And in between promo I have to do what???

Okay, it's been 12 days since I turned in my last book and time to jump back into the book that is due on December 1st.

But wait--I've got a book coming out on November 3rd and I must promote!

For the past 5-6 weeks, I've spend every minute of my (so-called) free time signing bookmarks.  I signed 1400 of the new bookmarks and 840 of my "combo" (listing the first two books in the series) bookmarks. These bookmarks were destined for wonderful independent bookstores.  These are the people on the front lines who are handselling my books. (Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!)  Of course, there are many chain booksellers handselling my books, but they haven't made themselves known to me or requested bookmarks.

Yesterday I took my second HUGE tote bag full of packages to the Post Office.  You can't tell me they're losing money--not with all I've spent this year.

Over the weekend, I signed 112 postcards (adding three stickies--address label, message label, and polar bear stamp).  These are for bookclubs.  I've still got another 469 to sign and sticker for my faithful readers.

Can you say WRITERS CRAMP???

So far I've got four blog posts written for my blog tour.  (Okay, so I only have three dates set up--I hope there's still time to find more.)  I have five of six weekends booked for promotion in November and December (and I'm trying to decide if I should go to the CrimeBake conference on the week I don't have anything planned).

And sometime during all this promo -- I have to finish another book. (The first in the Victoria Square Mysteries.)  Luckily, the book is in good shape--but still, it needs work.

Is it any wonder I'm yanking my hair out in hanks?

WHO THREW THE SWITCH?

Holy Crap!  It's fall!

I mean, I waited a-l-l winter for spring, which came and went, and then it was summer.  Ahhh...summer.  The roses bloom.  You plant cosmos (which always disappoint me) and other annuals, plus the veggie crop (we've had green beans for dinner almost every night for at least four weeks) and now the counter is overflowing with tomatoes.

But sitting out on the enclosed porch in the evening is getting to be a tad uncomfortable.  Instead of wearing T-shirts, it's suddenly sweatshirt weather.  (And my big blue sweater has come back out of the closet.  Heck, I'm wearing it as I type this!)  I've also taken to (gasp) wearing my slippers, because my feet are cold.

The catnip is starting to shrivel up.  (Chester doesn't mind.  He prefers dried to fresh catnip.)  The perky black-eyed Susans aren't so perky anymore.  In fact, they're turning a disgusting brown.  The arborvitae is turning orange--its version of "needle cast," as it gets ready to toss it's old leaves (?) onto the pool cover.

And today the calendar confirmed it:  the first day of fall.  Next thing you know, the leaves will fall off the trees en mass.  We'll be raking until our hands flap with blisters.  It'll rain five days out of seven.

Snow can't be far behind.

Bummer.

Pet Peeve Thursday (FRIDAY EDITION): Pets locked in hot cars

Yesterday I came out of Sam's Club and walked toward my car, noticing that a car parked nearby (a shiny, new-looking, white Mercury Marquis) with the cutest little black poodle sitting on the rear window ledge, panting, with its tongue hanging out. (It looked just like the picture at right.)  I circled the car and saw that only one window was open, and less than two inches.

What to do, what to do.

I had another errand to do at the end of the plaza, and decided that if the dog was still there when I was done with that errand, I would do something.

While it wasn't a really hot day, when I got in it, my own car was damn hot after sitting there for only ten minutes.
I came back ten minutes later, and the dog was still there. I took down the license number and went back into Sam's Club. The woman at the door said, "there's nothing we can do legally." Oh yeah? I told her I would go to the service desk and report it anyway. And I did. The woman on duty took down the information, got on the public address system and said, "Will the owners of the white Mercury Marquis, Licence number XXX-XXX please go to your car. Your dog needs assistance." She repeated the announcement.

I thanked her and went back to my car.
And waited.

After another ten minutes, I called nine one one.

Then I waited some more.  In fact, I waited another twenty-three minutes.  During that time, the little dog got pretty agititated, panting a lot harder.  And I got a lot angrier.

The woman I'd originally spoken to at Sam's Club came out after 15 minutes from my call and asked, "Is that dog still in the car?"

I told her "yes."

Needless to say, the police didn't show up.  When the older woman and her husband came out to the parking lot, I asked her, "Is this your car?"

"Yeah."

"I just want you to know I've called nine one one and gave them your license number. Your dog has been locked in that hot car for at least 43 minutes that I know of."

She said, "Mind your own business," and walked to the car, took the dog out, then helped her husband unload their cart.

The woman from Sam's came out again.  "Did you confront her?" she asked.

"Yes, and she blew me off."

She shook her head.  Now she was almost as upset as me.

The older woman abandoned her cart (why is it people can't put their carts in the return--and doesn't this say more about her (lack of) character)) and kissed her little dog.

"You're kissing your dog now.  But what if he'd died in that hot car?"

"I've been checking on him every five minutes since I went into the store."

Somehow, I refrained from yelling:  LIAR!!!  Instead, I said:  "I've been standing here for over twenty minutes and you have not been out here once."

This time she screamed at me, "MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS."

The whole ordeal was incredibly upsetting.  That thoughtless woman does not deserve to have a wonderful little dog like that.

What should I have done differently?

