Tuesday, December 13, 2011


     I've always wanted to travel.  I've been across the United States from coast to coast, but never in another country.  My books now have readers in over 54 countries as does this website.  I wish there was a way to slip in between the pages and pop out to go sightseeing while my readers are engrossed with the plots. 
     I owe a great deal of my foreign success to my good friend Alex Kava.  We joined our two sleuths together to solve a crime in the short story, A BREATH OF HOT AIR.  This story appeared in her foreign books as a supplemental story at the end.  It was fun when she handed me a Polish copy of the book, DAMAGED, and told me to read aloud our story at the end.  The only thing I recognized was my sleuth's name, Detective Glen Karst.  
     This Christmas we'll be celebrating with Alex Kava.  How can I repay her for making my books so successful?  E-book sales have skyrocketed this holiday season.  
     Did I ever tell the story of exchanging gifts with Alex?  Let's go back in time two years ago this week.  We received a package from her and the deal was no gift exchange.  I scolded her before I opened the package.  Inside, remember we're mystery and suspense writers, there was a carefully wrapped butcher knife with blood stains and an evidence tag hanging from the handle.  This now has a prominent spot, mounted on the wall in my kitchen.  My walls are red so it matches the decor'.  
     Next some hot and spicy salsa for my husband.  That seemed normal.  Then a nice warm scarf to keep the chill from Nebraska winters away.  But this was not just any scarf, it is bright yellow with black letters that says, "crime scene, do not cross".  I wear it every time I go out in the winter and believe me it causes giggles and comments.  
    But wait it gets better.  I raise westies and she has westies including one that I raised.  He loves to tear apart his doggie toys and for some twisted writer's reasons she gives him toys shaped like humans---the mailman, a coach, a veterinarian....you get the picture.  So at the bottom of the box of wonderful and unusual Christmas gifts we found body parts.  Yep, from one twisted writer to another---body parts from those toys.  A rather large assortment of arms, legs, heads and torsos.  
     What Alex didn't know about me she later found out when we returned a box to them.  We filled tins with freshly made caramel corn.  My husband the whiz he is with Photo-shop managed to locate photos of all of her dogs from our Thanksgiving get-to-together in her Florida home.  He created a wanted poster with her dogs photos and descriptions and alias' names.  After-all they did mercilessly rip those human toys to shreds. But wait it still gets better, the best part is yet to come.
     As they reached the bottom of the box, where we found body parts they found the same toys, with bullet holes, worms crawling out of their bodies, zombie eyes and green hues to their skin.  Yep, the return of the living dead dog toys.  
     Alex had no idea I could sew and I repaired, almost to perfection, the toys.  My husband, the artist, magically turned them into zombies and we shipped them back. 
     When she opened the box immediately she wondered where we found the same toys, but they were zombies and upon closer examination  exclaimed, "I've met my match."  


Sunday, November 20, 2011


All great sleuths come out of nowhere to save the day, isn't that the way books are written?  As those of you who read my books already know, Detective Glen Karst is a real live person.  He walks, he talks, he catches bad guys, and rescues damsels in distress.

You also know that I live on an old family farm passed down for generations on my husband's side.  He's fourth generation on this farm homesteaded in the late 1800's.  I love the solitude, I love the wildlife (not the mice), and for the most part I love the weather.

Okay what I didn't love was no air-conditioning--fixed that.  No decent way to heat the old two story house--fixed that. An outdated kitchen--fixed that.  A dirt cellar basement that opened to the outside world.  The kind where you knew someone  slipped into your home through that old cellar door every night.  Well, okay maybe it was mice and spiders but you just knew they were there--fixed that.  Several years ago we raised the house from the foundation and put in a brand new lower level.  

So now with the new lower level, the new kitchen, the new heating and air-conditioning, and a huge bathroom that replaced the small closet type room that was supposed to be a bathroom, my life is good.  

Then it happened.  One night while soaking in our double bathtub, a nightly event, my husband heard a strange cracking sound.  He rushed to the basement to watch a steady, drip, drip, drip.  Our tub, our beautiful two-person soaking tub, the one we used every night, sprung a leak!!!  I rushed to the computer and searched for a tub that would be the same size.  Beads of sweat formed on my head as I failed at my search.  "No!" I cried out breaking the peaceful silence of our surrounding acres.  

