Cathy Lamb's Blog, page 60

1. I read a ton of books. Only one was awful. I put it down. Now it’s stuck in my head. I hate that.

2. I learned to love gardening. My late mother would be delighted. She had 23 fruit trees, a geometric patio, and a burgundy clematis that now climbs up my trellis.

3. I cleaned off a wood bird house my late father owned. He used to watch a daring squirrel trying to eat the bird seed out of it when he was resting from chemotherapy. He always laughed at the squirrel. That man knew how to appreciate the smallest things in life, even when his life was ending.

4. I spent many hours running (slowly) in the woods. I had a lot to think about.

5. I walked on the beach.  Why does the beach make me cry sometimes? I just don’t know. It’s like the waves release the emotions.

6. I loved and laughed with my kids. That’s the most important. Laughing and loving.

7. I hugged my husband more.  After 23 years, he’s still huggable.

8. I solved problems. Some big, some small. Some quite  painful, some irritating.

9. I continued to build my relationship with my cat, KC, by meowing back at her. She is strange. Or maybe it’s me.

10. I had lunch with my girlfriends. I do not hang out with groups of women, they make me nervous. But I do have really close girlfriends and one or two of them and I will go to lunch or a play together. I think God gave us girlfriends because he knew that our men would sometimes drive us out of our minds, as would life itself.

11. I had long cups of coffee. You know what I mean.

12. I threw stuff out. I can’t stand clutter. Clutter in the house, clutter in the head. My characters take up enough space in my head, ain’t no more room in there for anything else.

13. I decided that I will be a really good retired person.

14. I encouraged my sister to name her new horse Cathy and the new baby horse Marie. I don’t think she’s going to do that. Darn it.  What I have learned from the horse loving sister: A life spent giving to others – even the ‘others’ with fur and feathers – is a life worth living.

15. I skied. I ingloriously fell multiple times. I didn’t break anything.  I am a terrible skier.

16. I daydreamed.

17. I dealt with a couple of not so nice people. Surely there’s an island where not so nice people can go and live together and be not so nice together and leave the rest of us alone?

18. I decided I really do need to work on being more patient. I’ve got about ten seconds of patience. That is not good.

19. I saw a couple of Van Goghs. You can see his troubled mind so clearly in his paintings. I relate to him.

20. I scribbled in a journal. Finally an idea for a story came to me. Now I have to begin the torture of writing it.

*** What I Remember Most is out in September, 2014.

I am not domesticated at all. I can’t cook, sew, embroider, nothing.  No talent. No patience. No skills in that area, despite that my mother made homemade bread that was the best ever AND homemade jam.

However, I love hand made items. Love ‘em. Especially quilts.

So, this Christmas I paid a friend of mine, Barbara Wright, to make our kids, and my husband, a quilt.  I gave her a whole bunch of favorite, old (worn out) clothes from me, my husband, our kids, our cousins, uncles and aunts, etc.  I also included clothes from my late parents.

For example…My red and black flowered robe that I bought before I even met my husband…a red and white striped apron given to me at my bridal shower 21 years ago from the wonderful and fun teachers I used to work with….my daughter’s purple and pink checked bedspread…my husband’s blue and white striped work shirt…my mother’s cloth napkins with the swirly, organic designs…my twins’ blue and white overalls from when they were babies…my daughters’ favorite jeans when they were little girls with the butterflies and roses…my mother’s beige flowered shirt…a pocket from one of my husband’s fishing vests….a pocket from one of my son’s army pants from when he was five…

Barbara cut all these clothes out and worked her magic.

One of our daughters now has a quilt with books and tea cups, as she loves tea and, like her mother, books.

Another daughter loves her guitar and music, so there are violins, guitars, and musical notes on her quilt.

My son and husband loooovve to fish, so they have fishing quilts. The fish are from my late uncle’s shirt.

 

Thought you might like to see some of the photos….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am not domesticated at all. I can’t cook, sew, embroider, nothing.  No talent. No patience. No skills in that area, despite that my mother made homemade bread that was the best ever AND homemade jam.

However, I love hand made items. Love ‘em. Especially quilts.

So, this Christmas I paid a friend of mine, Barbara Wright, to make our kids, and my husband, a quilt.  I gave her a whole bunch of favorite, old (worn out) clothes from me, my husband, our kids, our cousins, uncles and aunts, etc.  I also included clothes from my late parents.

For example…My red and black flowered robe that I bought before I even met my husband…a red and white striped apron given to me at my bridal shower 21 years ago from the wonderful and fun teachers I used to work with….my daughter’s purple and pink checked bedspread…my husband’s blue and white striped work shirt…my mother’s cloth napkins with the swirly, organic designs…my twins’ blue and white overalls from when they were babies…my daughters’ favorite jeans when they were little girls with the butterflies and roses…my mother’s beige flowered shirt…a pocket from one of my husband’s fishing vests….a pocket from one of my son’s army pants from when he was five…

Barbara cut all these clothes out and worked her magic.

One of our daughters now has a quilt with books and tea cups, as she loves tea and, like her mother, books.

Another daughter loves her guitar and music, so there are violins, guitars, and musical notes on her quilt.

My son and husband loooovve to fish, so they have fishing quilts. The fish are from my late uncle’s shirt.

