Monthly Archives: August 2013

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The New Project – Backstage Work


I’ve been looking at my short stories, thinking there are many more that I could publish, easily if I had an ebook template for them in Scrivener.

I think it’s time to create it.

I’m going to ‘go hermit’ for another week. I need to get some more work done on Dad’s place as well as getting Part #3 of The Emissary finished. (Part #2 will go to the copy editor as soon as the chickens earn enough money to pay her. They need to get to it!)

Scrivener is perfect for this, because I can create modules with my front matter and back matter in them. Each story is a sub-file. Then I can simply compile the file and upload them to the relevant e-book vendor.

Once it’s set up, that is.

If you are curious about Scrivener – this is the home page.

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Go Take a Peek!


Joleene has a new website! Come take a look!

http://joleenenaylor.com/

Amaranthine by Joleene Naylor

Today is the official beta launch of the new website at http://JoleeneNaylor.com! I know, I have chills.

It is a complete redesign that breaks the photos and book covers off into their own sites (and soon their own domains. The cover art has it’s own, but photos will need moved later). The meet the characters gallery is now live on the book site, as is a freebie page with downloads for wallpaper and print yourself book markers, as well as a printable book list (Thanks, Sharon!) and a blog RSS feed. The twitter feed is still throwing some issues so for the sake of beta testing it has a “coming soon” announcement instead of a list of tweets.  There are also links to all my interviews and guest posts, as well as book reviews , so if you’ve posted a book review (on a blog or website) that I…

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The Emissary – Deleted Scene


If you know me from authonomy, then you know that I’m a POV (Point of View) Nazi. I don’t allow myself to headhop – or add a POV character that will only have one scene, or maybe two at most.

So I’ve got some scenes I deleted because they don’t fit.

This is one of them:

The Emissary – Part III

Liz walked through the gate between the sections. She almost locked the gate behind her, but remembered that Candy was still with the travelers.
Candy would be sure to lock it behind her.
She had to tell Rob and the other men about the alliance with the clans. They had to agree. They would starve otherwise.
Erica stirred the soup pot. Rabbit skin and guts lay in a bucket on the ground next to her. Candy’s daughter Missy cried as she seared the meat in a frying pan.
“I boiled the beans first, now I’m cooking them in fresh water.” Erica looked at Missy with compassion. “She did it herself, poor baby. She’s so brave.”
They’d been living on the razor’s edge of starvation for so long that a couple of pounds of beans was a treasure. There were three quart jars of beans on the picnic table, next to a bunch of spring onions.
“Save some to plant,” Liz suggested. “We can have our own beans in the fall.” They’d raked gravel, made beds, used rabbit manure and leaves to make mulch. The plants were sprouting, but had only produced greens. Salads didn’t fill the bellies of hungry children, or adults, but salads kept them alive.
The bunnies thrived on a diet of weeds. The doe just produced her second litter of six. The meat searing was the largest of the first litter. There were only five bunnies left.
Liz mentally counted her supplies. Five rabbits, three pounds of beans, twenty cans of vegetables and five of soup, that was it. She longed for bread, thick, crusty French bread smothered in butter.
She found her husband in the far corner of the garden, where he was least likely to be overheard, talking to Orlando, Bryan and Chris. It was even worse than she feared – they were plotting to kill the travelers.
“One horse will feed us for a month,” Chris said. “We can keep them alive until we need the meat.”
“You can’t!” Liz trotted up to them. “You can’t – they’ll help us.”
“Their supplies will feed everyone.”
“No – don’t! Listen to me!” Liz grabbed Rob and made him look at her. “They want an alliance.”
“What?”
“Don’t be a fool.” Chris scoffed. “We don’t have shit they need.”
“These are clans! We don’t know how many of them there are.” Liz tried another tack. “If we kill them, the others will attack us.”
“Clans, clams – it’s all bullshit.” Bryan rolled his eyes. “They’re nobody and nothing without their horses.”
“Listen to me – please?”
“Okay, guys give her a chance to speak.” Rob hushed the other men.
“Beth is an emissary from the McLeod’s to the Davidson’s Clan. She said they’d give us beans and rice if we agree to let them stay here again.”
“Come here? Why?” Bryan gave her disgusted look.
“They’ll help us! Please, Rob, think of our boys!” Liz could see that Rob had already made up his mind. She was going to have to warn the travelers – tell them to get away.
“Nobody said a word to me about it,” Rob sounded petulant.
“I just spoke to Beth not five minutes ago. She wants an alliance.”
“What is this, ‘Survivor’ in the Zombie Apocalypse?” Chris sneered.
“Rob, please!” Liz forced him to make eye contact again. “Think about more than tomorrow, think about the rest of this year. Think about next year.”
They all looked at her blankly – making the transition was difficult for all of them. Just as difficult as it had been for her.
“This place is safer than any place we’ve been in three years. We can make it here. We just need some help – they’ll help us if we give them a safe place to stay. Look around – we’ve got more junk than we know what to do with. We can trade some of that for food, seeds and medicine.” Her voice cracked. “We can stop living from hand to mouth and start over.”
“Start what over?” Orlando asked.
“Civilization,” Liz said, near tears with the force of her feelings. Just the thought of civilization, of bread and whole clothing, was enough to make her cry. “We can’t do it alone. But with an alliance, with the two clans, we have a chance.”
“It sounds good,” Rob said in his ‘keep the peace’ voice. “But one of those horses will feed us for weeks, and give us leather for shoes. They’ve got seven horses, more food than we’ve seen in months.”
“At least talk to Beth.”
“Honey, we’ve got kids to feed.”
Liz looked at her husband for a moment. He’d made up his mind. She looked Orlando, Bryan and Chris, thugs who were always pushing at Rob. He’d have to do this just to save face. The other wouldn’t let him change his mind.
Candy had it right. Men had destroyed the old world, now it was up to women to make it right. She spun on her heel, her keys jangled with each step.
When she got to the gate, she locked it behind her. She had the only key.
They could stay in the garden until they saw reason.
Until they saw things her way.

