally illiterate(both of my parents are dead,) and it was my greatest desire to teach reading (and I helped him before he died--with Bible reading.) He moved so often in school that he had troubles, and ended up dropping out of school in high school and running away to be a truck driver. He was so proud of me graduating from college and being a reading teacher.

I think I developed a passion for reading from a combination of these things as I grew up.

2. What are some books you read as a child?
Tiny Golden Library (which I still have)
All the Little House on the Prairie books
Any book about animals and dogs, like Black Beauty, and of course, my very favorite, Looney Coon, about this pet raccoon
Little Women books
Five Little Peppers and How They Grew
All the famous historical Americans' biographies (them as children. We had dozens of them in our library and I wish I could find some.)
Sports stories and famous sports stars
The Bible and many Bible-based story books (my favorite story was Joseph)
My Life and Hard Times by James Thurber
Edgar Allen Poe
Phyllis Whitney
Anything my mom was reading that she would allow (she screened my novels)

At 13 my mother let me read To Kill a Mockingbird and I read that over 20 times more. She also gave me Gone With the Wind and I read it in two days, because I was so afraid she would change her mind. I reread that one a few more times, too. That was also the time I started reading historicals like Chesapeake by James Michener and Captains and Kings by Taylor Caldwell. I loved historical settings. This was also the time I read books I'd missed as a child like Nancy Drew books, Hardy Boys, Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton Porter, Anne of Green Gables.


3. What is your favorite genre?

Historical romance, followed by romantic suspense, but I love about any romance, and have read a wide range of genres, including speculative. I do not enjoy the sad, painful women's fiction, though, and will avoid those at any cost.

4. Do you have a favorite novel?

Whoa, I have a lot of favorite novels, but probably my all time favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

Love Comes Softly by Janette Oke

I have to mention a few of my other favorites--
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell and
In Her Shoes by Jennifer Weiner
O'Malley Series by Dee Henderson
Chosen by Ginger Garrett
Mitford books by Jan Karon
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott
Centennial by James Michener
My Life and Hard Times by James Thurber
Eugenia Price's Lighthouse series
Chateau of Echoes by Siri Mitchell
O'Malley series by Dee Henderson
Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery
A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Any Shel Silverstein book

5. Where do you usually read?

Anywhere. I have been reading lately on my stationary bike because I'm up to 70 minutes on it. I like to read on my screened in back porch in my glider and also in bed!

6. When do you usually read?

In the morning on my daily bike ride and before bed in my bed.

To Be continued....

Vote for a Lighthouse

This is the Old Mission Lighthouse on Lake Michigan. (I'm the one holding up the parallel--ha.) We got to see it on our 25th wedding anniversary two years ago. It was established in 1870.

I love lighthouses. I don't know when I fell in love with them, but I did and I like stories about them. Lighthouses just seem so symbolic, even spiritual, they are historical and I just love the architecture of them. If you know a good fiction story with lighthouses (besides Eugenia Price's! LOVE that one) then leave me a comment with the title and author.



Jeldwin Windows and Doors is offering to restore with free windows and doors some lighthouses, but they are taking votes on which ones they will do this year right now. You have until September 7, 2008 and you can only vote once. Tell everyone about it.

And if you can't decide, then think about helping my friends' (Jan and Ken) niece in her quest to get their lighthouse chosen. Here's her request with explanation, but you, of course, can vote for your favorite.


_______________________________________
hey folks-

the lighthouse near our Maine cottage is a finalist in a restoration contest. If they win, they will receive new "historic" windows and doors. All you have to do is go onto the Jeldwen website and vote for PEMAQUID LIGHT, MAINE

http://www.jeld-wen.com/lighthouse/

You can only vote once...but each vote counts!


Thanks for voting!

____________________________________________


http://www.jeld-wen.com/lighthouse/

Do you have a favorite lighthouse? It doesn't have to be one of the ones you voted for, any lighthouse will do.

Be sure to go vote--just takes a minute.

1000 Words

I know that this looks like a painting, but no man created it--God did. It was the view we had this week out one of the windows of the log cabin we rented. No phones, no TV (but a DVD player for movies,) six warring hummingbirds over a feeder, a huge deer, and annoying little "bob white" quails who didn't let up their cry from sun up to sun down. It was perfect.

I could wake up to this every morning, but no, I live in a different area of Indiana. Just down the road from this cabin was a sawmill. That brought back memories of my Granddaddy in Tennessee who had owned a lumber mill. We have a lot of deer around where I live, but it seemed to me we saw more deer there. Maybe it was because they showed up alongside the road quite a lot.

What was a bit humorous were the six hummingbirds who fought over the tiny hummingbird feeder the owners had hung on the porch. They dove at and chased each other, zipping and buzzing with their distinctive tiny battle cry. It was a constant weave and bob, hit and miss. Occasionally one would sit at the top of the feeder, seemingly trying to "guard" the booty. I used to have a hummingbird feeder at my house and had forgotten how selfish and territorial these birds were. I remember saying to them, "Look, I've given you enough food, and there's plenty more where that came from, so you can share!" But they didn't listen. Not at all. Kind of reminds me of probably how God views us--seeing us impatient and selfish--and trying to tell us that not only does He give us plenty to share, but also gives us renewable resources.