 

Thought you might like to see some of the photos….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I recently asked this question on facebook….

 

 

Weekly Question Number 1: If you had one month off, and you had to be BY YOURSELF, and could do anything you wanted, money was not a concern, what would you do, where would you go, who would you want to meet, what would you want to experience and learn about yourself?

 

 

These are the answers I received from a whole bunch of interesting, reflective, fun, adventurous dreamers….

Claudia Wenk I would go to the sea and have walks on the beach every day. I would sit and look at the water and breathe. I would have a good book with me. That is perfect to me.
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Lisa Baron Miller I would go from tropical island to island starting with Tahiti & going from there –experience food, culture, the ocean, everything!
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Aron Carleson Great question. You lifted me out and away of a depressing week for just a few seconds.  Italy. Hop on/Hop off train pass.
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Cathy Lamb I’ll answer my own question. I would travel. I’d use my phone to take photos, I’d set up a Writing and Traveling Blog, I’d make sure my kindle was stacked, and I’d take off. I think I would head to Budapest and Prague/Eastern Europe, then India, then Cambodia/Laos. I’d want to talk to anyone willing to chat with me, learn about their lives, their cities, their villages. I would go for a new perspective on life, the world, and myself.
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Dana Velvet Pixie Bokelman I live at the beach so I don’t want that..I would want to go to Rome and just go thru every nook and cranny of the Vatican! Imagine all the secrets there
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Barb Dowdell MacKenzie I would go to Ireland to just drink in the country, its people and food. Meet with Van Morrison in a pub and have him sing me a tune and kiss the blarney stone (wanted to since I was 9) Also find where my ancestors came from.
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Cathy Lamb Oh yes, Dana Velvet Pixie Bokelman Can you imagine the secrets that the pope and cardinals are hiding, the treasures and paintings and artifacts they have that they have not shown the world? Boggles the mind.
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Cathy Lamb Barb Dowdell MacKenzie LOVE Van Morrison. Used one of his songs for our wedding song, 21 years ago…I’m from Ireland, too. Ancestors came during the potato famine, poor people.
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Barb Dowdell MacKenzie was the song “Have I Told You Lately”? My absolute favorite song ever. I was born on Orangeman’s Day and I know my ancestors were protestant.
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Cathy Lamb Aron CarlesonOh, you would love that. You could EASILY spend a month in Italy, MONTHS in Italy, doing just that. Lisa Baron Miller Island hopping has HUGE appeal. Lovely views, relax, great food, time to slow down and READ.
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Lisa Baron Miller van the man!! Ours was Tupelo Honey!
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Barb Dowdell MacKenzie Cleaning Windows is a fave- watched my son singing along when he was about 3 and still warms my heart as a result now.
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Tina Hengen I would head to the woods for an extended camping and hiking trip, would grab my Nikon camera and lots of books, as well as a journal! Absolutely no computers, phones, etc.!
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Joan Beldin Geisbrecht Me too, Ireland is on my bucket list. Would love to meet and go to the pub with common folk.
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Terri Johnsen I’d go to Australia, spend the month diving the Great Barrier Reef, and I’d like to meet God, without dying of course. I’d like to relearn who I really am.
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Kelly J. Phillips San Juan Islands. I live in NC and it is my dream to live there.But I would totaly miss my family. So yea…., after a month of relaxing I’d need the chaos that is my husband, 2 teen boys and my 5 yr old daughter who thinks she’s 15.
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Elaine Donoughe Allen I would go to Tahiti, find me a hut, take my books and just relax!
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Cathy Lamb Ireland is definitely on my List, too. Terri Johnsen That’s an interesting statement you made, “I’d like to meet God, without dying, of course.” Me, too. Dinner with God…Kelly Ambrose Hays I have been to Orcas Island on the San Juans, 15 – 20 times, and i love it. It’s total peace. Just beautiful….but I bet you already know that!
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Terri Johnsen I’m pretty sure my thoughts and brain would make a good study!
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Valerie Haddox Russell Some beach, somewhere…with stack of books, a journal, and drawing supplies. While there, I would find out the life stories of everyone else there. And eat at a bunch of restaurants and visit a spa.
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Katy Shandil I would travel the world, help people that needed food, see All I could see, share ALL I could and learn as much as I could about other cultures. Then write a book about what I learned.
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Joleen Wheeler i would go to Seaside, OR and sit at the bed and breakfast reading my books, sipping diet cokes, eating good seafood, and letting the ocean breeze take away my troubles.
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Joleen Wheeler i would go to Seaside, OR and sit at the bed and breakfast reading my books, sipping diet cokes, eating good seafood, and letting the ocean breeze take away my troubles.
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Julie Davies Miller A beach, some books, a big bath tub and a big fluffy bed….I wouldn’t be anyones wife, mother, employee for a whole month…good for the soul…