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Book Review – ‘Dating a Cougar’


Dating A Cougar (Never Too Late #1)Dating A Cougar by Donna McDonald
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Interesting plot for a light romance. Wealthy older woman meets wounded warrior – he’s attracted and the chase begins.

I look for wounded warrior romances. They are always interesting because there are so many ways to handle the trope.

These characters ARE interesting, the plot is a bit thin in places, but the dialog really bugged me. I had to dock it a star for stilted dialog. I see that other reviewers already pointed out some other problems.

I saw some real potential, so I think McDonald will do better with future books.

View all my reviews

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Settled In At Home


I’m back, been back for a few days. The amount of fatigue I feel is disconcerting.

I think it’s the humidity, there wasn’t much up north. Also life has been non-stop since I got back. Friday I went to the Vine Grove Farmer’s Market, sold a couple of books. Yesterday we went to Second Saturday and sold a couple of books.

The folks at Create Space are working on the new paperback. I should get the proof and hopefully the book will go back on sale in a few days.

It was mentioned that I ‘slammed’ Ashtabula in the book, by a resident. My Male Lead certainly doesn’t like what he sees, in 2006. But for the time it was pretty accurate, the roads were in horrible shape. The Harbor looked lovely but the rest was a mess.

I was pleased to see just how much better the City looked this year compared to what I saw in 2006. (I give credit to a President who isn’t as stingy with Federal money for roads and such, but who am I?)

In addition, the Main Street that had weeds growing 3 feet high down the center line in 2001, has been torn out for resurfacing. The first step in rebuilding an economic area is to fix the roads. (Or at least cut down the weeds.) I also need to mention the local government has changed hands, with a more progressive element now running things. The old Hotel Cantagallo was torn down.

I know from my youth, watching my parents work with the Harbor Historical Society as well as the Harbor Merchants Association, that it takes a tremendous amount of time and money to rebuild an area that has suffered decades of neglect. Bridge Street started to rebuild in the 1970’s when my mother and some like-minded friends started to kick around ideas for saving the area. Before that it was West 5th Street or ‘Skid Row’ and signs at the Yatch Clubs warned “Don’t go on West 5th Street after dark.”

By the time I left Ashtabula, 1992, there were a few people dedicated to rebuilding the worst of the worst (John Humphrey and the old Fire Station for instance.) While the buildings that had been occupied since the 1980’s were in good shape, employing dozens of people, there were still boarded up buildings. No longer. Everything was occupied or gone.

Building prices still aren’t consistant with national historic buildings – they may never command what has been poured into them over the years.

But the Harbor is vibrant today, more vibrant, foodie and trendy than ever. Let’s hope this vibrancy can work it’s way uptown in the years ahead.

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Author Adventures – Heading Home


Boy am I glad to head home today!

A quick update for the curious:

My credit card was turned off as soon as I crossed the state line. EEEEEEKKKKKK!!!

The Mariner Memorial Bash wasn’t as good as I had hoped. Although I met some really great people and had a good time…I didn’t sell a single book there.

HOWEVER — The great thing was that when J. Drew Brumbaugh and his wife took me to the Bascule Bridge Grill, I saw a sign for a Farmers Market for Sunday. I got there and they graciously allowed me to set up an instant book signing. I was able to make gas money to get home.

Then it was back to the Ramada for the afternoon. Got to talk to Chuck Altonen – former owner of the Harbor Journal – who gave me column space as the writer of Kat Tracks.

Monday I was off to the races – 2100 words for The Emissary series, a trip to Topky Library, Ashtabula Public Library and Kingsville Library to donate books. I also stopped at Cahill House on Walnut Bld where I wrote a bit chunk of ‘Swallow the Moon’.

Now I’ve got to pack up and get home. Might not be until midnight, but I’m glad to be going back.

Although…I think I could acutally like being a book-selling gypsy up here. The book has been accepted and is in great demand. People LOVE the fact it takes place in Ashtabula. If word spreads, the trip might not be just a tax write-off. It might acutally help my sales.

Here’s hoping, because I’m running on a wing and a prayer, just like the old days when I was scrambling for enough cash to pay my rent, so I never got a good meal except at Mom & Dad’s on Sunday.

Yes, this trip brought back a lot of old memories…good ones.

If things go in my favor, I might be back for the Covered Bridge Festival in October. But maybe not.

Stay tuned!