A craft fair and a book club...and me, basking in the glow.

Good morning!

It's been far too long since I've greeted you, but November wound up being wildly busy and then I got sick and then I traveled to research my next book.

But I'm here now and I have to share with you a highlight in my writing career.  See, I've never been one to do things in a normal way.  I decided at 13 I was going to be a world famous novelist.  Back in in a time when most kids wanted to be in a rock band or a professional Pac-Man player, I was sitting at my manual typewriter (Yep. no computers back then.  No spell check.  No delete button. Just a manual typewriter, a ream of paper, and a bucket of white-out.) tapping out what would eventually become my second novel, Lies in Chance. (Available in print or kindle on Amazon or for other e-reading formats at Smashwords.com)  I don't know about world famous, but since that beautiful day in 2010

when my first novel, Dream in Color, (also available in print and kindle format or for any e-reader platform at Smashwords.com) was published by the Wild Rose Press, I've managed to put out four romance novels, three novellas, two creative nonfiction humor books (under my pen name Sarah Jayne Brewester), and now, my newest, an inspirational cozy mystery, Missing in Manitowoc. (And you know where you can find it!)  

That brings my total publications to ten since 2010.  And what's in store for 2016?  At least one more Nora Hill Mystery (Superhero in Superior) and I may, I MAY start work on another Rock Harbor novel...we'll see.

The point I'm making is that in the last five or so years I've been busy doing what I always thought I'd do.  I don't know how world famous I've become, my fantasy of book signings around the world hasn't exactly happened, but I'm finding none of that matters. My stories are in print, people are reading them and the people who are reading them are enjoying them. For an author who does everything for her book, including cover art, that's a big thing to know.  

What it comes to marketing my work, however, I've found I'm taking a bit of a different road.  This past summer my mother and I worked Farmer's Markets with some success.  And this winter, a couple weeks ago, I had a booth at a craft fair. Most fellow writers and authors, when I tell them I'm doing a marker or craft fair, look at me with some disdain, as if this is the wrong way to go.  Well, when you're a self published author and you're doing your own promotion, there is no wrong way to go if where you're going is to a place where people are.  I may not have made a profit this summer, but I got my name out there and not just to people in my community, but to people all over the place.  My books are now in the suitcases and purses of people all over the US.  Isn't that what we writers want, is for our stories to be in the world?  (If you're doing it for the money and the awards, you may want to considered a job in another line of work. Sure, we all want to be J.K. Rowling or Stephen King, for the money, or some great literary person who wins the National Book Award every year, but honestly, a writer is a storyteller and we're poor story tellers if we aren't willing to share our stories with everyone in every way.)

So a couple weeks ago I was working a craft fair because they let

me have a table.  And it was the first time "Missing in Manitowoc"  was available for purchase.  I was excited. There's nothing like talking about your books to someone and there's really nothing like talking about a new book.  The first woman who came to our table listened to me talk about Nora Hill and the book and tell her everything I could about why she should buy and read this book.  She was quite excited and she told me she was the head of her church's book club. She then sent over four other members of the club to purchase "Missing" and, at the end of the day, she told me she'd be contacting me to speak at their club in September.  Now, I know September is a long time away, but I am stoked. I am jazzed, I am beyond the moon excited about this new opportunity.  I've never spoken to a book club before, and I would love to do so.  Thus, taking an unconventional route to marketing brought me to a big gold star most authors recognize as a good thing:  Book clubs, big or small, can help to make a book. Even the most skeptical of my fellow author friends had to admit, this was a big positive.

Truly, a high in my career in terms of marketing.

Anyway, now is the time of year when people go out and buy gifts for each other. No matter what you are celebrating this holiday season, chances are you have a long shopping list and you are clueless about where to start. Let me help you:  Books.  Especially books by local authors.  Especially books by authors who are willing to meet you at a coffee shop and autograph books for everyone on your gift list.  

I won't be doing any more shows this year, but I have a website which will take you where you need to go for book purchases.  And also, yes, if you contact me I would be thrilled to meet you someplace and autograph your gifts. (Provided you want to meet someplace in SE Wisconsin.)  Also, if you want to bypass the website just type my name into the search on Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and pretty much any other place that sells books. You'll find me.