PET PEEVE THURSDAY--Discarded Gum

Is there anything more disgusting than seeing someone spit onto the pavement and walk away, leaving something behind for you to step in?  Gross as that is--it's almost as gross to see, or step in--a fresh wad of sticky gum.

Our new Wegmans store had been open two days when we finally got around to visiting it and we were astounded at how many gum cuds littered the fresh asphalt outside the store.  Just yesterday I did my shopping and as I walked toward the store, I passed a nicely landscaped area and there they were, a number of gum cuds.  One bright green wad of gum really stood out against the fresh, brown mulch.

Not ten feet from this huge wad of gum was a garbage container--not to mention all the gum on the asphalt.  What is wrong with people that they can't discard their disgusting (possibly germ-filled) gum in the proper place?

Grrrrrrrrrr!

And what's bothering YOU today?

It's ALIVE!!!

I’ve had to do a lot of cooking and baking while testing the recipes I include in my Booktown Mystery series. For the most part, it’s fun. (Okay, maybe not that time I had to make and remake the savory muffins until my husband pleaded with me to STOP ALREADY!!!) But there’s one thing I have never attempted: anything with yeast.

Well, sort of.

Years ago, I attempted to make homemade pizza. I didn’t want to bother with yeast, so I bought a roll of frozen bread dough, which the recipe’s author assured me was A-OK with her. I followed the package directions, added my sauce, pepperoni, and vegetables on top and popped it in the oven. Some 20 minutes later I was horrified to open the oven and find that my pizza dough had risen to about three inches high, knocking off most of my toppings. And that’s when I realized it: the yeast in the dough was ALIVE and probably had been out to get me.

Gulp.

One of my favorite coffee table books is The Romance of Country Inns by Gail Grecco. In it, she includes a recipe for cinnamon rolls. She has included a gorgeous photograph (of not only the cinnamon rolls, but of Sedona, AZ as a backdrop. (Gail’s husband Tom Bagley is a professional photographer and has taken photos for most of her cookbooks.) I must have had that book for a decade (or more) and looked at that lovely photo and longed to make those cinnamon buns, except . . . they’re made with yeast.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to assemble the ingredients to make bread, right? Then why does the thought of adding that little yeast packet to warm water terrify me so? Is it because it’s a living thing, or that it might go out of control – or is my mother’s not-so-great results at breadmaking. (If you ask her, she’ll say every loaf was a success—okay, they were, if you ate it right out of the oven and spread with a lovely layer of butter, but otherwise– Sorry, Mum.)

I’m determined to make those darn cinnamon buns one day. In fact, I’ve assembled at least ten different versions of the recipe in hopes that one day I’ll gather up my courage and JUST DO IT.
But not just yet. I have to find the courage to do so.

And what are you afraid to cook?

Oh how I LOVE to get royalty checks

Yesterday, I was having a really BAD morning.  It was meltdown time.  Tears, noseblowing, the works.  And then I came home and found an envelope from one of my publishers in the mailbox.
No, it didn't take away from my upset, but it did make me smile.  Why?  Not because it was a huge check.  It wasn't.  In fact, it was for $9.04.  But since the audiobook for Murder on The Mind had only been out about two weeks before the end of the royalty period, and most publishers won't even cut a check for less than $25 -- I was delighted to see anything.  (Hubby suggested I take him to McDonalds for lunch.)

Mind you, there was absolutely no promotion for the audiobook.  I haven't done much because -- how do you promote it?  (And if you have any ideas on that, I would LOVE to hear it.) So getting a royalty check is pretty amazing.

Next month I hope to get a much bigger royalty check for my better selling books.  I'm looking forward to that.  (There's a roof that needs fixing, etc.)  But that doesn't take away from the pleasure I got from that little check, because Murder On The Mind is the little book that could.  It came out as a hardcover that did not sell well.  It came out as a paperback and sold over 21,000 copies.  Now it's out in audio and as a Kindle download.  Just this morning, I got an e-mail from a reader in Canada who'd found the book.  I'm so pleased that people are still discovering the Jeff Resnick series.   And despite the series currently being on hiatus, I haven't given up that all the books (including the two that haven't yet been published) will find a bigger audience.


I'm crossing my fingers as hard as I can.

Poached!

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen pears or salmon poached on various cooking shows. (About ten years ago, you couldn’t open a cookbook or a magazine without some poor pear being scalded to death.)

About the only thing I’ve ever eaten poached is eggs. I didn’t even realize I liked them until I made them a few years ago for my parents when we were all at the family’s summer cottage. Of course, this was the first time I’d ever made them and I realized why I’d never liked them before. My folks like theirs runny so that they have something to soak into their toast. I like my eggs poached HARD. (I also eat my fried eggs broken and cooked hard.)

They (and the cottage they outfitted) had special pans with rings and little poaching cups. The problem was, they were made for four eggs. I have seen plastic poaching cups you can use in the microwave, but to tell you the truth, I don’t trust them. Hey, look at the plastic baby bottles the government okay’d and now they’re saying—hold it! Don’t heat the milk in those bottles, because potentially hazardous chemicals leach out of the plastic and into the milk.

Therefore, I figured poached eggs were only for larger gatherings (my husband won’t eat them) or cook one or two and waste all that energy on the stove. I voiced that opinion and Mom casually said, “Why don’t you just poach an egg in a coffee mug in the microwave?”

