Sarah Price's Blog, page 10

There’s one thing about being on the road that I love more than anything: it’s meeting new people and spending time with old friends.

During my short stay in Ohio, it was lovely to catch up with my dear friends, Kathy Millburn, Juanita Cook, and Kathleen Popp. We’ve been friends for several years, thanks to Facebook and it was great to meet up in person with them again. They were kind enough to invite me to supper. So thoughtful, it truly warmed my heart!

But I also met some new friends. On Thursday, I met Carole at the Dayspring Christian Bookstore. She came into the store with her copy of An Empty Cup and a story the rivaled my own novel! Why, I had tears in my eyes as did Michelle (aka Wonder Woman because she keeps me on track and remembers everything that I always seem to forget—I couldn’t do any of this without Michelle). And then she bought some more books.

Now, that might seem like a silly thing to toss me over the moon with delight. But it does! When a reader buys my books, they are sending a huge message to the bookstores and the publishers: I like this author. Even more importantly is the second message: Hire her to write more books.

So many times, people ask me for free books. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could give everyone a free book? The truth is that I have to pay for my own books. So whenever I give out a free book, I, too, had to buy it. Now, I sure don’t mind giving away some free books. That’s part of my nature as a Rosanna Yoder (ala An Empty Cup). I love to give. In fact, at the one supper that Kathy Millburn organized, I hadn’t planned on giving away some books but I sure did. Juanita had driven from Nebraska! Kathy from Pennsylvania! And Kathleen from Wisconsin! Wow. That’s a lot of mileage so I was happy to gift them a book.

And then there was Vickie and Bobbi.

Well. They showed up and I sure wish I could have spent more time with them. Such lovely ladies. They, too, had driven far for the weekend—not to meet me, but to meet friends and enjoy some nice fellowship.

I have to tell you that I was stunned. They walked in with a shopping bag full of books. My books. They had gone to a bookstore and practically cleaned out the shelves of Sarah Price titles. I could have cried with joy. What a powerful message they just sent! I was very glad that I had extra books and could send them home with a few books that the store hadn’t carried.

You see? That’s what I love about traveling. I get to meet the real people behind the Facebook accounts. I get to talk to them, to see their reactions, to listen to them laugh. I get to see the sparkle in their eyes and learn about them as people, not as Facebook accounts.

I learned an awful lot about these wonderful ladies. All of them. And I was so touched that Carole, Vickie and Bobbi took time out of their travels to meet me AND to invest in some Sarah Price novels. It’s nice to meet people who are givers, too, and not just takers. People who are supportive of this author (as well as others) because it takes a long time to write a novel and carry it through to publication. And, just like everyone else, we, too, have bills to pay.

In the upcoming months, I’m thrilled that many of my Amish fiction books will be distributed in more stores such as Walmart and large bookstores. And the price will be lower because the books are being mass produced by the publisher. So, remember, if you love an author (any author) the best way to show it is to help the author out by purchasing the book. Let bookstores know that you want them to carry that author (or authors).

And, when you have a chance to meet an author, just know that meeting you is one of the greatest benefits of being an author. Next year, I’ll be back in Ohio and Indiana, most likely in the autumn again. I’m also hoping to invite some of my good author friends to join me. So stay tuned for upcoming announcements about next year’s road trip.

The post Meeting new people, making new friends, and the business of books appeared first on Sarah Price.

Many of you may have noticed that, besides Amish fiction, I’ve been publishing some non-Amish fiction. It’s a genre called women’s issues.

You might wonder why I would want to write in a different genre. For starters, I have always loved change and welcome new challenges. And writing in this genre is definitely a new challenge.

My upcoming book, Heavenly Blues, focuses on a character, Laura, who you met briefly in my book, The Faded Photo. She is a woman just like you and I: a wife, mother, employee. In the 21st century, we might escape to the world of the Amish through the pages of my books like Plain Fame or Belle, but in reality it’s just that: an escape.

For most of us, our day-to-day lives are very different than the Amish. We juggled many different balls and, if you are like me, might have difficulties keeping all of those balls in the air.

Sidebar: Even though I traveled with the circus when I was 18 and 21, I never learned to juggle.