Oh and yes, if you are in a book club, contact me.  I'd love to speak to your group!

One more time:  Books make great gifts!  

Happy Holidays all!  Let's be safe this season, and let's make 2016 joyful and bright!

Why books make excellent gifts all year 'round.

Good morning!

When I was six I wrote my first book.  It was called "The Civil War."  It was four pages long, I illustrated it, and I wanted to charge five cents for it.  I figured if it was a good price point for Lucy on "Peanuts," it was a good price point for me.  I planned to write a monthly historical magazine called "Historical Times."  

When I was seven I started reading the "Little House" series and when I found out 1) Laura Ingalls Wilder was born in 1867 and I was born in 1967 and that meant something and 2)  Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote her books on lined notepads, just like I wrote my "Civil War" well I figured it was in

the stars.  I was going to be a writer.  Or a poet, since I really liked writing poems, so long as they rhymed.  (Hey, I was seven.)

In grade school I read Margaret Mitchell, Edgar Allan Poe, the Brontes, and Judy Blume and I realized that perfectly lovely people could write perfectly awesome stories about the dark side of humanity.  (Okay, Poe might NOT have been considered "lovely."  That dude was messed up!)

When I was twelve one of my short stories was published in the local...very local...newspaper.  I'd entered a writing contest sponsored by the local 4-H communities.  I was the only one who wrote a fiction story...something about summer camp, snotty girls, and horses.  

In eighth grade I developed a deep love for two newspaper columns:  Erma Bombeck and Ann Landers.  Erma is, even now, my hero because she took every day things and made them funny.  (My blog It Can Only Happen to Sarah! is my way of honoring her memory and the impression she made on my life.)  Ann Landers, with her advice column, showed me that people screw up, break hearts, do stupid things to each other and sometimes common sense and tough love is all that will fix it.

When I was thirteen I started writing my first novel.  This novel, these characters, would live with me
for the next thirty years and would eventually become "Lies in Chance."  But in my high school years, Bryan, Shara, Drew, Molly, they were my very best friends, and Rock Harbor was the place I lived because my real life was...less satisfying.  In my adult years, before I finally published the book, Those same people brought me through pregnancy, birth, debt, job changes, and depression.  Even now I return to Rock Harbor  (ala "A Hero's Spark" most recently) and visit my friends.

When I was twenty-one, inspired by a college course in children's literature, I took a correspondence course in writing children's fiction.  I got an A.  I wrote a murder mystery set in Upper Michigan that I'm still proud of.

What I'm saying is that books and writing have been a part of my life all of my life.  Books can take anyone to places they've never been and may never see.  I've never been to France, and certainly not during the Revolutionary period.  But I've read (yes, I've read the book) "Les Miserables," so a part of my brain has been there.  Iv'e never lived on a plantation in the Deep South in the days before the Civil War.  But I've read "Gone with the Wind" probably a dozen times, and I'm rereading it now.  

Books can be your best friends because books can show you that there are others out there just like you.  Judy Blume's books, escpecially, "Are you there God? It's me, Margaret." got me through one of the biggest life events a girl can go through.  And "Blubber," a book I read many times long after grade school, reminded me that bullying was evil.  (And gave me hope during the years when I was bullied.)

Cheaper than a plane ticket, more readily available than a time machine, books are never a bad thing to have.  My house would probably be six inches taller if it weren't for the shelves and shelves of books.  And now, with the explosion of self publishing and e-books, there are so many more stories, stories that would never have been available when I was growing up because the only books anyone read back then were books the publishing houses wanted us to read.  This is a golden age for reading.  There is, truly, a book for everyone out there.

Right now we are in the frenzy of the gift giving season and I could add my voice to the throng and say, hey, I have six books and a novella out there for your ready pleasure and if you want to check them out...CLICK HERE for Amazon and print...or click HERE for the Nook...or click HERE if you read your book on some other device, like Apple!  And look, there I did.  But books make a great gift any time.  There is never a bad time to give someone a book.