Hello! Can you say breakfast in a jiffy?

Okay, it did take me a few tries before I got it right—and heaven forbid if you forget to prick the yoke before you nuke it. KABOOM! Exploded egg all over the microwave.  (In fact, it doesn't hurt to prick the egg several times.  Seems like when I fork it, it never explodes.)

I use a standard coffee mug, fill it with about an inch of boiling water right out of the kettle, drop in an egg or two (depending on how hungry I am) and zap it for about 90  seconds, drain off the water, and pop my little poached egg onto a plate with a dollop of butter, a generous shake of pepper, and a side of toast. Mmmm. Nice hot breakfast.

What’s your favorite quick, hot breakfast?

Promo is FUN! (?)

For the past few days, I've been sitting in my office surrounded by the things I need for promotion for my upcoming BOOKPLATE SPECIAL.  Thousands of bookmarks, postcards, bubble envelopes, stamps, labels and lists and lists of addresses (most in disarray, despite the fact I've been working on them off and on for months).

And now I realize -- oops -- I ought to do a blog tour, too.

I must be out of my mind.  I try (often don't make it) to post here five days a week, plus I blog for Writers Plot (Tuesdays) and The Cozy Chicks (Saturdays).  Sometimes it's hard to come up with a blog posts.  For this blog, I feel like I'm hanging out with friends (Hi, y'all!), but for WP and CC I feel a bit more pressure to be . . . well, ON.  And now I need to be ON a few guest blogs during November to push the book.  So I guess I should start contacting people with blogs and asking to guest post.

*Sigh*

I've have LOTS of blogging friends, so it's not like I'll hear "NO WE DON'T WANT YOU," but the thing is . . . once I have a confirmation, I've got to write the blog posts.

Actually, I've often thought that I had nothing of particular interest to say to warrant being a guest anywhere, but Bookplate Special is a different kind of book.  It has two themes that I should be able to mine for lots of blog posts, so that's good.  But we're back to . . . writing the posts.

Didn't I just wish for more hours in the day???

Happy Labor Day!

Okay, I admit it.  I never actually knew what Labor Day was all about until I decided to take a look on Wikipedia.  As a kid growing up, I didn't care.  Labor Day meant the last Monday before dreaded school started, and oh yeah--the Jerry Lewis Telethon.  (And how come he raised all that money and they still don't have a cure, eh?)

 After I started working, Labor Day meant a three-day weekend.  It also meant the end of cottage season.  My brothers would yank their boats out of the water, haul in the water line, and you were done with summer.  (Thanks to electric heat and municipal water, cottage season can now be extended by two months on both ends of the summer.)

Today Labor Day means . . . labor.  I'm gearing up for promotion for my next book (Bookplate Special, and it's already available for pre-ordering (although why they call it PRE-ordering when you can just ORDER it is beyond me).  I've been writing press releases (okay, just one--but I've been working and reworking it), signing bookmarks, working on my mailing lists, and getting my print orders, well, ordered).  Hopefully there'll be some time for a cookout or at least some kind of easy-to-assemble dinner, because I'm planning to work at this ALL DAY.

And how are you celebrating Labor Day?

SOUP'S ON

The other day on Writers Plot, my friend Kate Flora waxed poetically about how the onset of falls makes her yearn for hot breads and muffins.  It must be that snap in the air that arrived rather suddenly this week that makes us want to ditch the picnic food (well, I could eat a little more potato salad) and start cooking up cold-weather comfort food.

But as much as I like quick breaks an d muffins, when fall rolls around, I want my soup.  Homemade preferred.

It wasn't so long ago that when I went to a diner, I almost always ordered the soup.  I'm especially fond of vegetable soup and New England clam chowder.

 But it seemed to me that more than soup I was getting brine.  Way WAY too much salt in the soup.  So I've had to give up ordering the soup.  (Except for Chinese hot and sour soup--so far that seems to have escaped excessive sodium, and how long will that last?)

Canned soups have always been too salty for me.  Lately I've taken to buying the reduced sodium versions.  Why is it if they leave out the salt the store feels they need to charge twice as much for the product?  And, unfortunately, too often if they skimp on the salt, they double up the high-fructose corn syrup.  I don't want sweet soup.

So, more often than not, I make my own soup.  I'm sure it costs triple what a can of soup costs, but it tastes great, it fills the house with a wonderful aroma, and it's good for me.

I like to make chicken soup (I prefer turkey soup, but we only cook a bird once a year--not my choice, mind you, I could eat it year round.  Too bad others in the family don't feel the same).  We buy roasted chicken from the local grocery store, which gives us four meals and then soup.  Okay, only two servings of soup, but that makes a fine lunch.

I don't have a recipe.  I boil the chicken bones for an hour or so, strain off the broth, toss the bones, throw in an onion, celery, and some frozen mixed vegetables, and in 20 minute--voila!  Lunch.  For seasoning, I toss in some ground pepper and maybe one or two shakes of salt, but nothing like what comes in processed soups.  I'll break out the bread and butter or saltines (which aren't very salty these days--must have used all that salt in the processed soup), and what a great meal.

Okay, I'm off to the kitchen.  I've got that chicken carcass to pick and soup on the menu.