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Joni Cape-Everson Hawaii with a pile of books & take a sewing class on Hawaiian quilts !
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Teresa Biewen Marker Wow, you folks are way more ambitious than I am! I would go to Greece or perhaps Italy. Some place where the ocean is blue and clear, I wouldn’t want a “touristy” location. Somewhere where I could walk the beach at sunrise and sunset. Someplace where I could take comfortable clothes and wouldn’t have to pack more than bathing suits, shorts and a few sundresses. I would have my kindle loaded, my phone/camera in my hand and a comfortable beach chair where I could sit at the ocean edge and have the water wash up over me feet and legs. Reading and relaxing…that’s it. I would need a nice sized town close enough that I could spend a few days shopping! Oh yes, enough Lush bath bombs that I could take long relaxing baths every night (I would have to have a fabulous tub as part of my suite)! Thank you Cathy…wonderful little daydream!!
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Tiffani Long I would wander through Yosemite, then Yellowstone..This southern girl loves all things mountains/forests, and I long to lay my eyes and heart on the mighty sequoias and redwoods…then across the globe to the Alps. I wouldn’t want to meet anyone…Just spending quiet time with my Creator and soaking up all the sounds of nature. I would want to see what I could discover about myself without constant noise and conversations with hubs and kiddos–although I adore them the talking is non-stop!
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Anne Marie Anderson Well, if I have to be by myself, I would want to go somewhere where people speak English. I would go to England to tour London, ride on a double-decker bus and all the Londony things to do. Then, I would go to explore the little village near Bideford where my ancestors came from. After that, I would go to Ireland – just because it’s close – and then I would go to Scottland to explore Paisley (where my step-dad’s family is from) and of course, I would have to go to Loch Ness. Maybe Nessie will come check me out if I’m there by myself. 
And as far as Van Morrison? Brown Eyed Girl has always been my song to my daughter.
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Lillian Aman Nedeau A month backpacking through Italy and France. B&B’s, churches, castles and museums. Mingle with locals. Eat. Slow down. Blog every day.
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Sherry Gorman A house right on the beach in Hanalei Bay. I would kayak and hike the Napali coast, standup paddle board in the bay, and eat my body weight in local kine grinds. I don’t know what I’d learn about myself, but hopefully it wouldn’t be that local kine grinds add ten pounds to the hips
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Lisa Sizemore Poss I would go to Italy and rent a villa by the ocean. I would rent a car. Every day I would go to different places cafes, whatever maybe some wineries. But they would be off the beaten path. At night I would go back to my villa and watch the ocean. Then I w would never come back!
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Allis Reppert 1. Books, books, and more books! 2. Sea side 3. Big claw foot bath tub 4. Big fluffy bed 5. And throw in Steven Tyler!!
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Jennifer Boettler-Barker Go to France, spend days and days touring the Louver, eating pastries and visiting wineries. I love traveling by myself..no pressures to be anywhere or do anything I don’t want to do.
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Patty Carlson Pachta A month in Napa/Sonoma. Wouldn’t be enough time though.
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ILene Kat Hamende A hut on the water in Bora Bora with good books and relaxing music. I would want solitude. The world is becoming sensory overload in my old age.
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Stephanie Coffey exploring Ireland!
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Connie Binion Italy.
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De Hansbrough I would go to the Luberon in France.
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Logan Lazo I would get a personal trainer and personal chef to follow me everywhere. I’d travel to some foreign countries, see as much as I could while staying in the nicest of hotels getting spa treatment. Totally pampering myself!
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Tara White Robinett I would go to Oregon and hang out with my favorite author Cathy Lamb!! We could go to the coast and collect driftwood and rocks and then go hiking in the cascades and maybe find a river to sit next to.
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Dusti Douglass I would go anywhere that I could immerse myself in the arts. Maybe NYC? Theater, museums, lectures, concerts, galleries – from the known to the up and coming artists. I think I would feed my soul until I felt bloated and drunk on life and culture and then maybe the inane wouldn’t feel like such a chore for a while.
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Cathy Lamb Tara White Robinett That sounds fun!! You would love the coast here..Dusti DouglassYes, NYC would be great!! Symphony, museums of all sorts, plays and Broadway!
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Cathie Hedrick Armstrong Just one thing??? If not, I’d want to visit the highlands of Scotland, then Ireland and England – making sure to catch all of the wonderful historical locations. With what I’d have left, I’d like to find a deserted island somewhere nice and sunny, but not too hot/humid to just sit in the beach and read my books while enjoying the beautiful weather and solitude.
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Simone Gonzales If I had a month to do anything I wanted, I’d tour the Hawaiian islands. Lanai for a week, Maui for a week, Kauai for a week, and Molokai for a week. I’d sleep in a hammock under the stars, I’d walk everywhere I went, and I would only wear a swimsuit and maybe a pair of flip-flops. I’d talk to all the locals and drink wine under the stars with my toes in the water.