Want to give the gift of romance?  Give them a romantic book like

anything by Jane Austen or Adriana Trigiani's "Valentina" books.  Of course, you can also check out newer authors like Stacey Joy Netzel or Linda Schmalz or Kelly Moran or..me!

Want a thriller?  Stephen King anyone?  J.A. Konrath, who is another personal hero, 


Need to go to another world where magic and mythical characters rule?  J.K. Rowlings, Tolkien, and yes, Stephanie Meyers.

Just want a homey book you can curl up with and never put down?  Billie Letts, and Jon Hassler should fit the bill.

So, after all the holiday parties are over, after all the presents are wrapped and unwrapped, after it's all over and we're in the doldrums of winter...pick up a book or a book reading device and give yourself or someone else the gift of magic, beauty, romance, adventure, travel, history, action, mystery, thrills, and new best friends.  Give the gift of a book.

Sneak peak Saturday! A Hero's Spark

Good morning!  

I know I've been away a while...I'm working feverishly during this NANOWRIMO season to finish my newest novel, "Missing in Manitowoc."  HOWEVER, I thought I'd check in and just remind you all that I also have several other books you can read while you're waiting for that.  The newest one is "A Hero's Spark" which I published this spring.  Here's a tidbit of that!  Enjoy!

For more information about my books and my writing, check out my website: CLICK HERE!

COLLIER

What woke him, Collier didn’t know, but even in the haze of deep sleep, he knew he wasn’t alone in the loft. Someone latched the door quietly and stepped closer to the bed before turning on the overhead light.

            “Who’s there?” he called out as the light flashed on, momentarily blinding him. A woman’s scream pierced through the shock of light and he squinted in her general direction. He recognized the black hair immediately. Surprise mingled with confusion.“What are you doing here?”

            “I could ask you the same thing.” She held her bulky shoulder bag in front of her like a shield. “Who are you?”

            Collier shifted to sit up. She froze. “Don’t move. I’ve got mace in here.”

            “Calm down. I’m not going to move, since I’m pretty much naked here.” Collier grinned. “But you and I both know you don’t have mace.”

            The angry light in her eyes quavered, giving way to uncertainty. “How would you know what I have in my bag?”

            “Well,” he kept his voice calm, sensing she was more afraid than dangerous, “because if you had mace in there, you would have started spraying it the minute you realized there was a man in the room. That’s what I hear from most women, anyway.”

            She blinked away the uncertainty, her face settled into a mask of defensiveness. “Oh, and you know most women, do you?”

            “No, Miss, I don’t. But I’m pretty sure most women wouldn’t ask any questions before mentioning they have mace. So relax, put the bag down and tell me what you’re doing here.”

            “I’ve stayed here before.  I’ve worked with Shara.”

            “You’re trying to be mysterious. Why do I feel like you’re lying to me?”

            “Okay, well, I’ve lived here almost my whole life, and you’re a stranger. That’s enough mystery for me to call the cops. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

            “My uncle said I could stay here and Molly Hunter brought me here.”

            She seemed less likely to want to kill him, but her countenance remained stony. “Who’s your uncle?”

            “Archibald James.”

            “The lawyer?”

            “You know him?”

            “Everyone knows about Archibald James.” She relaxed. “Okay, maybe you’re not a mass rapist.” She sat in the rocker. “But still, you can’t stay here.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because, I’m staying here.”

Collier chuckled. “I was here first. And, I’m not wearing pants.”

            “I’ll close my eyes. Get dressed, and get out.” Her tone was clipped, cold. Collier again sensed she was covering fear.

            “Why should I get out? I got here first. I was sound asleep, and you woke me up.” He gave her a small smile, hoping to soften the deep furrows in her brow.

            She shrugged. “Not my problem. You can’t stay here.”

            “It is your problem. I’m not leaving.” He grinned. “We could both stay here. It’s a big enough bed.” He patted the spot next to him.

            She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course that’s what you want.” Her eyes flashed hot and angry.

            “It’s not what I want, Ma’am. I want to go to sleep. But if you have other ideas, well, I am from the South. We believe in accommodating women whenever we can.”