Yesterday, I was traveling to Massachusetts with my daughter, Cat. We went to pick up her friend and fellow mustang trainer, Sam, and Sam’s horse, Lynx. Both girls are competing in Texas—another lonnnnnnggggg journey ahead of us.

Whenever we drive, Cat plays the role of navigator, reading me the directions and helping me figure out when to turn or, when I inevitably get lost, how to find my way back to the correct road.

We’ve travelled to Massachusetts enough to know that we MUST avoid CT-15, a road that leads directly to our destination but forbids trucks, trailers, and commercial vehicles. Great, right?

The GPS constantly takes us to CT-15. I don’t understand why the GPS doesn’t have an option to avoid those types of roads (hint, hint for app developers). Cat began to get frustrated. Every time the directions re-routed, the GPS took us to ANOTHER “passenger cars only” road. Eventually, she announced that she gave up.

“Just take it, Mom!”

But I refused. I explained to her that, if I did, we could get a ticket and that ticket would result in a fine, points on my license, and an increase to my husband’s insurance. Eventually, we were routed to I-84 and guess what happened?

It shaved off 45 minutes of our journey from all of the new re-routed directions!

The obvious first question is why didn’t the GPS just tell us to go on I-84 in the first place! But it made me think that this was a great life lesson for both me and Cat.

You see, sometimes in life, the easiest way to get to a destination is not the right way to travel.

Especially in the day and age of social media, people often think that success should be easy. We cut corners. We expect instant gratification. We long for what others already have. But we haven’t looked at what they have sacrificed to get there.

Maybe it looks like other people have it easy.

But they don’t.

Sometimes we have to take a little longer road that appears more complicated or difficult in order to achieve our ultimate goals. But if you have faith, you WILL get there.

I don’t think God wants us to “have it easy” and I’ll tell you why. When we expect things without putting in the long, hard hours of work…the blood, sweat, and tears…we don’t appreciate what we get.

For so many years, I wanted to be a published author. Over forty years ago, I began writing. Literally…I was eight! That’s all I ever wanted to be…a writer. To share stories. To live in my imagination. To craft beautiful sentences from words that touched people.

It hasn’t been easy.

It still isn’t.

But I never gave up that dream. The road to get to where I was NOT the road I thought I would travel. But God led me to the right little, dusty lane that, once I began trotting along, showed me that I could reach the destination without taking the GPS given road.

Funny how things like that happen.

What do you want in life? Are you trying to take the road most travelled or are you willing to bypass the typical navigation given by society to find your own dusty, little lanes? You might be surprised that God rewards those who are willing to not following GPS directions but keeps the faith in HIS directions.

The post Dusty Little Lanes appeared first on Sarah Price.

I’m super excited to announce that, beginning on September 1, 2017, you will notice a new tab on my website that will link to a separate blog, Amish Fiction Authors. I’ve invited several of my personal favorite authors of Amish fiction to write blogs about the Amish, their writing, their inspirations, and more! We will also have weekly book reviews on their different books and one-of-a-kind Amish photos taken by our dear friends at Destination Amish (www.destinationamish.com).

One of the reasons that I wanted to organize this coalition is because there are some really amazing authors that you may or may not be familiar with. These particular people that I’ve invited to be a part of the blog are more than just great writers—they are also really great people. That’s very important to me. You see, these authors share my love and respect for both Amish religion and culture (as opposed to “authors” who simply flood the market with poorly written books and demonstrate zero knowledge about the Amish).

Now, that being said, I only had a limited number of spots for blogging so just because someone is not participating does not mean that they are not fine authors. Several declined due to health and work issues. However, you can be assured that the authors who are part of this coalition are wonderful authors to read!

I can’t wait for September 1st and to surprise you with different authors that will be sharing their experiences, knowledge, and books with you!

Hugs and blessings,

Sarah Price

P.S. A quick thank you for sharing this information with your friends who might enjoy learning more about some really great authors of Amish fiction.

The post Amish Fiction Authors appeared first on Sarah Price.

Question #1: “Do you love to read?”

Raise your hands if the answer is yes! But I bet I know the answer. If you are reading this blog, you are a reader and chances are that you love to read.

Question #2 “Do you love good deals?”

Another easy one. Keep those hands raised because, frankly, who DOESN’T love a good deal!

Question #3: “Do you know anyone who suffered from cancer?”

Bet all of your hands are still raised. Ouch.