Finally, persistence paid off.  I found one the same color and dimensions to replace the faulty tub.  I ordered it immediately.  Three weeks for delivery....three weeks without a tub...three weeks with only a shower.  I HATE showers, I'm a soaker.  I knew I could be strong.  I knew I could handle it.  The tub arrived one week early....hooray!!!

But wait, we didn't have all the necessary plumbing parts.  Living in the middle of nowhere means ordering parts in.  Slowly they arrived.  But wait...we had book deadlines, we had other business to attend to.  My husband, the hypnotherapist, had a rush of clients.  Each new day presented another obstacle that prevented him from installing my tub. Mind you it has now been 2 months without my tub.

Six weeks ago, my detective decided to retire from his position, and he actually bought an old, old home just a few minutes from our farm.  It needs a lot of work, but if you read my books you'll know he's a master carpenter.  We walked through the house with him and agreed it needed a ton of work, but there, in the rundown bathroom with the walls cracked and falling down, stood a white claw footed bathtub!  It was still connected and he was going to turn the water on to this old house that hadn't been lived in for some time.  

I planned to make daily trips to his home while he was back in Denver packing, tying up loose ends and preparing for his move.  I was going to steal his water and use his tub.  I knew it would take him weeks to make his home ready to live in.  We went over to check on his progress and to my dispair the first thing he did was remove the bathtub to work on his bathroom!  

"No!" I mumbled to myself, when I really wanted to scream out.  He moved in with us for the past 6 weeks while he worked on his home.  He took daily showers here, as did I regretfully.  

Then last night he called from his house after spending his first night there.  He wanted to repay our hospitality.  He invited us to dinner tonight....and he told me to bring comfortable clothes to slip into after I take a long, hot, bubble bath in his newly installed tub!!!!  Yay!!  My detective came through for me.  

All of the parts have arrived for "my" tub.  So with fingers crossed I'm hoping to be able to soak in my own tub, in my own bathroom within the week!!  

I have so much to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving week.   

Saturday, October 22, 2011


"I can't believe it," I mumbled to myself as I called Detective Karst.
"Hi there," he says.
"Glen you just won't believe it, I still can't believe it."

"Believe what?"
"I just heard from a reader and guess what he's going to be for Halloween?"
"I have no idea.  What?"
"It's not what, it's who."
"Okay, who?"
"He's going as you!  Detective Glen Karst."
Laughter...more laughter...louder laughter.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope.  Now you know you've made it big when someone chooses to dress as you for Halloween."
More laughter.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, he's sending a photo."
More laughter.
As the days progressed I had forgotten about the contact from a reader until last night when the photo arrived.  A man dressed in a black duster, and black hat, complete with badge on his hip posed in the same position as Detective Karst on the backcover of MURDER'S A CINCH.  

The man's name is Bill and he's from Malcolm, NE.  I immediately sent the photo of the impostor on to Detective Karst. 

This morning it hit me.  What if we have a Detective Karst Halloween costume contest????  Good idea?  Great for some laughs.  (I'm so grateful no one chose to dress like me!). Details at end of post...

Serves him right you know.  He's supposed to be a character in my books, but he's taken over the reading audience.  They love him.  When we tour together it's Karst who has his picture taken with the readers, it's Karst who gets asked all the fun questions, it's Karst who draws the crowds, and he's not even the one who has to create and write the stories.  He has the easy job, he has to look strong, handsome, and tough and yet be kind and gentle.  As I've learned over the years all the men want to be him and all the women want to date him. 
I created him.  Well, not the real Karst, but the character Karst even if he is modeled after the real Karst.  So did I really create him or discover him?  Will my books still sell as well if I killed him off in my Elusive Clue Series.  I've contemplated that one before.  I think he'd come back to haunt me and the books as a ghost.

I've created a monster, a character I can't get rid of.  So monsters, Halloween, it all fits.
Contest Rules:  Send a photo of yourself or someone you know dressed as Detective Karst to my publisher windcall@chase3000.com   We'll post the photos on my website (www.patriciabremmer.com)  on the Halloween Contest page and I will let the "real" Detective Karst choose the winners.  First place will receive a copy of MURDER'S A CINCH and may choose two other titles from my collection.  Second place will receive a copy of MURDER'S A CINCH and one other title of their choice.  Third place will receive a copy of MURDER'S A CINCH.  
All books will be autographed by Detective Karst and me....you know...the author, the one who writes about him.  Sheesh....

