Writer Wednesday – Wolfpack Publishing

Writer Wednesday – Wolfpack Publishing

Everyone’s doing boxed sets this year, several books bound together with one low, low price. This phenomenon has usually been in the romance world – sweet romances, country romances, sexy romances, gothic – well, you get my point.

wolfpack dadNow, just in time for Father’s Day, Wolfpack Publishing has come out with a Western Boxed Set. Some authors you may know include Kat Martin, L.J. Martin, and Chet Cunningham (yes, my dad). So I’m VERY excited to share this with you.

Spread the word, grab the boxed set for your dad’s Kindle, and make my day.  Here’s the blurb for it:

NEW RELEASE SPECIAL $1.99 FOR A LIMITED TIME! 9 full length Western novels from America’s premier western writers – Western Writers of America Spur Award winners and runners up, NYT best selling authors. Frank Roderus, Robert Vaughn, Gary McCarthy, Chet Cunningham, Douglas Hirt, Kat Martin, L.J. Martin, Cliff Hudgins & Thom Nicholson. Over 650,000 words of fine western writing. Action, Adventure, Romance at its very best!”

This includes my dad’s book WADE’S WAR. So you see, you REALLY need to pick this up!

)O(

Thanks for dropping by! Who’s your favorite Western writer?

In the Garden – The First Tomatoes

In the Garden – The First Tomatoes

This was two years ago - an amazing amount of yummy tomatoes! July 2012.

This was two years ago – an amazing amount of yummy Roma tomatoes in my Dad’s garden. July 2012.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of eating the first ripe tomatoes of the season. It’s one of the reasons I like to buy cherry, or patio, tomatoes (not the same thing but they both ripen early).

I carried in two cherry tomatoes and gave one to my husband, and we munched. Tomato flavor burst over my tongue, titillated my taste buds, and met all my expectations. It was a total Tomato Mouthgasm. Summer is almost here, and I don’t have to buy tomatoes from the grocery store any more! Life is saWeet!

My next foray into tomatodom yesterday

What I'm looking forward to this summer!

What I’m looking forward to this summer! (This is the first bowlful from last summer.)

was tasting the first ripe Roma tomato from our bush. It was a tiny thing, but I split it into two and gave hubby the bigger half. Popped mine into my mouth. And all of a sudden, I was in Rome – I swear. And I could taste the garlic in the tomato. It had a flavor I’ve NEVER tasted in a Roma tomato, whether home grown or at the grocery store – but it had my mouth salivating for Italian food at six-something in the morning. Suddenly I understood why you should use Romas when making an Italian Gravy (or spaghetti sauce) or any Italian recipe that calls for tomatoes.

I guess you could say I had a tomato epiphany. I have seen the light when it comes to tomatoes, more so this week than any other. I am now eyeing the spot remaining, just big enough to take three more tomato plants. Romas, I think. And I’m pretty sure the hubby will agree with me.

)O(

Are you gardening this year? Let’s chat!

A “Real” Writer?

A “Real” Writer?

Scott and Christine, San Diego 1982 Photo by Chet Cunningham

Scott and Christine, San Diego 1982 Photo by Chet Cunningham – all “real” writers.

It’s come up more than a few times lately, with more than a few of my friends. What is a “real” writer? When do I get to that point? When does it all just flow?  Well, in the 13-plus years I’ve been writing, this is what I’ve come to know about being a “real” writer.

So Much Noise.

A real writer writes. They hide in their cave/laundry room/nearest coffee shop and write.

A real writer only writes on Wednesdays.

A real writer writes five thousand words a day when it goes well. Other times it’s like pulling teeth to get five hundred words done.

A real writer only writes when the muse strikes.

A real writer complains. They talk to like-minded writer friends about their hopes, dreams, and fears for the current manuscript, and no matter what, they go back to that manuscript until that sucker is done.

A real writer feels like a fraud, and when they do write a book that sells, they’re secretly afraid they’ll never be able to repeat it.

A real writer dives into each novel without planning, never knowing what’s going to come out.