Want to share your favorite soup recipe?

Back In The Saddle Again

A week or so ago, I sent my work in progress out to three first readers and yesterday I received the last of the comments.  Overall, they liked it.  (Whew!) Now I'm working on the rewrite.

I wish I could say I have a nice, leasurely amount of time to turn this puppy around, but I don't.  It has to arrive on my editor's desk on September 7th.  Last time around, I pushed the envelope and didn't get the manuscript ready to go until the day before the deadline.  No problem, I said, and moseyed on down to the local UPS Store.  I nearly hemmoraged (or at least my wallet did) when I learned that to overnight the manuscript was going to cost me a whopping $40.  That ain't gonna happen again.

The rewrite is going well, and I might even finish up later today.  The thing that's holding me back?  Testing those recipes.  I have a feeling I'll be cooking my butt off this weekend as I make several different versions of each dish until I'm satisfied.  (Including a coconut cake--but wait, it's my birthday.  What's wrong with having three birthday cakes, right?)

Rewrites are either a pain in the butt or a lot of fun.  This one is fun because so far my first readers haven't found too much wrong.  And I love it that they've (hopfully) found all the typos and glitches.  That makes me look good.  I want to please my editor and if he enjoys reading the ms. and is happy he doesn't have to do much work on it--we're both very happy.

But in the meantime, it's back to those recipes.

Oh, let me eat cake!

Wrapping up the summer

For the next few days, I'll be dogsitting sweet little Jessie.  She usually goes to Doggy Daycare, but even daycare-givers need a vacation once in a while, so it's up to me to keep Jessie company during the day.

Jessie's owners have the delux cable TV selection.  Here at Casa de Lorna, we have the cheapie package.  (Four locals, (snowy) CNN, and the Weather Channel.)  Can you say HGTV all day long?

I usually only get to see HGTV when we're on vacation, and then my poor husband's eyes glaze over and I wonder if his brainwaves become dangrously inactive.  For some reason he doesn't find househunting, bathroom and kitchen renovation (and on the cheap) or curb appeal to be . . . well, all that appealing.  Not me.  I LOVE it!  Hand me a pair of toothpicks to keep my eyes open, and I'll watch it 24/7.

I've also lined up a bunch of projects that I can do away from my office, although not necessarily away from a computer.  (Jessie's owners have broadband, too!)

This "chore" is beginning to sound more like a vacation, to me.

And how's the end of your summer look?

POTATOES GALORE . . .

Well, not quite.

I’m afraid my family sees my efforts to raise potatoes as rather a joke.  After all, you can buy a five pound bag at the grocery store for less than $2.  And I must admit my yearly yield isn’t much more than a couple of pounds.  But that’s not why I grow them.  I grow them for the enjoyment of eating something I have grown.  And, as my husband pointed out, every vegetable we grow is free of pesticides.  What’s wrong with that?

I must admit I don’t go out and buy seed potatoes.  By the end of the winter, I usually end up with half a bag of bulk white potatoes that have eyes in them.  I let them mature in my pantry and by late May, I’m ready to plant.  (Mind you, I have tried seed potatoes that I bought at the Mennonite store.  Maybe it was just a bad year for seed potatoes, but it seems I’ve done better with my grocery store rejects.)

I tried planting potatoes in the ground and not only did I not have a great crop, but it was difficult to find them all.  So, for the past couple of years I’ve been growing them in a big plastic tub.  As they’re confined to a small area, naturally there won’t be hundreds of potatoes, nor are they tremendously big.

Some years my potato plants have flowered, but most years they have not.  I keep thinking that one day I’ll read up on potato husbandry, but there’s usually something more important (like keeping us in clean laundry) that needs to be done.

I harvested my 2009 potato crop last week.  First, I waited until the plants were all shriveled up, and then I pulled them from the soil.  Next, I dumped the entire tub onto a plastic tarp.  This made it easy to keep track of everything. I was delighted that upon dumping, I saw quite a few decent sized potatoes.  I have a little (child’s) bamboo rake, and I used that to rake through the dirt to find even the tiniest potatoes.  (We’re talking the size of your baby fingernail.)

That night, I boiled the smallest potatoes until they were tender, drained them, and dumped a big gob of butter into the saucepan, along with a handful (about a third of a cup) of chopped fresh parsley (also from the garden) and mixed it all together.

Yum!

Dodging the Deadline Bullet

I once thought that I worked well under pressure, but it turns out I was tragically mistaken.  I thought I thrived on deadline pressure--but I was only fooling myself.

For the last three or four months, I have been living under the belief that my writing deadlines were fierce and possibly unattainable.  I've been beating myself up for NOT READING MY CONTRACT closer before I signed.  I've got multiple things going in my life.  The pressure has been building, and Mylanta has become my new best friend.

But then on Thursday I decided ENOUGH--it was time to know exactly what my deadlines were for the next five books.  I hauled out my contracts and made a chart of when things are actually due and was pleasantly surprised.

Misapprehension #1:  I thought I had to have the synopsis written for Booktown #5 by September 1st.   Nope--it's not due until JANUARY first.  First major sigh of relief.

Understading #2:  The first Victoria Square book (A Matter of Murder) is due on December 1st.  All too true.  And, as the book is in good shape, I have plenty of time to polish it.