I got tired of watching the hummingbirds. They seemed to be a violent sort of bird and wore me out. Thankfully, God doesn't give up watching over us.

I never got tired, however, of the changing skyline from the porch. The sky was always changing and it was so big. I itched to paint it as I saw it. I wanted to somehow capture the changing colors, the swirl of clouds, the wide open expanse, the changing landscape from season to season, and I longed to see it every day. That would require me to move, I suppose.

It was a view that reminded me of my previous home. It made me miss the big double rainbows off my back porch there, hanging in the sky over the horses grazing in the valley. I often wondered how such a view was still intact after so many had moved into Indiana and built so many houses, buildings, roads. Why didn't someone else settle in that spot? But there it was--pristine as back before people moved here and started settlements.

I had no fears as I looked off my 1863 log cabin porch safely tucked into and surrounded by modern civilization(somewhere out there,) but I know there were many fears for the pioneers before me who would've been living on that land back in the 1700-1800s. Weather, starvation,illnesses or accidents without Lifeline helicopters or drugs to prevent infection, hostile neighbors, and even wildlife would pose threats to life. I don't worry about those things too much, even though I suppose they still loom. I really don't worry too much about anything. There is a peace of mind that really passes understanding. I guess even the pioneers before us could've had my peace of mind since they had access to the Bible.

I'm so glad I was able to go this past week. I had a great time. Now I'm back in my own home, fussing and thinking about things that I really wish would go away. (My dog is at this moment begging to go out and it's raining out.)And my mind still wanders back to this scene-- I still want to capture it myself with paints or colored pencils, but maybe I'll just cherish it in my mind where it will remain as I saw it. For one thing, I have a lot to do (like take out my desperate dog Lizzie.)

One Fine Day

If you had a day to just do anything you wanted to, what would you do that day?


One of my friends had an opportunity to do that and we relished the day with her when she reported in by email, since none of us live close enough to share the time.

It made me think about how we spend a lot of our time--rushing around, doing chores, complaining, grousing, worrying and feeling stress about it all. We make choices everyday about what we will do. I've heard people gripe about their chosen profession--complaining about the very thing they chose to do. Have you ever worked with someone like that? If you have, you know it makes the workplace unpleasant.

One of my favorite movies is Groundhog Day with Bill Murray and Andy McDowell. A grouchy, ug of a weatherman, Phil, is a person no one likes. He is sent to cover Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney, PA , and when he wakes up the next morning, he finds that the day repeats itself over and over. In fact it goes on seemingly for years.

He starts off desperately hating the day, hateful to everyone, and then, moves to a self-indulgent phase where he steals, uses people and kicks the homeless beggar man to the curb. From there he plunges into depression, killing himself each day and waking up to start the day all over again. It's like God is telling him, "You're going to live this day until you get it right." All through it, he is in love with with Andy's character. She is a beautiful woman, his boss who has dreams and loves French poetry. At first he pursues her, tries to learn every single thing about her, and uses that info to try and seduce her. It turns out ugly and she hits him--a lot.

Finally, he starts to get it right. He takes piano lessons one day at a time. He saves a kid falling from the tree--every day, same time, same place. He buys insurance from the creepy guy from his high school. He changes the flat tire for the little old ladies. He saves the mayor from choking to death. He takes the old man in for a bowl of soup, takes him to the hospital. The old man dies, every single day. He desperately tries to save him, until finally a nurse says, "It's just his time." But he gives the old man one good day to die on. Reminds me of the Native American who said, "This is a good day to die," when fighting for his homeland.

He goes on to learn to do ice sculptures and finally is able to do an ice sculpture of the woman he loves. When she asks him how he did that, he just says that he has studied her inside and out and knows every curve of her face. It's a good day. A beautiful day.

Same day. Same things, same people, same storm comes, same ol' groundhog. But he learns to love the day and is satisfied with doing the same things over and over. It's a great movie with a wonderful lesson. He changes, not the day or the people. He learns to laugh and have fun, love everyone in town and enjoy the gifts he is given.

I was thinking about this a lot. What would be one fine day for you? I may have to come up with some things. Name some things that you would love to do in a day. Living as long as I have, I know the days I loved and the days I would rather forget.

But everyone would love to have one fine day.


(Hopefully, my days will be with electricity. We've been having a lot of storms and losing power a lot. Sigh.)

What Instrument Should You Play?

My friend, Nancy, who has these simply beautiful blog posts which just speak to my soul,(and I always want to write those things!) did this test to see what kind of an instrument she should play. She tested for a harp. It suits her and she has beautiful hands.

I decided to try it. Interestingly enough, I'm supposed to play a guitar. I started playing guitar at age 12 and still have three beautiful guitars--one electric and two accoustics.(one was my first guitar in the photo below) I can't play so well anymore due to my bum fingers, but all of my boys and husband play(and play many instruments.)

