Tugging Heartstrings

By Courtney Pierce

I can tell when an author has personal experience with the pain and conflict they write about. I dive into a book—my own or someone else’s—with a load of cargo that sticks and prickles in my skin like emotional Velcro. Experiences with love, loss, betrayal, divorce, and death give us fuel to connect with like-minded characters. That’s why I pump my protagonists full of emotions based on my own experiences. And I have an animal (usually a dog or cat) in the mix to act as the lightning rod of sensitivity.

Animals react with all their senses. They perk their ears to listen, sniff the air for trouble, hood their eyes in anger, and make all kinds of noises as if they’re having a conversation. The droop of a dog’s tail in disappointment squeezes my heart. A vigorous wag of loyalty makes me smile. These gestures only magnify the sentiment at the center of a story.

What really draws me like a magnet is the moment when a character falls in love, especially if the hook-up is unexpected. It can be a world-rocker if the character has been previously hurt to their core. The world opens with the ability to trust after having been betrayed. Promises of “I’ll never ever do that to you” and “Shhh . . . just hold me” hint that anything’s possible.

In turn, when a character unexpectedly loses the love of their life through no fault of their own, I can be reduced to tears. My mind races to all the words that will never be said. Their hopes and dreams won’t be fulfilled. The pain of ripped separation is sometimes more than I can bear. .. . but I keep reading.

Heartstrings get plucked by the simplest of things—a glance, a snub, an unfair snark. Insecurities ignite a whole host of emotions. Dialogue can be only a word or two to start a rapid heartbeat. That moment comes exactly at the 50% mark in my latest book Indigo Legacy. When my character, widow Olivia Novack, spills her insecurities to Woody, her fiancé, in a chapter titled The Conversation, the history of her former 32-year marriage comes out. This glimpse of dialogue took an inordinate amount of time to get the exchange just right. I didn’t have to dig too deep within myself to strike oil.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Adam was the only man I’d ever been with, besides you,” Olivia said.

“Seriously?” Woody said.

She threw him a sideways glance. “Okay, let’s qualify that. A real relationship, not relations I had before Adam. College doesn’t count.”

Woody nodded. “An important technicality. Keep going. Nothing you’ve said, so far, spooks me.”

“I made a terrible, unforgivable mistake with Adam. The worst kind.”

“Did you have an affair?”

“God no. Worse.”

“What then?”

The question hovered for a few seconds as Olivia’s chest tightened. “I took him for granted. Assumed he’d always be there. We became a pair of old shoes, like the ones you keep around because they were your favorites once. It had become solid-gold boredom. After Adam died, I regretted every wasted day that I didn’t touch him, didn’t say that I loved him, or didn’t whisper a sexy surprise in his ear.” She turned and met the endless blue in Woody’s eyes. They were glass. “He didn’t do any of those things for me, either. I was slowly starving to death, and I didn’t know why. I would’ve thanked the stars if he’d ever come up behind me and nuzzled my neck for no reason, turned off the stove and planted a kiss on me, held me just because, or left me a note as a reminder that he loved me. But he didn’t. I was so lonely in his company, and anything I tried ended up making me more frustrated. You won’t waste any days, will you?”

“No, Liv, I won’t. I’m so sorry.”

“You asked for full disclosure, so I’m giving it to you. Little gestures mean everything to keep a long-standing marriage from disintegrating. I love it when your eyes tell me a secret from across a room, one only we know between us. My emotional clock resets when you grab my hand and say, ‘Let’s go.’ The cop and perp stuff we played in New York was amazing. Almost like sex . . . almost.” She dabbed the outer corners of her eyes. “I love you whether you do that stuff or not.” She glanced at him. “But it would be better if we both promised to make the investment.”

Woody pulled her forward to a hungry kiss. He ate her up like in a pie-eating contest, and then pulled away. “I take it back,” he said. “You are a romantic, and you’re doing a lousy job of trying to talk me out of marriage.”