Misapprehension #2:  Booktown #5 is due March 1st.  Nope--it's not due until June 1st.  Yea!  I have nine months to write it (or six, if I don't start it until January--and that's not my plan at all).

Misapprehension #3:  That I have only three months between deadlines for my books.  Untrue.  I have three months between deadlines of book and synopses.  That is:  synopsis for one book due in March (Victoria Square #2); Booktown #5 manuscript due in June, etc.  Okay, September 2010 is a bit dicey as I have a manuscript due AND a synopsis due the same month (10 days apart), but with this much advance notice, I think I'm okay.

This is a HUGE weight off my mind.  My only hope is that real life doesn't get in the way of these deadlines.

PET PEEVE THURSDAY--Irresponsible Pet Owners

Behind our house is a farmette, one of the few left in our suburb.  Unfortunately, they have barn cats.

Cats they don't neuter or spay.  Ten years ago, we took one of the cats to our vet to have it spayed, thinking it was a young cat in heat--thinking we would keep it.  Only to find that Mollie was Ollie, who was much older than we thought (by about a year).  We knew we could not have a formerly unneutered male cat introduced with our two male cats because one that sprays its urine to mark its territory will ALWAYS spray to mark its territory--and we couldn't live with that.  So we contacted our local non-kill shelter, paid the cost of all shots and turned Ollie over to them (After spending over $300) and felt terrible and horrible for a very LONG, LONG time.  (Okay, we still feel rotten about it.)

But . . . the farm cats seem to go on and on.  My mom's friend lives about a half mile up the road from us.  She lives on the south end of the farm and she's been feeding (and taking these cats to the vet) for years.

We first saw Orange Kitty with Stumpy Tail last fall. We also saw her many times over the winter, and felt sorry for her.  And then we didn't see her at all until last week.  Farm cats seem to come and go.  The other day, we saw Orange Kitty in our front yard with a mouse in her mouth (at the time, we didn't know she was a she) and said, "Go, Farm Kitty--Keep those mousies from coming into our house."

We've seen her coming and going since then.  But last night we were sitting in our enclosed porch when she came into the backyard, causing all kinds of kitty excitment.  Except that Bonnie saw Orange Cat and got so hot and bothered she attacked the first cat she saw--her ailing sister.  Then Chester and Fred saw Orange Cat on the deck and hot all interested.  You could almost see the thought balloons over their heads:  "Think we can kill this bitch?"

Orange Cat retreated to the rose campion portion of the garden.  Then suddenly we saw not only Orange Cat, but teenaged Black-And-Orange Cat and teenaged Orange Cat.  That's when we knew that Orange Cat was Mama Orange Cat.  And how many other teenaged kittens were lurking in the foiliage on the west end of our yard?  (Well, it turns out at least ONE more Orange teenaged cat.)
My family has a summer cottage in the next county, and I can't tell you how many ads there are in the weekly rag not only for FREE KITTENS but "Moving, please take our (aged) cat" ads there are every week and it breaks my heart.  What is with these people?  Why are pets disposable to so many damned people?

If you aren't willing to take on the responsibility of a pet for its entire life (or heaven for forbid for a HUMAN CHILD) DON'T DO IT!  This isn't rocket science.  Spay and neuter your pet.  I'm not a PETA maniac, whose agenda really seems to be to outlaw pet ownership altogether, but let's face it--not spaying or neutering your pet and turning their offspring loose to fend for themselves is nothing short of animal abuse.

PLEASE, PLEASE support your local no-kill shelters.  Please donate money so that people without means can have their pets neutered and NOT contribute to the booming population of unwanted animals that will either die from traffic accidents, or be eaten by other preditors (coyotes in my area), or die of disease.

If you have an ounce of compassion in you--please help these poor creatures.
And what's bugging YOU today?

The minutiae of my life

When I had a day job, I got stuck with a lot of nit-picky work.  It turns out, I was very good at it and--heavens, even enjoyed it!  I typed in lots of numbers, and updated all kinds of obscure information on various data bases and then got lots of printouts and spreadsheets I could pour over.  It was heaven!  Of course it was the ONLY good part of my job.  (My management sucked, but that's life.)  So is it any wonder that I love to play with my spreadsheets and databases in real life?

I have five separate mailing lists: four e-mail and one snail mail.  Yesterday I sent out one of my periodic newsletters.  Consequently, I spent most of my free time yesterday playing with the mailing lists, and watching my stats rise (and not nearly enough).

One of my lists is new to me and I'd never actually used it, although I've been cleaning it up for the last two months.  (Removing duplicates and bad addresses.)  Despite all those hours pouring over the list, 10% were still bad addresses (bounces) and 9% of the list unsubscribed.  (Did I offend them?)
As part of the newsletter, I offered a contest.  (It's just for the newsletter people--so if you want to get in on the next contest, you have to join the newsletter list.  I'll be giving away more books in October.

There's a sign up box right on the right.  Go ahead--sign up now.  I'll wait for you to get back to this post.)

For this contest, people had to answer three easy questions about the Booktown Mystery series.  I was surprised at how many people got one of the answers wrong.  And one of the answers to one question (the name of Tricia's cat) was hilarious.  Wow--I was amazed at the number of readers who entered.  I wish I had more copies of the book to give away (I've got three).