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Cathy Lamb Simone Gonzales Then you MUST read Molokai by Alan Brennert and Honolulu before you go….
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Debbi Paolillo I would tour Europe for a month, especially England……..
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Debbie Rhodes I would sit by the sea and drink sweet tea as the sound of crashing waves washed my soul clean from all woes. A book alone would be my companion other than seagulls sneaking closer for a potato chip. Audrey Hepburn would be a choice to chat with over meals. Harriet Tubman would be another one. Sigh…
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Peggy Aube Strout I would travel, to Scotland, Ireland, Paris…..and take tons of pictures…..
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Dana Kennedy Criger I would spend it at a beach house in Maine, with a white cozy chair on the wrap around porch. I would read and scrapbook and walk the beach. I’d pick wildflowers and decorate the table with them. I’d watch people and I would pray for guidance to be a better me. I’d sleep in until I wanted to and wear pajamas all day. I’d eat pancakes for dinner and write in a journal. It would be my perfect escape.
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Hannah Grace I’d explore Ireland, and go horse back riding along the coast.
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Michelle Kasper Hagerty Time travel has great appeal. I would be in the crowd for the fish and loaves, be Amish for a day, be a visiting cousin to Laura, Mary and Carrie and stay in the loft of the cabin on the Banks of Plum Creek. I would learn how to bead and make moccasins from Native Americans in a teepee. I would take music lessons from Mozart, watch Leo paint the Mona Lisa and ask her what the secret smile about. I would watch the sunrise from a castle, take a stroll in my fancy gown and bonnet in Hyde Park and watch them build the Eiffel Tower. I would dance on the moon with Neil Armstrong, eat a fancy meal on the titanic, and shop with Marilyn Monroe. And on the last day… I would meet my husband sooner so I could love him longer.
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Ruthie DeLancy Talbott Travel to Austria and meet relatives I have never met., see how they live.
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Terry Diemer previous comments hold things I want too. Otherwise, I would travel, mebbe a walking tour of europe, or a cooking class. Perhaps a volunteer at a disaster. I would want to meet REAL people that LOVE life and others and give and get tons of hugs. I would love to hook up with Elton John. I would want to learn more about being kind and strong. I would probably want to be a ride along with Anthony Bourdain, since he seems to have the clue about learning more about the world and food. The best would be using that time and money in order to make ME a better person, and make other peoples lives better. Ultimate would be a result, like finding friends and a profession that makes the rest of my life worth living.
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Michelle Ray Mash I would rent the Screaming Mimi at Corolla Beach and take a bunch of pictures and read and collect sea shells.
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Cathy Lamb Michelle Kasper Hagerty You’re right. time travel does have appeal. I’ll have to use that in another question, another week. Loved where you would travel to. Ruthie DeLancy Talbott How fun. Off you go. Terry Diemer Now that is a very thoughtful and interesting answer.
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Gillian Dorrance Fish I honestly don’t know…I cannot even imagine having a month to be alone. definitely travel…somewhere by the sea. maybe learn yoga. read. do all the projects that I have wanted to do around the house but never have had the time (and that drive me crazy on a regular basis). and write, I would just sit and be still and write about all the things that are bouncing around in my brain.
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Jessica Morrell I would spend it traveling alone in either Scotland and Ireland or France and Italy. I would travel by train and wear scarves and beautiful fabrics. I would visit art and eat food I could never eat at home. I would drink champagne daily and try new wines. I’d talk with strangers and browse in shops full of expensive and exquisite goods. I’d practice other languages and admire architecture. I’d sit and contemplate the joys of living amid the grace of cathedrals, watch sunsets, and make new friends. I’d meet authors I’ve admired from afar and find storytellers wherever I went. Thanks for the morning dream….
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Raejean Mast Mattison So many beautiful places I have been, so many more I have not…I would need an ocean, quiet , sand, sun and warm breezes. A yoga mat, a bike, a fire pit or fireplace and firewood. A small town or village within walking or biking distance. if I feel the need for conversation I can visit with anyone, a fact which causes my children great horror! Although I enjoy a great meal prepared by someone else , I am content making my own. If I had my above wishes, with books and music of my choosing, I would be thrilled with anything from a quiet place in Hawaii, to Italy, Greece, Mexico, Thailand? I would miss my husband, but can I take my dog?
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Raejean Mast Mattison And I would use the time praying and resting. Searching for the next step in life. Career change? Second degree? Cut back? Volunteer?
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Jessica Morrell Rajean I love the addition of the fire pit and prayers. And thanks all for your visions. They’re so nourishing….
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Cathy Lamb Raejean Mast Mattison Yes, of course you can take your dog. I would not take the dog away from you….enjoy the yoga mat WITH Fido. Jessica Morrell That is a lovely vision and you should write a book about it. I’m not kidding.
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Cathy Lamb: As soon as I am done writing these interview questions I’m going to grab my coffee, sit down, and finish book 5 of Wool. I can’t wait.