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Oh no! What have I done?

What was I thinking?  I should have given some thought to where I live before I let my mind get carried away.  Can I continue to live here or will I have to move.  Where can I hide?  Maybe I shouldn't take the complete blame for my fear and the fear I have incited in all my neighbors.  The fear that is spreading like a prairie fire to all rural communities first and then to the cities and finally around the world.  

I'm not entirely to blame you know.  I think my good friend and suspense writer, Alex Kava, should share the blame.  After all it all stemmed from her idea.  Yeah, Alex, it's all your fault....well, you didn't exactly put those words in my mind that came out on paper that started this terror, but you did make the initial suggestion that started it all.

Almost two years ago while spending Thanksgiving at Alex Kava's Florida home, she suggested we write a short story together for an anthology.  We casually discussed it.  I suggested that her sleuth Agent Maggie O'Dell meet my sleuth, the living, breathing Detective Glen Karst from my Elusive Clue Series.  

When I returned home, I realized I had never written a short story before, I had only written full length mystery/suspense novels.  How could I condense my writing to 5,000 words or fifteen pages.  I told her I would work on the project with her.  How could I tell her I didn't really think I could do it?

So, one day I sat down at my computer after tossing around a story line in my mind.  My fingers typed faster and faster as my heart rate increased.  After a couple of hours I sat back and looked at my first short story, CORNSTALKED.  

I did it.  I wrote a short story.  Not bad, I thought.  I gave it to my husband to read.  "Whoa, good stuff," he said.  "That's a keeper, it really makes you think."

I sent it to other family members and friends and the consensus was the same.  It totally freaked them out.  

Alex and I went on to write A BREATH OF HOT AIR, for the anthology and later it was released as a stand alone short story on kindle.

CORNSTALKED couldn't leave my mind.  I couldn't let it rest.  My husband suggested I expand it into a full length novel.  

"But it's a thriller," I said.  "I can't write a thriller."
"You just did," he replied.

So I set out on the task to expand it from 5,000 words to over 50,000 words.  Typically, when I write I have a general plot idea and the story unfolds before my eyes and I type what I see.  But this was different, this story had a beginning, middle, and end.  I needed to expand.  I struggled like I've never struggled before to find the right words to increase page count without jeopardizing the story or making it read like it had filler.  

I designed my book cover,  I actually took the photograph used for the front cover.  My cover designer made my vision come to life.  CORNSTALKED  was released in July, 2011.

I did it.  Along the way I expanded on the character named Bruce.  He was an abusive husband, a banker with an ego so huge it's a wonder his head didn't explode holding it in.  

The story takes three hunters into a Nebraska cornfield where they are stalked for five hours in freezing temperatures.  I write about the cold, the pain, the fear, the stalker.  He gets closer and closer and they slip away, only to find him still trailing them.  I can't give away too much of the plot here, but for years I found pleasure in the sight and sound of a cornfield in the fall.  The rustling of the leaves, the color, the uniformity of the rows.  

This year, the neighboring farmer planted a cornfield 100 feet from my home.  I need only look out my office window and there it stands.  Only now my eyes are constantly searching, my ears are keyed for the sound of gunshot.  I look into the cornfield and feel the fear my characters felt.  

As readers have purchased and read this book, they agree it might just be the best thing I've written, but will they ever go into a corn maze again?  Several readers say they can never eat beef again....or chili.  Guess you'll have to read it to find out why?

I'm making a donation to domestic abuse programs for every copy sold from my website www.patriciabremmer.com


Thursday, June 16, 2011


In this day and age of vampires and werewolves I'll bet none of you have heard of vampire moths.  Well, actually around here they're called millers and they don't draw blood but they poop orange toxic poop that can't be washed off of most things, causing nice staining--hair dye should be so long lasting.  

So what are they?  Along about May in my area, when the days begin to warm, you'll notice a moth fluttering around a light.  The next day, there are four, then the next day ten and so it goes for about two weeks.  Then the invasion is in full force.

They can slip into every crack and crevice, even those that appear impossible to pass through.  They hide during the day and come out by night, not to draw your blood but to make your life miserable.  

Open your refrigerator and you'll see one staggering across the shelf, too cold to fly.  Try stirring your scrambled eggs in the morning and have one who hasn't yet found his daytime hiding place land smack dab in the middle of your bubbling eggs.  You know that glass of water you put on your nightstand next to your bed before you go to sleep?  Forget it.  One of my neighbors swallowed one that was swimming laps in his glass.