I'm back to polishing the ms. today, so no playing with my lists and spreadsheets for another month or so when the next newsletter comes out.

Darn.

How I Eat Green Beans

Since I blogged about my garden the other day, especially about how much I love green beans, I thought I might share how I cook them.

I first ate these beans at a Chinese Buffet.  In those day, they added almonds.  I haven't seen them cooked that way in quite some time, but that doesn't stop me from fixing them that way.

First, I get out a skillet and put in an inch or so of water.  Plop the washed beans in the water (I like them whole, but you can cut them in segments or French style) and bring to a boil.  Cook until tender.  Drain the water and toss in a tablespoon or two of olive oil, and a tablespoon (or more) of either slivered or sliced almonds.  Cook until the almonds are browned.

We also eat the beans boiled with dried onion and rosemary.  I put in a tablespoon or two of dried onion, and a couple of pinches of dried rosemary (fresh is always better) and boil until your preferred level of tenderness.

As you can see, I'm not big about measuring for these recipes.

(Oh, and how do I eat my green beans?  With a fork, of course!)

How do you cook your green beans?

Mid-August Crop Report

Considering we've had a very yucky summer--weather wise--our gardens have had a wonderful season.  From the perennials to the annuals to our crops.  After the horrific hail storm in late June, we were afraid we'd lose most of our veggies, but Mother Nature is strong, and all of them (even the heirloom tomato seedlings) rebounded magnificently.  (This little guy is the biggest of 11--I'm hoping some of them will ripen before the end of the season (I started them reallllllllly late.))  I can't quite remember what a ripe one looks like.  (I bought one at the farmer's market and saved the seeds.)  It'll either be purple with green stripes, or green with purple stripes.

We've been enjoying home-grown beans for a little over a week now, and there's nothing like it.  I bought some (bush) beans at the farmer's market, but they were nothing like the pole beans I've grown right in my own back yard.  I love going out there every day and finding more to pick.  This was what we had for dinner last night.  (Yeah, I know--it's a lot for two people, but I could make a meal on just these beans.)

The potato plants are starting to shrivel up, which means that in a week or two, I can harvest my crop.  Okay, usually my crop is extremely small--in both size and number of potatoes.  Still, I enjoy growing them.  I usually do them in a tub (as pictured), but this year I also planted some in the ground.  Those never came up, so whatever we get--we get to eat.

Wouldn't you know, I got a stomach bug in early July, and since then, anything with acid (think spaghetti sauce, anything with vinegar) has given me heartburn.  So I'm wondering if I'll be able to eat any of our tomatoes, and we're going to have a bumper crop this year.  I lost count in the 40s (don't count your tomatoes until they've ripened?)  There's nothing like the smell of a fresh-picked tomato.  It will break my heart if I don't get to eat these beauties.  (We're picking this one later today.)

Our broccoli didn't do well.  From five plants, we got enough for one meal before it started going to seed.  The Brussels sprouts are just starting to form and the plants are getting huge.  Hard to believe they were plants with only two or three leaves when we planted them.  One of my parsley plants didn't make it, but the other has been fantastic and we've eaten a lot of parsley potatoes this summer.  Of the four pepper plants, only three have one pepper each.  One of them is HUGE, the other two are tiny.  I'm thinking of trying jalapeno peppers next year -- maybe from seed, as the pepper plants I've bought for the last couple of years have not done well.

As I mentioned above, the flowers have done really well.  Back in June, my Dad remembered he had a bag of glad bulbs in his garage he'd forgotten to plant--TWO YEARS AGO.  A very BIG bag of glad bulbs.  We picked through them and I planted at least 60-70 of them.   Not many came up, but the ones that did are magnificent.  Yesterday I picked a red one (which I neglected to photograph) that is scarlet red with white in the center.

Here's a longer shot of the garden at the end of the pool.

And how does your garden grow?

PET PEEVE THURSDAY--Not Doing Stuff

Today's Guest Blogger is Janet Koch--who will be published next year under the name Laura Alden

What bugs me most these days is…me. Why don’t I do the things that I  want to do? Why do I think about sitting down to play the piano, but then pick up a book instead? Why do I keep glaring at the small gouges in the wall instead of, you know, fixing them? Why do I look at the bicycle hanging up in the garage, then walk away?

In another category, why don’t my husband and I make an effort to have more fun? There are zillions of things we could do that don’t cost much. At our library last month I picked up a free day pass to a
state park. It’s still sitting on the kitchen counter. Why haven’t we used it, for crying out loud? How dumb are we? More especially, since I’m the entertainment director in the house, how dumb am I?

To fix this sad tendency, I’m giving myself a late birthday present.  Tomorrow night we’re headed north and on Friday we’re taking a train ride to the Agawa Canyon. We’ve talked about doing this for years.  You know, maybe, just maybe, this is the start of Doing Things.

Choo! Choo!

And what's bugging YOU today?--------------------------------------
After 11 years and 6 1/3 unpublished manuscripts, Janet Koch (writing as Laura Alden) recently signed a three-book contract with NAL for a cozy series. The first in the series might, just might, be published in late 2010.

How many is zero?