I have loved your four previous Wool books, and am halfway through five. I can’t wait to see how it ends. I am having a very hard time predicting the ending as, based on your writing before book five, I can’t see your trajectory here and what rather shocking surprises will come up, as have come up in the previous Wool books.

In fact, I was so surprised by what you did, as an author, in the first two books, my jaw dropped and I had to tap it back up so I wouldn’t look ridiculous.

Please tell everyone about the plot line of Wool as, obviously, you can tell it so much better than I can. AND PLEASE, it’s driving me crazy. What year does this story take place in?

Wool is about a group of people who are born, grow old, and die while living in an underground silo. They’ve lived there so long that there are only legends of people having lived elsewhere. Their world turns upside down when the sheriff leaves in search of his wife. A woman named Juliette, who works as a mechanic in the depths of the silo, is chosen as the new sheriff. And she soon begins to uncover the secret behind why they live underground.

 

Give us the details of the silo that people live in, underground. I am fascinated by the size and depth, the rooms and hallways, the farms and labs…

 

The silo is incredibly deep. There are 144 floors, and each floor is 40 feet tall. It’s an entire city stacked on top of itself. This is an idea that’s been toyed with in the past, and some people have even begun to convert old missile silos into self-sufficient worlds like this.

 

What sparked the idea for the series?

 

Watching 24-hour news. I have traveled quite a bit, and I know the world isn’t as bad as it’s presented to be. I wondered what this does to our hope for the future. The heroes of my story are those who dare to hope, even in the face of dire news about their world.

 

I was very curious about your publishing history with this series. You self published Wool on Amazon. Why did you choose that route? What happened after you self published?

 

Wool was my 8th published work. I self-publish because I’m more interested in telling stories than fighting to get them through a series of gates. We now have the tools and technology to publish our stories direct to the readers, both digitally and in print. I spend less time publishing my work than most people spend writing letters to agents and dealing with rejection. Once the book is out there, I start writing the next one. To me, it was never about massive sales or having a career doing this, it was just about doing something I love.

 

I have that same passion for writing that you do. I can’t imagine doing anything else.

 

You now have a traditional publishing house who allowed you to keep the rights to the ebook sales, is that correct? Is this the best of both worlds, publishing wise, a publishing house to distribute the paper books to the US and the world and e-books distributed by the author through Amazon?

 

We signed a deal that had never been done before, not by a major New York publisher. But I don’t know that I would do it again. I enjoyed creating my own print books as well, and bookstores were starting to carry them. It was a novel experience, but I prefer to publish on my own here in the US. I’m happy to partner with publishers overseas. Wool has been picked up in over 30 territories worldwide, and I’ve had a blast traveling and supporting those releases.

 

What do you see are the benefits/challenges of self publishing vs. traditional publishing? I find the whole question, and people’s experiences with both, fascinating.

 

I think the path you take depends on what you want to put in and what you expect to get out. Self-publishing is like owning your own business. That can mean longer hours, but it means a lot more of the profits come to you. Traditional publishing is like taking a job at a large corporation. You work on someone else’s schedule. You write what they want you to write. Different personalities will find joy in one or the other of these paths. I recommend trying both to see which works best for you.

 

As an author with a NYC publishing house, I have wrestled with how valuable different social media outlets are, how much time I should spend blogging, marketing, etc. I have finally come to the conclusion that I should be on Facebook, blog now and then, maintain a website, put up photos on Pinterest when I have a new book come out, and feed my blog to Amazon and Goodreads.

 

Other than that, I feel like I can easily get wrapped up in too much marketing and then all energy and creativity is gone for the writing part, not to mention time.

 

What are your thoughts on that? What should an author do in terms of PR and marketing?

 

Whether you self-publish or go with a major house, you’ll need to do some mix of social media. Very few authors have the brand to “just write.” Publishers expect a lot of writers these days. My strategy was to spend very little time on these things until my works had traction. I concentrated on the writing. I told myself I could write for ten years before I cared if my works took off. It’s not like they grow old or stale. An undiscovered work is a brand new work.

 

When you do engage in social media, my advice is to just interact with existing readers. Begging for new readers is off-putting. Be entertaining or spread whatever wisdom you’ve accumulated. Useful people are better rewarded than salespeople.

 

You are so  right. Thank you for that advice. 

 

You have had a very interesting life. Makes mine seem so dull. You lived on a sailboat, survived two hurricanes, worked on boats in the Caribbean and the Bahamas, and now you’re a writer. Was it always The Plan to be a writer? If you weren’t a writer, what would you be?

 

I always dreamed of being a writer. And before I wrote novels, I wrote letters, poetry, and short accounts of my adventures. But I never thought it would become a career. If I wasn’t writing, I’d be sailing around the world, dead-broke, doing odd jobs here and there.

 

The sailing around the world bit sounds lovely to me. The dead broke part, not so much. Been there years ago, done that, didn’t like it. But I think I would be good at reading books on the beach in the Bahamas.

 

Can you tell us about your day to day life in Jupiter, Florida? Do you write all day? Only late at night? Early in the morning?

 

I write in the mornings, take my dog for a walk around lunch time, and then do business stuff in the afternoon. Right now, I’m traveling quite a bit. My latest work, SAND, was written entirely on the road. I find hotels and airports keen places to write (I’m answering these questions in the Palm Beach airport on my way out of town again).

 

And when you are not traveling and writing, what are your hobbies and interests?

 

In this order: Reading, writing, my dog, photography. And pizza.

 

Well, of course. All Americans have a hobby in pizza. That’s a given.

 

What are you working on now?

 

A speech I have to give in two days. And some secret stuff.

 

Thank you so much for your time.

 

Hugh Howey’s website       http://www.hughhowey.com/

 

 

From USA TODAY
Romance authors share their favorite childhood toys




HAPPY EVER AFTER

Joyce Lamb, Special for USA TODAY8 a.m. EDT April 12, 2014

 

HEA asked some of our favorite romance authors to share their memories about a favorite childhood toy. Enjoy!