(you can lower your hands now)

In May 2017, my first women’s fiction book, The Faded Photo, was published by Waterfall Press. Unlike my other novels that are centered in Amish country, this book deals with a subject that is much more realistic and probably hits far too close to home.

However, The Faded Photo isn’t just about cancer. It’s about families. Dysfunctional families with the woman at the center, trying to hold it all together.

Did you read An Empty Cup? Rosanna Troyer may be an Amish woman, but she is no different than you and me. In fact, every week I receive numerous emails or messages from people who are definitely not Amish but say, “I am Rosanna.” Unfortunately, *I* beg to differ because *I* am Rosanna.

No wait… ALL of us are Rosanna.

You see, Rosanna’s family is dysfunctional, too. And she suffers from depression because of it. Does that sound familiar?

My family is dysfunctional. We are not unique, but very few people actually admit that their family is dysfunctional. So I will admit it. It has been dysfunctional for a long, long time and, frankly, my family is no different than most families. People try to hide their dysfunctionalism, pretending that they have a perfect family while everyone else’s suffers. But the truth is that I highly doubt ANY family doesn’t have some dysfunctional quirks to it.

In The Faded Photo, Frances Snyder is just like Rosanna Troyer in that regard. She, too, has a very dysfunctional family. But everyone moves around as if things are just peachey-keen. And then something happens: Frances is diagnosed with breast cancer.

Anyone who has been diagnosed with a major illness will probably relate to this. When I was diagnosed, I did my best to make certain that life went on as normal as possible. Some people really went out of their way to support me. I truly learned who my real friends are, that’s for sure and certain. But a few people surprised me with their complete lack of private support while publicly claiming to be the most supportive of all.

Now, imagine that no one supports you during such an illness. What if everyone was so completely self-absorbed that they didn’t even notice you were sick at all?!!

Sounds a little like Rosanna with her depression. No one noticed it. At least not until they could no longer deny it anymore. That’s the same situation with Frances.

So you see, The Faded Photo is very similar to An Empty Cup. The main difference is that Frances Snyder doesn’t wear a prayer kapp and she drives a car. But she faces the same problems that most of us–including Rosanna Troyer–face: issues with family and overcoming feeling invisible to others.

Now, the good news. Waterfall Press has a great end-of-summer sale on The Faded Photo. The Kindle Version is $1.99 until the end of the month.

Don’t have a Kindle? No problem. You can read it on your laptop using their free eReader or purchase the paperback version for $7.24. And if you prefer using the library, ask them to order it for you. And, if you love audio books, it is available in CD format or for audible.com.

I look forward to reading your reviews on the book.

The post Best Kept Secret (Apparently) of August 2017 appeared first on Sarah Price.

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Last week, I received a letter from a young fan and wanted to share it. I LOVE getting feedback from YOU, my loyal readers!

Dear Sarah Price:

I recently read your retold novel of Jane Austen, entitled ‘Sense and Sensibility.’ These were my genuine thoughts:

Having been acquainted with first-rate writer Jane Austen’s literary works as well as her unrecognized compositions, ‘Lady Susan’; ‘The Watsons’; fragmentary draft, ‘The Sandition’ – all splendid, exceptional and one-of-a-kind work of art and heart. Thus, it’s always been a challenge and a frightening attempt to retell such marvelously crafted works like of Jane Austen. Yet, you did an exemplary iterated novel!

I love everything about the novel – the few adapted words of your native language (for I’ve discover, a little, about certain foreign words); the Amish tongue; the dazzling book cover; the bearable and eloquence narration (which, I think, the one that regarded you as a best-selling Author of the Amish of Lancaster Series).

I consider some of my beliefs in conformity with Classicism. Thus, I’m a bit exasperated and find the storyline overdramatic and ‘out of line,’ just as like as the old ‘Sense and Sensibility.’ But after finishing the novel, I found myself in a sliding slope towards Romanticism. I’m delighted and became hasty of reading in consequence of my profound interest and curiosity to the whole context of the novel I’m absolutely enamored especially to the last chapter; my eyes were weeping of joy. Just simply persuading and absolutely clever adaptation! I love the new flavours you spattered into the pure water. Having been raised in a religious country, I felt cheerful with the laid down bible verses; it’s was like reading a bible but distinct in approach.