I'd been looking forward to my library talk in Lyons, NY.  I haven't done much face-to-face promotion this summer, and I had a wonderful time last summer when I did a talk there.

Doing any kind of "event" means lots of prep time.  Assemble bookmarks, books, make sure I have my speech crib cards handy, iron clothes, curl hair, put on make-up.  Jump in car and drive to event.
Monday was hot and humid.  I mean humidity in the 90% range.  It was a miserable day, but I managed to get a LOT of writing done.  I usually average four-five pages a day.  Monday I wrote 12.

 I was ecstatic -- except . . . I wasn't sure about those last 5 pages.  Considering this was the climax of the book, they weren't all that tense or suspenseful.*  But I had to think about the library talk and psych myself up.

We decided to eat at McDonalds rather than try to pull together a dinner before the 7 p.m. "event."  (We usually don't eat supper until 7:30-8 p.m. anyway.)  So as we pull into the Mickey D's parking lot, we notice the sky is going quite dark.  As we're eating our Big Macs, the sky went really, REALLY dark.

As we walked out to the car, the first drops began to fall.  We still had 25 minutes before I was supposed to be at the library, so we sat in the parking lot for about five minutes, then decided maybe we should get to the library and wait there.

We pulled out of the lot and headed toward the library.  Before we got half a mile, the entire sky opened up and dumped millions and millions of gallons of rain on us and everything else.  We could barely see the road (which was flooded).  We could barely see the cars in front of us.  The lighting flashed so fast, it was like there was a giant strobe light above us.  We drove at about 3 miles an hour to the library where we found the parking lot flooded.

The library closes for "the dinner hour" so we sat in the lot and watched the rain, which didn't seem like it would EVER stop.  Of course, my thoughts were not positive, but I put on a smile and grabbed my umbrella when the librarian came and opened the door.  I grabbed my books and dropped ALL MY BOOKMARKS in a HUGE puddle.  (Luckily, they were in a fabric bag, and didn't get ruined.)
I walked into the library and was met by the librarian.  She was not hopeful, but told me I could hang around for five or ten minutes to see if anyone would show up.

No one did.

I was ready to stay another five or ten minutes, but the librarian was pretty sure the rain would keep her patrons away.  But at least the library bought a copy of Dead In Red, and both the Booktown paperbacks for their collection. (They'd meant to buy them before now . . . but hadn't gotten around to it.  These things happen.)

I'm definitely not the only author who has had weather foul up a talk.  It was disappointing.  But we headed home, had a drink, and I dived back into Dick Francis' STRAIGHT.  After all, what's better than sitting in a cozy chair, with a whiskey, and a good book?

* I pitched 5 of those pages and tried again yesterday.  I think I nailed it.

ODE TO A CAULIFLOWER

One of the things I love most about summer is FRESH VEGETABLES.  The yard sales have been a huge disappointment this year, so is it any wonder that sometimes the best thing I can find is a vegetable?

Last week, after wasting too much gas and not finding anything fun at the yard sales, we stopped at a farm stand and found the world's most perfect cauliflower.  Even better--it was only a dollar!

I LOVE cauliflower and I have a really easy recipe that uses only three ingredients.

Boil as much cauliflower as your family can eat.  When it's almost done, remove it from the boiling water and place in an oven proof dish.  Sprinkle (or dump on) it with your favorite cheese.  (I've used Parmesan, cheddar and mozzarella), and then sprinkle (or dump on) seasoned (or unseasoned--depending on your preference) breadcrumbs.  Bake at 360 until the cheese melts and the breadcrumbs are golden brown (10-15 minutes).

Yum!

TEA PARTY?

There's nothing more soothing than a cup of tea.  At least to me.  I make tea first thing in the morning.  I'm not really awake until I have at least one cup inside me.  There's nothing better with a cookie, slice of cake, or piece of chocolate than a wonderful cup of tea.

And I'm running out of tea.

Not a problem--run to the store, right?

Uh, no.  You see, I drink Typhoo decaf and have been buying it from Canda (or bringing it back from England--last trip was in 2001) for years.  My aunt gave me two boxes for Christmas and boy was I happy to get them.  My brother used to make many trips to Canada, but not so much lately.

A week ago, I opened my last box and now I'm starting to get nervous.  I cannot be without my tea.
I don't see making it to Canada any time soon (even though it's only about 80 miles away).  I do have a passport, so it's not that I can't go to Canada (hey, that's not the problem -- it's getting back into THIS country that's the problem.  And when did Homeland Security start training immigration officers to act like storm troopers?)  So my only option is going to be the Internet.

The cost of tea online isn't the problem.  It's the cost of shipping that irks me.  Why is it that companies advertise decent prices for products, and then crank up the shipping to an indecent level?  I mean, people sell used copies of my first book on Amazon for a penny--and then charge $3.99 for shipping.  I don't mind a reasonable profit, but reasonable seems to be an unreasonable expectation.

But, I am a slave to my tea addiction and I will pay through the nose to get it.

I just don't have to like it.

PET PEEVE THURSDAY -- INSOMNIA

I don't sleep well.  I wake up anywhere from two to four times a night.  Sometimes I only wake up once a night--and never get back to sleep.  On those nights, I toss and turn, I read, I get up and check my email . . . and sometimes I head to the kitchen for a nice hot mug of Ovaltine.  (Sometimes that does the trick--sometimes it doesn't.)