 

 


Cathy Lamb’s ceramic statue of Little Bo Peep.(Photo: Cathy Lamb)

Cathy Lamb, author of If You Could See What I See

My favorite childhood toy was a tiny ceramic statue of Little Bo Peep who lost her sheep. She has a fluffy yellow dress on with a huge bow, a jaunty yellow hat, and she’s carrying a basket of flowers. Now, it’s surprising that I loved Little Bo Peep. She did, after all, look rather prissy. Plus, she had lost her sheep. Come on, Bo Peep, keep track of ‘em. As a kid, I ran around outside all the time. I climbed trees, hid in forts, played tag and hide and seek, and would never have brushed my hair had my mother not insisted. To put it kindly, I was quite homely. Bo Peep was not. She had every lock in place. She even wore lipstick. I rarely wore dresses. We were exact opposites. But I loved her and her sparkly gold shoes, and still have her, to this day. That ditzy Bo Peep lost her sheep, and that my last name is now Lamb is not lost on me.

 

 

Stay tuned to HEA for more from authors about their childhood toys!

I am having a very bad cooking week.

This is not unusual.

I don’t like to cook.

I am not very domesticated and have zero talent in the kitchen. This, despite the fact that my late mother, an English teacher, used to bake bread from scratch and make home made plum jelly that would make you think you were eating heaven.

Still, Costco and their ready made meals and I are very good friends. Perhaps a little TOO close. I do manage to get dinner on the table and none of my children, so far, have starved, though they do whine and complain that there is “nothing to eat” despite a packed pantry.

As a fiction writer, I will now say something bad about women who are cook book writers. Here it is:

I hardly know what to do with them or what to think. There they smile on the covers of their cook books, their hair tamed and brushed, in pretty outfits, not a blackened pan in sight. They wield a wooden cooking spoon, matching red mixing bowls nearby, with a full counter full of delicious meals or desserts in front of them. There is no mention that they just swallowed horse sized tranquilizers to get everything so perfect, so I’m going to assume they didn’t.

fire alarm delete 006The cook book authors say their recipes are “easy” with only 125 ingredients, some of which I don’t even recognize. Perhaps the ingredients are in Latin?

If that were me on the cover of a cook book, my hair would be singed, there would be flour on my boobs, I would have a super pissed off expression on my face, and half the stuff on the counter would be burned.

They don’t have two foot tall fires on the stove like I did a few days ago when I was de – thawing some Chinese meal. They don’t have to get out the fire extinguisher like Tall Son had to. After the fire went out Oldest Daughter said to me, in all seriousness, with a pathetic, begging expression on her sweet face, “Mom, please don’t cook anymore. Please.”

They don’t make toasted cheese sandwiches that are burned on one side and hardly done on the other. They don’t break their blue and white dishes.

My husband says that I cook by fire alarm. As in, when the smoke billows around the room and the fire alarm goes off, that’s when I know to pull the meal out of the oven.

I try not get real personal about my twenty year marriage, so I’ll just say that if my glare could have felled a man, well, my man would have been on the floor, clutching his heart and his crotch and begging for testicular mercy.

January 2014 blgo photos 036Tonight I made a crock pot chicken recipe my sister from Montana gave me for tomorrow night. The whole thing is so simple, but I managed to forget it was cooking and let the whole thing melt in there for six hours, not four.

This was a dumb thing to do as I could smell the chicken and spices. It did not occur to me to check the timing on it, probably because I was in the midst of writing a hot love scene and forgot about it. (This guy, Josh, is sexy beyond sexy, ladies. I have created him for you.)

In fact, I often forget what’s on the stove because I get lost in my work. Or in my daydreaming. This is a problem I acknowledge.







January 2014 blgo photos 032

Sometimes my lack of cooking abilities, I will admit, makes me feel like less of a woman. It does. I try to cook, but I just don’t like it, have no patience, and I’m not good at it.

What to do?

Well, that is obvious. I will simply go back to looking at overly done – up women on the covers of cook books and cursing them and their impossible creations. They’re probably on horse sized tranquilizers anyhow.

That should solve the problem nicely. And, if it doesn’t, I will employ a Cathy Rule I learned long ago, in the kitchen: When problems can’t be solved, they should be eaten.

Pass the frozen chocolate chip cookie dough.

Yesterday my publishing house sent me the proof for my new book What I Remember Most, out in September.

This is the last time I will edit my book. It’s my twelfth (!!) edit. I have no desire to edit it a thirteenth time. In fact, if someone insisted I do so, I might move to a cave in Tanzania and take up yoga and I hate yoga.

The manuscript is now in book form. There should be few errors in the proof. I’m looking for any grammar corrections, spacing problems, accidentally deleted words, etc.

Hopefully I do not find any glaring errors, as that is very, very bad at this point in the publishing game.

Unfortunately, I have found glaring errors, my fault, in the past, and have wanted to take my brains out of my head and punch them for not catching the errors earlier – like in the previous eleven edits.

Luckily, they were fixable, I only stopped breathing a few times, and correctable. I hope that won’t happen again, but we’ll see.

It’s a relief to have that heavy manuscript in my hands. It is not a relief to know I have to very carefully, ploddingly, semi – obsessively read every word YET AGAIN, but the manuscript is finished.