Our housecat used to catch and eat them, but you know what happens when you've had too much of a good thing.  She won't even look at them now.   

One May, we had family visiting from the city.  They didn't know to walk through the house in total darkness during the end of May.  They didn't know what happens when you turn on the lights and leave the room.  But they found out.  We were all in the family room when we heard the scream.  We found one of the children plastered to the wall with hundreds....yes, I said hundreds of these vampire moths fluttering around the light, bouncing off the ceiling dropping to the floor and crawling up the walls.  

"Grab the vacuum," I yelled.  "Turn off every light in the house except this room."  My son and husband started herding those who had made their escape to the other parts of the house, back toward the light where we listened to the ca-thud, ca-thud sound as they were sucked into the vaccum.  

Last year when my granddaughter, Lexi, came for her month of staying with Nana and Gramps, she called out for us each time she was in the same room with one.  At first she was too frightened to even suck them up with the vacuum.  Then she grew brave enough to seek them out with a fly swatter in hand.  By the end of the two week invasion, she would grab them with her bare hands and toss them outdoors or flush them.  She became known as the Lexinator.  

 Two weeks ago they were crawling on our television screen while we watched the actors with large moths crawling over their faces, last week as the numbers were diminishing I felt one in bed with us.  This week you might see one or two still hanging around.  

But it's over, we won again this year....or did we?  How many months will it take me to find and remove all the little orange spots or have to repaint a room because they stained the paint beyond the ability to clean?  So if anyone can tell me the purpose of those vile little vampire millers please let me know.   I'm sure there has to be some way I can write them into one of my mysteries or thrillers in a deadly sort of way......hmmmm....maybe they do have a purpose.

Friday, May 13, 2011


As an author I'm always curious who buys my books.  I watch sales go up and down, I answer emails from readers who have recently discovered my books and they feed my writer's ego with tales of how much they love my books.  But slowly I noticed I was receiving emails from readers who said they could no longer walk into a Barnes and Noble and purchase my books.  They were always sold out.  That's good, right?  Not always.  I started to hear more and more that my books were out-of-print.  Impossible, I thought I would be the first to know when, and if, my books were out-of-print.  

So one day, while visiting in a city where several readers said they couldn't get my books, I walked up to the counter where the clerks are more than happy to check on books.  

"Can I help you," he asked.
"Sure, do you have any books by Patricia Bremmer in the store?"
"Let me look."
I waited patiently while he searched the database.  
"I'm sorry we're sold out."
"How many titles does she have?" I asked.
"Nine," he responded.
"Can I order them?"  I asked.
He checked.
"I'm sorry they're out of print."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
Annoyed he responded, "Yes, ma'am they're out of print."
"Any idea why?" I asked.
"I think the author died," he responded.
I was set back to say the least.  After the shock left, I felt my pulse and all seemed to be good.  My heart was thumping loudly in my chest and my breathing grew rapid, but I took all of those as signs I was still very much alive.
So, when I returned home I called the store manager.  We went through the same round of questions and answers and guess what.  He confirmed my death!!!

After rechecking my pulse.  I took in a deep breath and said, "There must be some sort of mistake."
"No, I don't think so," he replied.
"I'm sure there is," I insisted.  "You see, I am Patricia Bremmer and not only am I not dead, but my books are not out-of-print.
 Apologies flowed and I was invited to participate on a panel for mystery writers.  When I arrived they had two of my titles set up in front of me.  I asked the PR person where the rest of my titles were and she responded,  "They're out-of-print."

Arrggg....I offered to bring the books in from my trunk but was told I couldn't bring out-of-print books into the store to sell.  So after the talk, a flock of readers joined me in the parking lot and I sold books from my trunk.  

You see your strongest fans will buy your books whether you're dead or alive!!!  

Wednesday, April 27, 2011


One of my granddaughters has a birthday coming up soon.  Birthdays always cause contemplation of the birth of that person.  I remember the birth of my last child.  I was two weeks late, my husband was away for the evening attending a volleyball game, (pre-cell phones).  He left me in the capable hands of my favorite cousin, Mark.  