I hate those nights.  Thoughts circulate through my head over and over again.  I'll think about stupid (usually negative) stuff that happened when I was a child, at my first job, at parties--stuff I haven't thought about in YEARS.

This isn't something recent.  I've been like this all my life and I'm sick of it.  Anybody got any tried and true home remedies?

And what's bugging YOU today?

DISTRACTED

I've got a LOT on my mind.  So much, sometimes I think my brain is going to explode.

First off, the deadline to submit my next book is only FIVE WEEKS AWAY.  Actually, it's in pretty good shape, but pretty good is not good enough.  So I've got to really buckle down and polish, polish, polish.

Along with submitting the book, I have a synopsis to write for the fifth Booktown Mystery.  I think it's due 10 days before the 4th book is due.  But I lost my calendar, so now I have to dig up my contract and figure out where the clause is that tells me exactly what is due when.

I've got 5,000 bookmarks hanging around the office, waiting to be signed and mailed to booksellers across the US and Canada.  Do you know how long it takes to sign 5,000 bookmarks?  FOREVER!!!  But somehow it's got to be done.  Right now, I've got about 200 of them bundled in stacks of 25.  I've signed about 100 of them.  That means there's only 4,900 more to do.  Can you say WRITERS CRAMP?

I've got to nag Mr. L to: A) design postcards for Bookplate Special.  B) design a new cover for a short story I'm giving away at my "launch" for Bookplate Special.  (They'll only be available at my Rochester signings.)  Believe me, nagging is WORK!

My new website is about to go live.  I haven't even seen the whole thing yet, but it will probably be uploaded in the next few days.  When it is, I'll let you know.  BTW, I HAVE seen the front page, and I love it.  I'm very happy with what I've seen, and I recommend Glass Slipper Web Design.

I'm working on the next issue of my newsletter that will probably go out sometime next week.  In it, I'll announce the contest for three copies of the bound galley of Bookplate Special.  If you haven't signed up for my newsletter, please fill out the form on the left hand column of this blog.

In the middle of all this, we've had a family crisis, which I've been dealing with the best I can.  The "crisis" part is over, but the aftermath is still a part of my daily life and cuts into just about everything I do, which includes this blog.  (Hence, the sporadic posts.)  Hopefully, I'll find a way to better organize my time in the coming weeks and will get back into some kind of routine.  My eternal gratitude goes to everyone who's sent prayers and well wishes.  You guys are the best!

CREEPING UP TO PUBLICATION

It takes a really L-O-N-G time to see a book published.  When you have a multiple-book contract (in my case, three at a time), you're always somewhere in the process.  Finish one book, hand it in, start another.  Then while you're finishing up book 2, you get the copy edit or galley proofs for #1.  #1 is finally published about the time you're starting book #3.  And on it goes.
Right now I'm inching up to publication of my third Booktown Mystery, BOOKPLATE special.  I handed it in (well, actually before) February 1, 2009.  I took a month off, and then started the current book, Chapter & Hearse.  A while back, I got the copy edit for Bookplate Special--handed that in, and a few weeks later, got the galley proofs.
The other day, I got the bound galley proof, which is a trade-sized version of the book.  (The text, however, is still mass market paperback size.  Suffice to say it's because Print On Demand presses are used in the galley process--it's not cost-effective to use a paperback press for a small run, and bound galleys are usually under 2,000 copies.  In this case, the press run for bound galley was probably under 200 (and possibly under 100).)
I was spoiled with the bound galley for Murder Is Binding.  They decided to do the actual cover on it.  It was gorgeous--and actually a little different than the final version of the book.  I got five copies.  I never got to see the bound galley for Bookplate Special, nor did I get a cover flat.  (Bummer.)  So I was especially surprised and delighted to get nine bound galleys for Bookplate Special--although it had a plain salmon-colored cover.  But I did get two cover flats, and one of them is going to be framed.
What I like best about the cover flat--besides the fantastic cover (it's my favorite so far), is the marketing information on the back.  It gave me a piece of information my editor hadn't given me.  Under Marketing Information, it says:  Print Advertising in mystery publications.
Whoa-ho-ho!  They're going to spend money on ADVERTISING the book.  Yee-ha!  Of course, who knows if that'll actually work, but I'm very happy to hear about that.
So, what's going to happen with those nine galley proofs?
Well, one of them is MINE!  (Okay, I got mayonnaise on the cover and ruined it.  Yup, that's my copy.)  The other eight?  I have five earmarked for reviewers.  I'll probably do a contest to give them away before the book is available for sale.  (It's on sale as of November 3rd, but you can preorder online or at your favorite chain or Indie bookstore.)  Of course, these galleys are rife with typos.  Especially the name of Tricia's store.  For some reason, the copy editor deleted a key word, so through the first third of the book Tricia owns Haven't Got Clue bookstore (instead of Haven't Got A Clue bookstore).
Okay, where can you find out about the contest for a bound copy?  Only from my newsletter.  How do you get my newsletter?  You sign up with the box right here on my blog (Scroll down to that box to the right), or you go to my web site's contest page.  (My next newsletter will be out in early August.)
If you haven't already signed up for my newsletter . . . what are you waiting for?