All those words I wrote, 152,000 for this novel, another 40,000 written, then cut out, are now printed on 486 pages.

It looks like a book. It looks real.

This will be the last time I’ll ever read this book, unless I’m at a speaking engagement or book club, then I’ll read a few pages. But about 480 pages, I’ll never set eyes on again. Why? Because I’m done. It’s done.

I am often asked by readers to write sequels, particularly for Julia’s Chocolates. I never want to say never, but I have zero interest in writing sequels. The story, in my head, was imagined, day – dreamed, twisted, turned, and spiraled around and about, and I don’t want to engage those characters again.

Blog Photos April 7 2014 038

I’m happy with What I Remember Most.

Do I think I’m a brilliant writer? I don’t. In fact, if pushed, off the top of my head I could name fifty books, by fifty authors, who are far more talented than me and given another few minutes, add fifty more.

But what I do know is that I did my best with my novel. I poured everything I had into What I Remember Most, and came out the other end wiped out.

As usual, I cried and laughed over that book. I interviewed many people who had been ripped through hard times as kids. I had a tour of jail, which was truly upsetting. I researched some tough topics. I try to go as deep as I can emotionally into all my characters, and as they are all troubled, it can be an exhausting time.

After I turned in this novel, in December, I wrote a short story for an anthology titled Our First Christmas, also out in September, and finished at the end of February. I then edited my novel again, which I received from production from my publishing house.

Since then, I’ve taken time off. I wrote a few blog posts, launched my Read Like Crazy Book Club on facebook, cleaned my house and hung out with my kids, my husband and the cat.

I skied. I am a terrible skier. I walked a lot. I sat and stared out the windows into my backyard and watched the birds. I drank a lot of coffee and bought myself a box of chocolates and worked through a few things in my head I hadn’t had time to work through.

I rested. I read. I went to lunch with my girlfriends and we laughed. I spent hours and hours of time alone. I got the characters out of my mind from the novel and short story and settled down.

And now, after this final edit, I’ll be on to the next book, due in December. A whole new passel of characters.

This morning a gang of free floating ideas roaming around in my head morphed into a plot. Most of it came to me on my run in the woods. (Uh. Jog. I don’t ‘run,’ I jog, and try not to pant overly hard.)

I have a few skittery thoughts: A farm, a vet, a surprise, a graveyard. I don’t know what will pan out, what won’t. I don’t know who will fall in love, or die. Or if anyone will die. It’s all a story mystery.

I am, however, so glad that What I Remember Most is almost done.

It’s about a woman named Grenadine Scotch Wild. She’s on the run.

I hope you like it.

Yesterday my publishing house sent me the proof for my new book What I Remember Most, out in September.

This is the last time I will edit my book.  It’s my twelfth (!!) edit. I have no desire to edit it a thirteenth time.  In fact, if someone insisted I do so, I might move to a cave in Tanzania and take up yoga and I hate yoga.

The manuscript is now in book form. There should be few errors in the proof. I’m looking for any grammar corrections, spacing problems, accidentally deleted words, etc.

Hopefully I do not find any glaring errors, as that is very, very bad at this point in the publishing game.

Unfortunately, I have found glaring errors, my fault, in the past, and have wanted to take my brains out of my head and punch them for not catching the errors earlier – like in the previous eleven edits.

Luckily, they were fixable, I only stopped breathing a few times, and correctable. I hope that won’t happen again, but we’ll see.

It’s a relief to have that heavy manuscript in my hands. It is not a relief to know I have to very carefully, ploddingly, semi – obsessively read every word YET AGAIN, but the manuscript is finished.

All those words I wrote, 152,000 for this novel, another 40,000 written, then cut out, are now printed on 486 pages.

It looks like a book. It looks real.

This will be the last time I’ll ever read this book, unless I’m at a speaking engagement or book club, then I’ll read a few pages. But about 480 pages, I’ll never set eyes on again. Why? Because I’m done. It’s done.

I am often asked by readers to write sequels, particularly for Julia’s Chocolates. I never want to say never, but I have zero interest in writing sequels. The story, in my head, was imagined, day – dreamed, twisted, turned, and spiraled around and about, and I don’t want to engage those characters again.

I’m happy with What I Remember Most.

Do I think I’m a brilliant writer? I don’t. In fact, if pushed, off the top of my head I could name fifty books, by fifty authors, who are far more talented than me and given another few minutes, add fifty more.

But what I do know is that I did my best with my novel.  I poured everything I had into What I Remember Most, and came out the other end wiped out.

As usual, I cried and laughed over that book. I  interviewed many people who had been ripped through hard times as kids. I had a tour of jail, which was truly upsetting. I researched some tough topics. I try to go as deep as I can emotionally into all my characters, and as they are all troubled, it can be an exhausting time.

After I turned in this novel, in December, I wrote a short story for an anthology titled Our First Christmas, also out in September, and finished at the end of February. I then edited my novel again, which I received from production from my publishing house.

Since then, I’ve taken time off. I wrote a few blog posts, launched my Read Like Crazy Book Club on facebook, cleaned my house and hung out with my kids, my husband and the cat.

I skied. I am a terrible skier. I walked a lot. I sat and stared out the windows into my backyard and watched the birds. I drank a lot of coffee and bought myself a box of chocolates and worked through a few things in my head I hadn’t had time to work through.