A real writer gets to go on author tours and talk to kids about their middle grade books,

and opens minds and changes hearts while on said tour.

A real writer has Hollywood knocking on their door constantly.

A real writer does it all – writes, edits, designs covers, reviews books, formats books, and puts books out all by themselves. All the time.

A real writer never gets screwed by her agent/editor/publishing house.

A real writer has discussions with his agent/editor/critique partner about what’s just not working about the current book, and how to make it better.

A real writer doesn’t make good money.

A real writer plots meticulously before starting a new book.

A real writer gets reviews wherever reviews can be posted. Some are glowing. Some are not. Sometimes it looks like the person reviewing never read the book. Sometimes there aren’t many reviews, and the writer’s heart bleeds for that book.

A real writer has written books that will never see the light of day. Conversely, a real writer publishes everything they’ve ever written.

A real writer makes serious money.

A real writer only writes and pushes his wares to real publishers. Big five or nothing, baby.

Market market market. Twitter and FB and Instagram and Goodreads until you die. It’s the only way to make an impression.

A real writer can only write one good book a year.

A real writer refills the well when life hits hard, and puts the writing aside until the storm has passed (because it always passes).

A real writer can write a good book every month.

A real writer only writes for the intelligentsia.

A real writer writes no matter what’s going on in his life – death, birth, hurricanes or earthquakes, they’re writing.

A real writer gets agents and editors excited about their work.

A real writer writes every fucking day because there is no muse and the bills need to get paid.

And Then…

A real writer eventually learns that there is no correct way to be a real writer, and that what works for one person just won’t work for another. There are as many different roads to Publishing Nirvana as there are people trying to get there.

What is very interesting, is there are a LOT of people out there who want you to buy THEIR way to get to Publishing Nirvana, because THEIR way is the ONLY way. To which I call bullshit – be very wary of ANYONE who says their way is the only way to do anything, especially anything to do with writing. One size does not fit all, and these folks are preying on artists (because writers aren’t the only ones who get scammed in this manner).

So, to all you real writers out there, wherever you are on the writer’s journey, know you aren’t alone. What makes the journey worth while, for me at least, are the other writers/agents/editors we surround ourselves with, and the readers we reach with our words. You CAN do this. You CAN make this into your dream career.

Every writing career is a roller coaster. Sometimes it seems like we’re in free fall; other times it feels like getting to the top is taking forever. What is irritating and fascinating is that no two writers are on the same roller coaster.

Writers, musicians, artists of all kinds, actors, singers, dancers – the arts help to put the world around us into perspective for those who aren’t artists. It’s a gift, an obligation, for us to work on our art.

What is a “real” writer? One who doesn’t quit.

Chet Cunningham, June 2011. 325+ novels out and counting. He's as real as it gets.

Chet Cunningham, 325+ novels out and counting. He’s as real as it gets.

)O(

Go out into the world, dear hearts, be brave, and write. Paint. Sing. Film. Dance. And do it with your whole heart. Sending love and hugs to you.

Oh, and check out the writers depicted above. If you know a real writer, please give them a shout out by putting a link to their Amazon page in the comments.

Thanks!

The Weight of Memories

The Weight of Memories

San Diego

I visited my dad on Saturday. Our visits tend to be short – not because we run out of things to say to each other (two writers talking? Never short of words!) but rather that he gets tired and I’m way sensitive to it, even when he’d rather I wasn’t. At 84, though, he’s allowed to get tired.

We did the usual things. Took a garden tour and liberated several Meyer lemons from his famous tree, and also got quite a few white grapefruit. I had printed a couple family photos, so I helped him put those into frames. And then came picture time.

late 1800's photo album

late 1800’s photo album

 

My Great Grandma Mary Eva (Meva) Burritt Jones Cunningham and Walter Jones, her first son by her first husband. Up in the corner is Sanford Jones, her first husband.

My Great Grandma Mary Eva (Meva) Burritt Jones Cunningham and Walter Jones, her first son by her first husband. Up in the corner is Sanford Jones, her first husband.