Mark had called before his six hour journey to our farm and asked if there was anything special I'd like to have.  I suggested a French Silk pie.  The two of us shared one piece, and then I had a second.  Part way through my second piece, I had a strong labor pain.  Mark panicked until I told him there was nothing to be concerned about, I'd been having contractions off and on for weeks.  

The pains increased.  The school where my husband attended the game was only 7 miles away and he was due home in two hours.  Mark, called the school.  With no one in the small school's office after hours, the call went unnoticed.  Mark paced.  The minutes ticked by.  More contractions.  Mark paced.  Finally, my husband returned home and Mark relaxed.  My water broke and we were off to the hospital to have our son.

Six months later, while visiting family in Omaha, my sister-in-law was due to have her baby.  Mark, brought her a French Silk pie.  Halfway through her first slice, she experienced a wave of contractions, her water broke and off to the hospital to have her son.

One of my daughters was just past her due date, so we laughed and suggested Mark's labor inducing French Silk pie.  She had not one, but three slices, and her water broke and off to the hospital to give birth to my grandson.  

Pregnant women and Mark with his French Silk pie became a family story.  Several years ago, Mark was back for another visit. My friend was at our house and she was due to have her baby.  So, Mark and my husband drove 75 miles to a Village Inn Restaurant to purchase a French Silk pie.  

My friend ate her slice of pie, Mark watched in anticipation--nothing.  We watched her eat her second piece--nothing.  My husband and I left Mark in charge while we went out to finish chores.

No sooner had we made it across the farmyard than my friend grabbed her belly and doubled over in pain.  Mark graciously helped her to the sofa then called us.  We explained babies don't happen that quickly, so we'll finish our chores and be up to the house shortly.

Mark returned to his patient, who now moaned her way through her next contraction.  "Time them," she suggested.  "Wait a minute," said Mark.  He rushed to the phone and called us again.  We once more assured him babies don't happen that quickly.  

When he returned to my friend she informed him the contractions were coming every two minutes.  
"What's that mean?" asked Mark.
"I had my last baby thirty minutes after my contractions were this close," she said. 
"Oh, man.  Let's call the hospital," he said. 
"No, I'm planning a home birth," she said.
"Okay, okay, let's call your husband."
"Can't, he's out of town."
Panicked he called us once more.  

We told him we'd be up to the house as soon as we finished chores.

He said, "Chores!  I have a pregnant woman up here and she's about to give birth!!!"
My husband responded, "In the bottom drawer you'll find a birthing kit complete with episiotomy scissors.  Just listen to what she tells you and you'll do fine.  Birthing is a natural process."
"WHAT!!!  "You'd better get up here and fast!"
My friend called out to him, "Get off the phone and help me I think its coming."
"Let me run outside and get them," he begged.
"No time," she said.
He held her hand while she moaned through the next couple contractions then he raced to the window.
"They're coming!  They're coming!  Can you hang on?"
"No!," she cried.
Mark ran to the door, opened it and yelled to us, "Hurry up, hurry up, its coming!!!"
We casually walked toward the house.  He was holding her hand, sweat beaded on his brow, his heart racing when we entered the living room.
I sat on one chair while my husband sat on another.  A confused Mark looked pleadingly from me to my husband.  "Aren't you going to do something?" he asked.
"How'd he do?" I asked.
She sat up and said, "Pretty good.  He was very attentive."
Mark, still frazzled, look at each of us, waiting for someone to step in and catch the baby, which was not really due yet for three more weeks.  
I could no longer control the giggles.  The three of us burst into hysterical laughter.  
"Oh man, this was a joke, " said Mark.
Later he sent her a trophy for best actress.  He still continues to deliver his French Silk pies, but not the babies.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

On the air with Josh Mackey.....

On Monday April 11th, I was invited to be a guest on KOGA radio's morning talk show.  I have always enjoyed being interviewed by Josh Mackey.  I feel I'm in good company with Dean Kuntz, Mary Higgins Clark, and Alex Kava.  Plus, Josh is a great interviewer.  I've been on the air and on television for interviews since the early 90's and he is by far the best.

I planned well for the interview.  What should we discuss? What answers I might have for his questions?  I tried to guess what his questions might be.  I chose my outfit two days in advance.  I know, I know, it's radio and no one will see what I'm wearing...but my husband, the photographer, is always taking publicity shots.  So I'm certain my hair would look its best and the lighting would make me look flawless on the days my clothes look the worst, so I have to keep trying to look presentable because you never know when non-photogenic me will actually have a good photo.  Of course, that morning I was having a really bad hair day.