I read a little about your biography and saw all your published novels, and definitely looking forward reading those! I wish you good health, for you to write more and set more readers’ brushfires alight.

Have you read Sense and Sensibility? Let me know in the comments if you have and your thoughts about it!

The post A Compliment from a Young Reader appeared first on Sarah Price.

No one wants to hear that they have breast cancer. It was four years ago this month when I underwent my double mastectomy, the beginning of an 18-month battle with recovery. For me, it wasn’t the breast cancer that almost killed me; it was the reconstruction.

I approached breast cancer with an “it is what it is” attitude. I remained up-beat and positive, despite the multiple hospital stays, far too many surgeries, blood transfusions, excessive pain, and daily IV antibiotic treatments. But there was a lot of collateral damage.

Personally, I believe that people “closest” to me forgot that I was battling for my life. Without doubt, had I not caught my breast cancer, I would be dead today. My tumor which I was told was “caught early” had actually spread to lymph nodes and grown into my chest wall. My surgeon did not get a clean margin. And then I almost died from infections, underwent the removal of my reconstructed breasts, and so many other awful things that I think I’ve blocked some of it out.

There is a lot of psychological damage to undergoing such treatment. Emotional upheavals that impact your self-esteem. You feel ugly, unfeminine, weak, damaged. But the rest of the world continues and, likewise, the rest of the world expects you to continue, too.

I had a lot of support from some family members and a lot of of support from my friends and readers. However, if you ask some people, they would claim they were “there” for me and my kids (they weren’t). Inviting my kids to the pool or yelling at them at Halloween because they didn’t feel like trick-or-treating with other kids was not being “there” for my children. Both of my kids needed someone to spend one-on-one time with them, to help them through the emotional upheaval that they were feeling. Their fears. Not going to a pool, for crying out loud.

There was so much insensitivity to what was going on in my world that it was truly disturbing. I suppose that goes with the whole entitlement trend: if it’s not about me then I simply don’t care.

People often ask me if The Faded Photo was about my experience with breast cancer. I used to answer “No.” However, in hindsight, there is a very strong element of truth to the story. While my husband, my parents, and my good friends were there for me, there were few others who were.

The Faded Photo shares that perspective of my experience, how oblivious people can be to what is going on in other people’s lives. And when some people confront the truth, others react with shock because it’s simply not “politically correct” to do so.

Says who?

Says the people who avoid the truth because it is inconveniently not about them.

The following excerpt from the book is a perfect example of this. Consider the way that Frances’s mother reacts when Frances blatantly asks Mrs. Bentley about her disease. That, my friends, is the framework for the story…the very foundation on which Frances deals with her own illness years later.

The fresh layer of snow— something that usually excited Frances more than anything— did nothing to cover up the fact that she would have to sit in an old-fashioned red sleigh next to a dying woman.

“Why me?” Frances turned from the window as her mother hovered over her, about to brush her brown hair. “No one else has to go!”

“Never ask ‘why me.’ You know I don’t like that. Sometimes in life you just have to do what you have to do. Besides, you don’t know the plans God has for you. Or for others, for that matter.” Her mother jerked the brush a little too roughly through a knot at the nape of Frances’s neck. “And what is with all of these questions? Why didn’t you wear your Mary Janes? I specifically told you to put them on.”

Frances winced as another knot was attacked by her mother’s the nape of Frances’s neck. “And what is with all of these questions? Why didn’t you wear your Mary Janes? I specifically told you to put them on.”

Frances winced as another knot was attacked by her mother’s swift hand. “I hate Mary Janes. They’re stupid-looking and too big anyway.”

Her mother took a step backward and glared at her in the mirror. “You’ll grow into them, Frances. Now, enough complaining out of you.” Her mother leaned forward and turned on the water faucet, dampening the brush, which made it smell bad.

Wrinkling her nose, Frances leaned away from her mother. “I just don’t understand why I have to go!”

“She’s dying, Frances, and you know how much she loves you!” Her mother tried to slick down the cowlick at Frances’s crown. “It’s just one photo, probably the last one we’ll have of her.”

“I don’t want to be in a photo with a dead person!” The thought had terrified Frances from the moment her mother had come up with the idea the previous week.