            She stared at him, and Collier doubted his humor was warming her attitude. Clearly, some sort of battle waged behind her emerald eyes.

Her face slacked into exhaustion. “I need to stay here.”

            Collier’s curiosity made him push the point further. “Well, I’m from out of town and have no place else to go. From what I hear, Miranda Pierce, you live in Rock Harbor which means you do have someplace else to go.”

            “Don’t call me that.”

            “Isn’t it your name?”

“Call me Mira.” A shadow crossed her face. “I’m not going to that house tonight. You can’t make me.” her voice held the echoes of a willful child. “And how do you know my name…oh, wait…”

            “Molly Hunter.”

            Mira nodded. “She knows everyone and everything in this town. Steer clear of her if you want to keep anything private.”

            “She didn’t strike me as a person who spread gossip.”

            “She doesn’t. She just knows everything. The potential is always there.”

            An interesting read on the lovely Miss Molly. “So the two of you aren’t grand friends then?”

            She leaned back in the rocker. “I try not to make attachments. It’s easier to leave if there aren’t any attachments.”

            “Sounds like someone who wants to run away.”

            “I’ve always wanted to run away. I feel like I’m running away from something every day of my life.”

            Collier wanted to be annoyed by her cryptic statement, but watching her face, he sensed it was probably the one completely truthful thing she’d said. Collier tried to assess her age. “You’re what, thirty? You’re old enough to go out on your own. What’s stopping you?”

            “I’m twenty-eight, thank you.”

            “Oh, that’s a huge difference.” Collier nearly laughed aloud at the wounded expression on Mira’s face.

            “I can’t leave because it’s complicated. But I can’t go home tonight.”

            The glimmer of true fear returned in her eyes. Collier relented. “Fine. Just go…go in the bathroom for a minute, let me get my crap together and I’ll go sleep on the hay downstairs.”

            “You want a blanket or something?”

            Her friendly tone annoyed him. “What, now that you’ve won the bed, you’re worried about me?”

            The softness melted from her face and her jaw line hardened. “Not really. I couldn’t care less about you having a blanket, so long as you’re not in here.”

            “Suits me fine. I’d rather sleep with horses than up here with you. Less shit to deal with.”

            “Oh, very nice. They teach you that language in the South where men are supposed to be so mannerly?” She glared at him as she stomped into the small bathroom and slammed the door.

            “No!” Collier yelled as he pulled on his jeans. “I learned manners just fine, because where I come from the women aren’t complete bitches!” He stuffed a few things into his duffle bag and slammed the door behind him, startling the horses in the stalls below.

            There was a blanket hung from a hook near a stack of hay bales. Collier spread the blanket over the bales and stretched out on the hay, thankful his years on the road in the Renaissance Faire circuit had toughened him. Staring at the ceiling, he watched the light that glowed from between small cracks in the loft floor. When the light switched off, he closed his eyes. Still, she is pretty.

            Pretty bitchy.

MIRA

           

            Mira waited for Collier to settle downstairs. Within a few minutes, everything was still and quiet. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her boots, letting them drop to the wooden floor with a loud thud. Collier’s muttered curse made her smile. She wasn’t sure why annoying him gave her pleasure.

            She stretched out on the bed, still warm with his body heat. She pushed her face into the pillow and inhaled his scent. It wasn’t unpleasant.

            Closing her eyes, Mira saw him again, sitting in the bed, shirtless, the sheet and blanket pooled at his waist.

            Also not unpleasant.

            She shook her head. Now is not the time to be thinking about a guy. No matter how good he might smell.

            She picked up her boot and tossed it in the air, giving it more velocity so that when it hit the wooden floor it sounded like a thunder clap. The sound of the horses below whinnying and rustling in their stalls didn’t cover Collier’s curses, this time spoken at volume she knew was meant to reach her ears.

            Mira smiled, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

Remember kids, you can purchase A Hero's Spark and any of my other books in print or Kindle form by clicking HERE!  If you're a Nook user you can get my books by clicking HERE!  And if you get your reading kicks on any other type of device, you can get my books by clicking HERE!