On the way to the studio, I had a little morning tickle in my throat.  I coughed it away, or so I thought.  The coughing irritated it a bit and caused more coughing.  How could I give a good interview if I'm having a cough attack.  So I started to drink the bottle of water I brought along...didn't help.  After we stopped in front of the radio station I popped a Life Saver peppermint into my mouth.  Coughing stopped, everything was going to be just fine.

We started our interview.  The more I talked the more saliva was created by the mint.  My mouth was filling and I had to wait for a break in my speech to swallow.  I wanted to chomp down on it and chew it quickly to get rid of it.  But, then that would come across on the air.  If you listen closely to my interview, posted on my website on the media page, you can hear that my voice isn't quite right, sort of like someone using a retainer for the first day...slurp...slurp...slurp.  

I'd sip water quickly between answering questions.  Do you really know how long those peppermint candies last in your mouth?  At one point when Josh said something funny and I had to laugh, the mint started to fly out of my mouth.  I caught it and shoved it back in before it ricocheted off of the microphone. I know Josh saw that slick move.  

The interview went on, and we had a grand time.  We talked about my first middle grade book SECRET OF DRAGONFLY ISLAND making it to the kindle best seller list...woohoo!!  We talked about the second middle grade book, LEGEND OF ARTERBURN LAKE, having just been released on kindle 10 days before the interview and the sales were doing better than we expected.  We talked about my first suspense thriller, CORNSTALKED being released this month on kindle and 50% of the kindle sales going to domestic abuse programs.  We discussed the short story  A Breath of Hot Air, that Alex Kava and I co-wrote.  

We laughed, we talked, I slurped.  We laughed, we talked, I slurped.  Then the interview was finished and I removed that mint and tossed it in the trash.....wait a minute....I REMOVED the mint????  Why didn't I think to just take it out of my mouth during the entire interview?  It was too early in the morning to think straight?  There were no trashcans in sight?  I didn't want to make my fingers sticky?  I can dream up some of the most intriguing or scary plots but I couldn't think fast enough to simply remove the mint from my mouth.  You pick an answer....I'm too embarrassed.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

I'm not viral but I'm highly contagious.....

I'm so excited with the release of LEGEND OF ARTERBURN LAKE on kindle today.  The first book of the middle grade series SECRET OF DRAGONFLY ISLAND, took off and jumped into the top selling ranking in just 48 hours.   This morning I went out to join my husband while he was doing chores, told you we live in the country.  I wanted to let him know I checked sales and they were still moving quickly...woohoo.  That's when he said, "You're not viral yet, but you're definitely highly contagious.  I think that's a compliment???

I decided to help him finish chores.  While I was pouring a water bucket to top other buckets I saw something scurry past.  Mind you I don't do mice....I jumped back spilling the water all over the floor.  Turns out it was one of our puppies who darted behind me and broke the stream of light at my feet and in that split second all I had noticed was movement.  

Let me take you back to last fall when I was feeding the chickens.  I love my girls because they give me the biggest most yummy brown eggs.  If you've ever had a farm fresh egg you will never allow another store egg to cross your lips.  

Anyway, I was out in the hen house to feed them.  My husband was away.  I picked up a nearly empty bag of chicken feed to spread some out on the ground near the door to the chicken house.  Chickens love to scratch for the food.  As the grain poured out of the bag, I poured out a mouse.  I'm not quite certain who was more afraid the mouse or me.  It jumped back onto the bag for safety which meant it could run up my arm and that's where it was heading.  I screamed and started jumping around, chickens scattering everywhere, which in turn frightened the mouse even more.  It fell from the bag when I dropped it and made an attempt to run back into the chicken house, over my foot to get there.  I'm still standing there screaming, like anyone within ten miles would actually hear me other than the dogs, the ducks and the chickens which were all running around like the sky was falling.  

The mouse ricocheted off of the door and landed back at my feet where I wanted to dance, but was afraid I'd step on it.  I can't even step on a crunchy bug without freaking out.  Finally, the mouse made it back to the safety of the hen house, but how was I going to get up the nerve to collect eggs after that?  