“Oh, stop it! She’s dying, not dead. How would it appear to other people if you denied her this last wish? You know she has no children of her own.” Tossing the damp, smelly hairbrush into the sink, her mother stood back and assessed the finished product with a half-pleased expression. “You look well enough, I suppose.”

Frances made a face that did not go unnoticed.

“Honestly, have some compassion, Frances Lynn! Imagine how scared she must feel, poor Mrs. Bentley!”

But Frances didn’t want to imagine how their neighbor felt. All Frances could imagine was having to stand in the freezing cold— something she hated more than anything!— for a photographer to take what might be the last photo of Mrs. Bentley for a Christmas card. And why, Frances wondered, would Mrs. Bentley want a photo with me, anyway?

The battle with her mother ended even before it began. At nine years of age, Frances couldn’t possibly win, not against an adult, let alone her mother, who, it seemed, always won, regardless of the opponent.

Her mother glanced at the clock and made a noise of exasperation. “Let’s hurry it up, Frances. I have a lot to do this afternoon. You know how your father likes his Saturday night pot roast promptly at five o’clock.”

As soon as her mother invoked the father card, Frances knew better than to dawdle any longer. If her mother lived for social appearances, her other focus in life was catering to her husband.

And so, at eleven o’clock on a Saturday morning, Frances found herself sitting in the red wooden sleigh, her stuffed elephant tucked under her arm, trying to smile as she inched away from Mrs. Bentley, just in case whatever the woman was dying of was something that she could catch.

It was cold out, and the ground was now covered with at least two inches of snow. Even though she wore her blue coat and tan knit hat, Frances was freezing from all of the sitting around while everything was made “just right.”

“Closer, dear,” the photographer said, gesturing with his hand for Frances to move into Mrs. Bentley’s arm that was wrapped around her. The elephant fell out of the sleigh, and as Frances moved to retrieve it, the photographer stopped her. “Perhaps you should stand next to her.”

Glancing at her stuffed animal that lay in the snow, Frances sighed and stood up, hoping that her mother wouldn’t step on it.

The photographer smiled. “Much better.”

But Frances did not feel much better. In fact, she felt much worse.

Mrs. Bentley, however, did not seem to notice. At forty-two, she was still pretty. Frances liked her short black hair that framed her face. With her dark winter coat and red hat that sat just so on the back of her head, Mrs. Bentley did not look sick and, therefore, did not look like she was dying.

And that’s when Frances did the unimaginable: she spoke without thinking.

“Mom says you are dying.”

The second she heard her mother gasp, Frances knew that she was in trouble. But the words were out there; she couldn’t take them back. Besides, she argued with herself, Mom did say that!

Mrs. Bentley, however, didn’t seem to mind. She merely hugged Frances closer against her side and kissed the top of her head. “Aw, sweet Frances! How I love your honesty. It’s so refreshing to have someone say what they are truly thinking! It’s so much better than all of the whispers, side looks, and pity. I’d much rather people ask me what’s on their mind than tiptoe around the subject. It’s better than being seen as a pity case.”

In Frances’s mind, Mrs. Bentley’s words vindicated her. To her further satisfaction, her mother had been unknowingly implicated by Mrs. Bentley.

“I have cancer, Frances.”

“Cancer?” It was an unfamiliar word to her, and once again, she wondered if that was anything like a bad cold. She leaned away, just a little, and hoped that her mother didn’t notice.

“It’s a bad disease when your body starts fighting against itself. No one really knows how it starts. And the cure for it depends on the type of cancer and how long a person has had it before discovering it.”

“What type do you have?”

“Breast. It started in my breasts,” Mrs. Bentley said, gently placing her hand on her chest. “But now it has spread to other places in my body.”

“So cancer is going to make you die?” Frances asked.

Her mother gave her a stern look. “Frances!”

But Mrs. Bentley didn’t seem to mind. “It is, Frances.”

“Are you scared?”

“Frances!” her mother said in a sharp tone. “That’s enough!”

But Mrs. Bentley ignored her mother’s reprimand. Instead, a smile spread across her face as she responded to Frances. “Am I scared? No. Not in the least. Crying about it or being sad will not change the fact that God wants me home, my dear child. My time on earth is finished. I have a much greater future ahead of me.”