I did write songs, but my son, Jordan, writes fabulous songs and he is a natural musician who taught himself to play the guitar on my first guitar and looking through my music. (I was never that good.) But anyway, it was interesting. What instrument should you play?

You Should Play the Guitar

You're very independent - both in spirit and in the way you learn. You can teach yourself almost anything, even if it makes your fingers bleed. You're not really the type to sit patiently through a music lesson - or do things by the book. It's more your style to master the fundamentals and see where they take you. Highly creative and a bit eclectic, you need a wide range of music to play. You could emerge as a sensitive songwriter... or a manic rock star. Your dominant personality characteristic: being rebellious Your secondary personality characteristic: tenacity

What Musical Instrument Should You Play?

Here is my family and some of their performing moments:








(Above) All the boys, a few years back

Indiana Authors

I belong to the American Christian Fiction Writers organization and I'm president of the Indiana ACFW Chapter. You may have noticed that I often talk about Christian authors in this cafe'. I have been a book reviewer for magazines in the past, and I now am a freelance manuscript reviewer/reader. I've written articles and columns in the past. Anyway, I'm particularly excited about our members who are having a booksigning in Lafayette, Indiana at the Carpenter's Son Bookstore this Saturday.

If you are in the area, please stop by! (and look me up, too.) If you can't be there, be sure to check out these books and pick up some summer reading. There is something for every kind of reader here.

Big Book Signing in Lafayette, Indiana

COME AND MEET YOUR INDIANA AUTHORS!
Date: 05/31/2008
Saturday
Time: 1:00-3:00 pm
The Carpenter’s Son Bookstore will host several well known and some new Indiana authors Saturday, May 31st. Colleen Coble, Denise Hunter, Brandt Dodson, Diann Hunt, Cara Putman and Jamie Carie will be part of the signing. Please join us for this wonderful signing event!

The Carpenter’s Son
1165 S. Creasy Lane
Lafayette, IN 47905
(765) 448-6434
(800) 735-0290 Toll Free

The Authors



Colleen Coble





Author Colleen Coble's thirty novels and novellas have won or finaled in awards ranging from the Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award, the Holt Medallion, the ACFW Book of the Year, the Daphne du Maurier, National Readers' Choice and the Booksellers Best awards. She writes romantic suspense because she loves to see justice prevail and love begin with a happy ending.


Denise Hunter









Denise lives in Indiana with her husband Kevin and their three sons. In 1996, Denise began her first book, a Christian romance novel, writing while her children napped. Two years later it was published and she’s been writing ever since. Her books often contain a strong romantic element, and her husband Kevin says he provides all her romantic material, but Denise insists a good imagination helps too!


Diann Hunt





Diann writes: The first autumn season of our empty nest, my husband and I began a weekly three-mile trek down the gravel roads of Amish country. One night I decided to put our walk on paper and sent it into a magazine which was later published. I never dreamed that God would take our empty nest, a peaceful walk, and a computer to create a new life and ministry for me. But He did. My once empty house is now cluttered with papers and books. Our cupboards that once bulged with chips and cupcakes, now old fat-free chips (can we say cardboard?) and low carb sweets.
I wish the kids would come back.
Still, knowing this is the way of life, I've learned to adjust. I started this writing adventure seven years ago, and I can honestly say this new season of my life has helped me through the crisis of the empty nest. Now if only I could stay focused when our granddaughters call my name...

Cara Putman








Cara says, "I am a woman living a dream God planted in my heart years ago. I’ve always inhaled books, and as a homeschooled teen decided to try my hand at writing. At that time, historical fiction was about all that was avail¬-able in the Christian market, so that’s what I wrote. I went to college (Go Huskers!), moved to the Washington, DC area, married the man of my dreams, worked in the non-profit world, went to George Mason Law School at night , and then started having children. My life was far from empty, but the dream wouldn’t die. In 2005 we at¬tended a book signing at our local Christian bookstore, Carpenter's Son. There I met my dear friend Colleen Coble. My first book, Canteen Dreams, released from Barbour's Heartsong Presents line in October followed by Sandhill Dreams in May 2008 and Captive Dreams in September 2008. These the stories of my heart, since I get to tell the world about the wonderful people of my home state, Nebraska. And I’m thrilled that Love Inspired Suspense will publish my first romantic suspense Deadly Exposure in May."






Jamie Carie








Jamie Carie is an inspirational fiction novelist who believes in the power of “story” to touch hearts and change lives. Her debut novel, Snow Angel, a USA News Book award winner, is a can’t-put-down story of redemption, hope and healing. Her second novel, The Duchess and the Dragon, is a passionate tale of love between a reckless Duke and a serene Quaker woman. Jamie lives in Indianapolis, Indiana with her husband and three boys… and a giant of a dog named Leo.







Brandt Dodson





Brandt Dodson was born and raised in Indianapolis, where he graduated from Ben Davis High School and, later, Indiana Central University (now known as The University of Indianapolis. It was during a creative writing course in college that a professor said; “You’re a good writer. With a little effort and work, you could be a very good writer.” That comment, and the support offered by a good teacher, set Brandt on a course that would eventually lead to the Colton parker Mystery Series.