When my husband returned he poured the bags of chicken feed into large metal trash cans so no mouse could get into the feed again.  And, I do collect eggs, but only during daylight hours, not at dawn or dusk and I make lots of noise when I'm entering to give the mouse and his or her friends adequate time to hide from the hysterical screaming woman.  

But those eggs are soooo worth it. 


Thursday, March 31, 2011

How I survived missing SURVIVOR!!!!

I have spent days editing...finished UNEXCUSED  today and it's ready to ship off to NYC.  Woohoo!!!  I'm finished.  And the cover is ready for my newest middle grade LEGEND OF ARTERBURN LAKE. 

Anyway, one of our biggest vices, love of life, or passion is SURVIVOR.  Life stands still for my husband and me when it's on.  No phone calls are accepted, no visitors, and we never leave on Wednesday evenings.  My hubby has been wanting to upgrade to HD tv for life.  So yesterday, while my eyes were glued to the screen and my butt was stuck in the chair he called Dish TV to discuss the upgrade.  He was on the phone for almost an hour pacing in and out of the office while I typed.  At one point I called out to him, "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this until SURVIVOR  is over." 

We are the most clever people in the world.  We always record SURVIVOR so we can watch it after dinner and baths are complete.  We snuggle into bed with some sort of SURVIVOR junk food and savor every episode.  Last night was no exception.  We had dinner and a bath, then slipped between the sheets and turned on the TV to our recordings and oh no...!!!  Dish network was making some changes and our recording didn't happen.  We were going to miss SURVIVOR!!!  I repeat....miss SURVIVOR!!!  My world just came to an end.  I was so angry...have any of you witnessed an angry author?  My husband has, it ain't a pretty sight.

He felt so bad that he had called on a SURVIVOR  day to make an adjustment to our television.  I had to forgive him.  I mean really, would it stand up in a divorce court?  Then my wonderful hubby found out we could watch last night's episode on my computer.  Yeah!!!  No....the service is too slow, so we'd watch two minutes, then wait for it to buffer for two minutes, then watch two minutes, then buffer for two minutes.  We got into the rhythm of it.  We were able to discuss the scenes between viewing it.  Then came the commercials.  They buffer differently and we had 10 minutes of commercials, each time they came on, but hey, just over two hours and we had watched the best episode of the season.

Husbands are wonderful creatures.  Without him I would've missed SURVIVOR.   We'll not discuss the reason  I lost it to begin with.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

I want to be a writer why?

My eyes are burning, my legs are numb and my dogs are mad at me.  I've been sitting at my desk since Monday afternoon, editing.  I love the writing but oh my the editing.  And, why am I have such difficulty with it this time?  It's not my fault.  It's Detective Karst's fault.  It's his job to read through and check my police protocol and to double check his dialog. 

For those of you who don't know.  My sleuth in my books is a real live detective.  He's been a great character and loads of fun to take on tour.  When we have a debate about plots, I always win unless it concerns the police stuff.  I mean really, does it truly matter that I didn't have probable cause to arrest the guy I arrested in my new book?  What does he mean I can't put the guy in jail even for one night.  Sheesh!  I had to take my character out of jail, find a motel room for him, and rewrite several scenes where his daughter is concerned about her dad being locked up when he's not really locked up. 

I keep telling him someday I'm going to write him in as a villian...or on the days he really gives me a bad time I remind him, I've nearly poisoned him, I've shot him twice, he's torn his arm open jumping through a glass door to save a fellow female officer, and I sent him into a burning house with his arm in a sling to save three women, so maybe one of these times he won't make it out of the book alive...but then he'd proably just come back as a ghost.  I think he's here to stay. 

We've made it through 8 books in the Elusive Clue series together and then I wrote him into my middle grade book SECRET OF DRAGONFLY ISLAND without telling him....still not sure if he's read that one!! 

Anyway,  I quit for the day.  I'm going to eat, watch SURVIVOR and crash.  Tomorrow's another day and hopefully, I can finish the edits and send the manuscript off to New York and celebrate.  I guess even if I don't get it sent off, I'm close enough for celebrating with ice cream tomorrow evening.  I deserve it, I want it, I need it.  

Monday, March 28, 2011

Here's the drill...

Literally,  I have a dentist appointment today.  I chipped a wisdom tooth.  I've won the battle with every dentist I've gone to about removing my wisdom teeth.  How can I write without wisdom?  Today, I'm seeing a new dentist, a woman dentist, someone with smaller hands!  How many of you have had bad dental experiences?  Show of hands please.  See, all of you have a story to tell.  I used to love going to the dentist, no I wasn't crazy, I just had a really, really good dentist when I was a kid growing up in Omaha, NE.