Frances did not know how to respond. If she had cancer, she knew she would be scared. And she certainly would not be taking photographs in a sleigh while it was snowing with a child that lived down the street! But Mrs. Bentley didn’t have any children of her own, a fact that had made Frances’s mother even more adamant that the photo shoot take place.

As she stood beside Mrs. Bentley, smiling for the photographer, she couldn’t help but think tha1-t life without having children was even sadder than the fact that Mrs. Bentley was dying. After all, what was the purpose of life if you didn’t have a family? Mrs. Bentley would die and be put into the ground without anyone to remember her years later. The memory of her life would fade away, probably by the time the first snow fell next winter. And by then, just as no one talked about Grammy or Grandpa anymore, no one would remember Mrs. Bentley or the silly photograph that she was posing for at the current moment.

“Smile now!” the photographer said.

Frances did as she was told, not just smiling but grinning for the photographer as she stood next to the dying woman in the old-fashioned red cutter sleigh for a Christmas card that no one would remember in years to come. The only thing Frances would remember about that day was that the ground was covered by snow and that she hoped, later, her father might take her sleigh riding.

The post An Excerpt from The Faded Photo appeared first on Sarah Price.

What inspired The Faded Photo?

I shared this story on Facebook the other day and thought I’d share it here, too.

Many people have asked why I wrote The Faded Photo and what inspired me. I’ll address the first question in another blog. For now, I want to answer the second one.

What inspired me to write this book? A book that is a new genre and totally outside of my comfort zone?

The answer is this photo.

Yes. That little peanut is me. To my right is my mother and to my left, seated in the carriage, is a woman named Mrs. Balentine. I have no idea what her first name was.

This photo was taken around 1973 or 74 (which blows my whole “Im 23 forever” claim…lol).

And this woman, for some reason, wanted to take her Christmas photo with us. Just me and my mom. I don’t know why. I never thought to ask. I do know that she never had any children of her own and she was a very happy, kind woman. I remember that clearly.

I also know that she died a few months later. You see, Mrs. Balentine had breast cancer and knew she was going to die.

It’s funny how people touch you in very different ways. Her husband later remarried and, I believe, is now deceased. I often wonder if anyone ever thinks about her. Did she have other family? Nieces and nephews that cared about her? Obviously not enough for her to want them in this photo so I doubt they did. They probably were like today’s youth…too self-absorbed to think about other people and what they were going through.

Maybe they turned their backs on her when she was down and out. Maybe she died alone with only her husband to comfort her. Maybe she was misunderstood or forgotten by friends and family who were too busy with their own lives to spend any time on a woman who, at the time, had a disease that was more often than not terminal from the diagnosis.

Maybe…

That’s where I get my ideas. From the maybes. Ironically, the maybes are often so connected with us. I never realized that I relate to Mrs. Balentine on many different levels. Maybe, to some degree, we all do. I’m just happy to know that, forty+ years ago, a little girl in a funny outfit was able to bring a smile to her face when other people were not there to do so.

I remember you, Mrs. Balentine. And now all of my readers will, too.

The post What Inspired The Faded Photo? appeared first on Sarah Price.

Tomorrow, after 12:01am, several thousand people will wake up to find my latest novel, The Faded Photo, on their Kindle devices, just waiting to be read.

Or devoured.

I hope it’s the latter.

The Faded Photo is my first women’s fiction novel and the subject matter is near and dear to my heart (pun not intended). You see, it’s about breast cancer. And while I pull on my own experience battling breast cancer, the book is not about me.

Or is it?

In hindsight, I have to reconsider that statement. You see, there are aspects of Frances Snyder in all of our lives. The story may not parallel my adventure, but there are emotions and feelings that certainly do. And I believe that will be true for all of you, too.

Regardless of whether or not you have personally experienced breast cancer, you certainly have experienced the strain of being a daughter, wife, and/or mother during trying times. There are certain expectations of us, roles that we have to play…or think we have to play. Quite often, we sacrifice so much of ourselves in order to support our families that we become lost along the way.

If you haven’t preordered The Faded Photo, I hope you consider doing so. It’s available in Kindle, Print, and Audio. And if you need a little more encouragement, I’ve attached the PROLOGUE with the actual faded photo that inspired this novel.

Enjoy!

S.P.

The post The Faded Photo: Available May 16! appeared first on Sarah Price.