I rested. I read. I went to lunch with my girlfriends and we laughed. I spent hours and hours of time alone. I got the characters out of my mind from the novel and short story and settled down.

And now, after this final edit, I’ll be on to the next book, due in December. A whole new passel of characters.

This morning a gang of free floating ideas roaming around in my head morphed into a plot. Most of it came to me on my run in the woods. (Uh. Jog. I don’t ‘run,’ I jog, and try not to pant overly hard.)

I have a few skittery thoughts: A farm, a vet, a surprise, a graveyard. I don’t know what will pan out, what won’t. I don’t know who will fall in love, or die. Or if anyone will die. It’s all a story mystery.

I am, however, so glad that What I Remember Most is almost done.

It’s about a woman named Grenadine Scotch Wild. She’s on the run.

I hope you like it.

Starting a new book is like jumping off a literary cliff without a parachute.  I think of myself, arms spread wide, mouth open in shock, spiraling rapidly downward.

My imagination is starting to chug along, the ideas starting to form, the symbols coming to me, the issues and problems beginning to whisper…and then I start journaling. Writing. Drafting. Drawing. Cutting out pictures. Walking more. Daydreaming more. Spending more time alone.  Slugging down coffee. It’s like going into Writing Hibernation. The real world gets vague for me.

This is what I have so far, in terms of my next book. These are random and disorganized thoughts, and pictures from my journal, photos from trips, that are the launching pad of my new novel…

 

I am super picky about what, and which authors, I read.  I love reading, but I always study what I’m reading. too.  How did the author bring me into the story? How did she make me care? Is there a magical rhythm to the words? What about word choice, pacing, surprises and twists? Was there a special quality to the tone and voice, the setting, the suspense? What was original about the plot in general?

Toni Morrison, I’ll never be, but I truly try, in every book I write, to be better than I was before. So what do I need to work on this time? Where am I failing? Where can I do better, be better, as a writer? How do I dig deeper emotionally and put that on the page?

 

 

 

 

 

I think it would be fun if my main gal in my next novel has twin cats. I also keep seeing owls pop up everywhere:  At a museum I was at in Central Oregon recently. On Pinterest. In books.  I think someone’s trying to tell me something, so there will be owls in my next book.  What do they symbolize, though? Where do they fit? Is it their wings and free flight? Their watchfulness? The appearance of being intellectual? Their ability to disappear? Their feathers? And how does that relate to my plot?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I live in Oregon, but part of my heart is in Montana. I couldn’t live through the winters, but everything else is natural and perfect. Yellowstone. Glacier. My sister’s place with her six horses, three dogs, and a cat named Marvin. The Swan Mountains. Flathead Lake. Whitefish.  That place has heart and heart is what I need in every chapter, every paragraph, every sentence of my book. If there is no heart in it, I take it out. I am brutal with my edits.  I cut out tens of thousands of words in every book I write. Sometimes it’s not until the sixth edit that I chop them out. And yes, even in the sixth edit I’ll sometimes cut out a character, too. Goodbye, character!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Add science to my book via a kid? Contrast faith and science?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beautiful beaded bags by the Payuse Indians.  Do I incorporate history into my book? I love history. If I do so, how do I do it? What time period? Do I tie the past characters and current time characters together? How? Why? What will it add? Where is their link?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is something about the Deschutes River that grips my soul.  Rushing, peaceful, rocky, dangerous, stark and barren, lush. It has it all. I took this photo last weekend. I am playing with this line for my book, “Where does the water come from?” It’s a literal and metaphorical question.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This furry guy driving the car is very funny. I have to remember to put humor in my books. I can get waylaid sometimes in the real life moments, the issues and struggles, and I end up going back and adding the laughter.  This happened, especially, with Henry’s Sisters. I wrote that book after my father and father in law died the same year, and by the time I was done with the first draft, it was quite clear what it needed: Laughter.

I want to start my next novel with a joyful, funny premise.  But where’s the premise? Come on, brain, think!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Serenity is in a color blasted sunset. To me, they’re a gift. Every one is different and they change minute by minute. They surprise and delight. That’s how I want to write – surprise and delight – and I want to make my readers shed a tear and laugh so loud they startle the person next to them on the bus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This says, below, “Structure the book around symphony.” I love the symphony. Love the structure of the concertos. Love Bach, Beethoven, Dvorak, Rachminoff, and Mozart. Love Itzhak Perlman, Hilary Hahn, Emanuel Ax, and Lang Lang. Sometimes I think that being at the symphony (or the beach) is the only time I can truly think.

When I write my first draft, I write 2,000 words a day. Once I have that first sentence, I’m off and writing and I don’t stop until the book is done, and the book is never done until it has been edited eight times. It’s a mind boggling project that sometimes has me simultaneously breathing deeply and gritting my teeth.

My last book, What I Remember Most, out in September, was edited NINE times. Thought I’d lose my mind, but there it was. It simply wasn’t ready until that ninth edit was done and I knew it. Felt it in my gut.

Hopefully, this time, I can get it done in eight edits.

Now, if I could only blend all these thoughts together and get the story straight in my head…