Since I moved away, almost forty years ago...ouch...that's a long time.  I've been dentist hopping.  I won't go into the gruesome, frightening details, one of you might be planning a trip soon,so no sense in filling your mind with terror.  I remember about ten years ago, after another bad experience, just out of curiosity, I checked for my old dentist in Omaha.  And, to my surprise, he was still practicing.  I made an appointment to see him.  I drove 300 miles to see him.  He was great, a little old, well, maybe a lot old, but he still had that magical touch.  I left his office beaming.  That is, until his receptionist told me, that was his last week. He was retiring.

I'm prepared this time.  I went in a month ago to meet the dentist and share with her my oddities concerning dental work.  I liked her, I think we will work well together.  See I sound optimistic and upbeat about this don't I?  Wanna know my secret?  How can I make light of my appointment in just over four hours?

It's my husband.  He's a hypnotherapist.  He hypnotizes people to help them with smoking, weight loss, fears...Did you catch that fear part?  He hypnotized me yesterday afternoon to prepare me for today's appointment.  He took me to a wonderful place, a relaxing place.  He filled my mind with calming thoughts.  I was floating on his every word.  Then he sneakily tossed in a line or two about speeding up my metabolism.  Too many chocolate chip cookies and too much sitting still to write and he has to listen to me complain I'm no longer a perfect size 5 like when he married me, twenty-two years ago.

That's great, I love all the help he can give me.  But, do you know what happens when your metabolism speeds up?  Remember, my bathroom story from yesterday?  Yep, your body functions faster and you have to keep running to the bathroom.  Now, compound that with my fear of the dentist and I'm going to need a catheter to stay in that chair today.

Four hours and four minutes to go...I'll let you know what happens.

March 28th, 12:50

I'm back.  The hypnosis worked.  I was a little apprehensive around the house this morning waiting to leave.  But he took me through walking into the dental office right up through the finish of the procedure during hypnosis.  I was nervous when we stopped in front of the office and I stepped out of the car.  But, the moment I stepped foot inside, all anxiety stopped and I couldn't believe how relaxed I felt.

Dr. Rachel was perfect.  She has a more gentle touch than my childhood dentist.  She broke the news to me that I didn't need an injection and I didn't need the drill after all.  She used a small dental tool to excavate the tooth and filled it.  No pain, actually no discomfort at all.  The worst thing that happened was I had a little water splashed on my face during the cleaning.   Hooray!!!  It's over.  I plan to use her for all my future dental work.  But I still had to leave the chair to pee!

Sunday, March 27, 2011

It was a dark and foggy day:

Well this is it.  My blog.  So what do I do with it?  Who's going to read it?  How will anyone find me?  Hello....I'm here.....anyone out there?

Today is dark, gloomy, cold and drizzly, the perfect day to stay indoors and write. Right?  Wrong.  I live on an old homesteaded farm in the middle of nowhere USA.  It's a great place to be alone with your thoughts to write.  But, my studio is the old bunkhouse 100 ft. from the main house and although 100 ft doesn't sound like a big deal can you leave a warm cozy house, where you're tucked into your cozy bathrobe, sipping hot chocolate and don a winter coat, slide across the icy deck, maneuver your way down the even more icy steps to the crunchy grass, then slip and slide your way to the studio door only to realize you left the keys at the main house?  Ask me how many times I've done that?  Okay, second trip, and I do mean trip, up the stairs and onto the deck, ice-skating across it to the door to retrieve my keys.

Get the picture?  So then after the perilous journey back to my studio, ( I can remember several days like this),  I take off my coat, gloves, and hat, then slip into my extra pair of slippers, light a candle and some incense, stand in front of the fireplace to take the chill off and then....the urge to go to the bathroom hits and guess what?  100+ year old bunkhouses have no plumbing.  No plumbing means no bathroom.  Can I hold it?  Maybe.  Can I write while holding it?  Nope.  So it's off with the slippers, on with the coat, blow out the candle, stop the incense, make my way....wind blowing...back to the main house where I surrender the idea of writing to baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies and watching movies.

I've wised up.  I never even attempted the journey today.  Chocolate chip cookies coming up.