He’s been having me go through boxes of photos, to see what I’d like to keep.  I found several, and then I found the big box. Full of one book and several journals. My Grandmother Hazel’s journals. That just added to all the memories I’d collected that day.

My Aunt Amy, me, and Grandma Hazel Cunningham. Amy and Hazel were sisters.

My Aunt Amy Zedicher Whitmore, me, and Grandma Hazel Zedicher Cunningham. Amy and Hazel were sisters. 1988, Los Angeles, CA

With total permission, I lugged the box to my car and panted, doing so. (I’d added my photos from the batch I’d gone through earlier.) So many photos. So many memories.

Then I came across some photos of Scott. Here are two of my favorites.

Scott Cunningham, at the piano - 1975 or 1976 - not sure (photo undated).

Scott Cunningham, at the piano – 1975 or 1976 – not sure (photo undated). Sorry it’s blurry – it’s a photo of a photo. =(

And this one…

Scott and me at about 6 months pregnant - June? 1990

Scott and me, when I’m about 5 or 6 months pregnant = May or June, 1990

Carrying the box to my car, I strained under the load. It was a long, old fashioned cardboard file box, and it was full. My dad hovered as I carried it.

“You okay? You don’t need help? Looks heavy,” he said.

I smiled at him. “Memories carry weight,” I answered.

He nodded. “There must be at least fifty years of memories in there.” He was referring to his mother’s daily journals, I know. In those, she poured out everything but in such sparing details, which is a blog post for another day.

But as I loaded the box in the car, I noticed he stood a little taller. “You’re officially the family historian,” he said to me.

And it looked like a bit of weight had come off his shoulders.

Happy to help, Daddy. Any time.

Dad's first computer, a Trash 80 (TRS 80) 1983. He was definitely an early adopter.

Dad’s first computer, a Trash 80 (TRS 80) 1983. He was definitely an early adopter.

Happy Monday, my friends. What memories do you carry, that have more weight than maybe  you want?

)O(

Back to the Barre – January

Back to the Barre – January

It’s a slow journey. This month started out well – the first two weeks, I only took Monday off. The next two weeks were intermittent – sickness in the house. Nothing major for me except weariness and a determination to sleep as long as I could. Difficult when I need to get up and out the door by 6 in order to get my workout in (AND breakfast, AND shower/dress) before I had to leave for work.

Difficult, also, when I’m changing my eating habits. Trying to eat before seven at night (difficult when there are times I don’t get home until seven).  Cutting out sugar (this was surprisingly easy – yes, even the alcohol, though I make allowances now and then). Cutting out dairy (not so easy) and wheat for a couple of weeks (this was interesting – I don’t miss it, but I realize now how much I reach for the pasta when I don’t know what else to make for dinner). Oh yeah, and getting at least 7 to 9 hours of sleep each night.

I’m hoping I’ll look like this again soon.

Christine, at the "new" house in 1985. Photo by Tom Ashworth

Christine, at the “new” house in 1985. Photo by Tom Ashworth

But I’m pretty sure I’ll never look like this again. (See second photo, below. I can’t get the formatting right, sigh…)

Christine Ashworth, publicity still, 1978

Christine Ashworth, publicity still, 1978 – Photo by Chet Cunningham

I loved this tutu, though for the life of me I can’t remember which ballet this was from…this photo is from a shoot that my dad did for me, with California Ballet Company costumes and backdrop. I was bound and determined to audition for companies across the country, and in New Haven, Connecticut, I got my chance. I like to think this is one of the photos that helped me get my audition.

So, this journey I’m on is a see-saw. Back and forth, back and forth. But I’m happy to say I’m sleeping better, feeling better when I wake in the morning, and I’m slowly losing the pounds. I’m determined to go out of this life (years and years from now, mind you) still standing on my own two feet, dressing myself, caring for myself and my family. Not dependent on anyone but those I love, and them only for love and laughter, friendship and squishy hugs.

How’s your journey going?

)O(