She took his cue to lighten the mood. Deep-dish conversation required small spoons. “Then here’s a request for you after we’re married . . . ”

Woody spread his hands. “Give me all you’ve got.”

“No show-off burping. Guys do that.” Olivia tried, without success, to not smirk. “And sports on TV can’t be an all-day affair.”

From the glint in his eyes, the baton had been passed. “We have to watch the Olympics, Liv—nonnegotiable—summer and winter. I promise to burp super quietly only every two years.”

“Does that mean they’re loud the rest of the time?”

“Not around you.”

I love writing dialogue, the Yin and Yang unveils personal conflict and scrapiness. It's what characters say to each other - or to themselves - that touches my heart. And if I squeeze a balm of humor over the scene, it will all be okay. A huge revelation is delivered at the end of the above scene that sends the second half of the book into high gear. No spoilers.

And, yes, Olivia Novack gets her second chance at love, along with all those little gestures of affection she dreamed about . . . but I make her endure quite a bit of pain for the reward.

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Milwaukie, Oregon, with her husband. stepdaughter, and their brainiac cat, Princeton. Courtney writes for the baby boomer audience. By day, she is an executive in the entertainment industry and uses her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor and mystery. She has studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and She Writes. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal.

Audiobook now Available!

Check out all of Courtney's books: 

courtney-pierce.com and

windtreepress.com 

Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com.

Available Now!
Book 3 of the
Dushane Sisters
Trilogy

The Dushane Sisters Trilogy concludes with Indigo Legacy, available now. There's love in the air for Olivia and Woody, but will family intrigue get in the way? Ride along for the wild trip that starts in a New York auction house and peaks in a mansion on Boston's Beacon Hill. 

The Dushane sisters finally get to the truth about their mother.

New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."

It's That Time of Life

by Courtney Pierce

When I try to recall the best book that I read in 2018, I laughed out loud. I didn’t even finish one besides my own. Indigo Legacy took a full three years to complete, along with multiple read-throughs from both my editor and so many from me I stopped counting. But that doesn’t count, does it? Editing a novel is hard, hard work.

There were two books I attempted to read in order to give myself distance from my manuscript. Both were supremely disappointing: Mississippi Blood by Greg Iles and Origin by Dan Brown. I had a Missus-Bitchy-Face at every turn of the page. Greg Iles is one of my favorites, but a courtroom rehash of the first two books of a trilogy bored me to tears. I wanted to love this book, but it felt like a throw-away to keep Greg's publisher happy. In similar fashion, Dan Brown’s writing has gone downhill with the pressure to crank out a controversial story. Even at 200 pages into Dan Brown’s book, Origin, and I still didn’t know the "big discovery" that was teased in the Prologue. Give me the guts of the real problem upfront, and then play out the obstacles for finding the solution. Schlock. . . pure schlock.

Ugh…sorry guys, but I’m getting so picky. The new traditional publishing machine messed with my leisure reading. I’ve never not previously finished a book, but these two books made me shove them under the nightstand for an evening of staring at the ceiling. I can do better. I can write better.

I did read a fabulous non-fiction book about bears. Bears: Their Life and Behavior by Art Wolfe. It rung my chimes in a big way. His photography was second to none, and Mr. Wolfe captured the expressions, actions, and emotion that I wanted to embrace. I learned so much good stuff. After I read it for my research, I was so juiced to work on my new book that I couldn't stand it. My clairvoyant character has a spiritual communication with a grizzly. With a little Native American magical realism, I'm off and running with themes of aging, love, and reconciling the past. More on that later.

The “machine” of traditional publishing is being eclipsed by Indies, those of us who choose to own and control our work. We fearlessly defend the integrity of our stories and celebrate our ownership. We are so bonded with our characters that our readers, too, consider them part of their families.

I’m happy for this shift. My readers know who I am. I have a personal relationship with them, and I share the details of my life to these strangers who have become my friends. Could I ever imagine this with a traditional publisher who only cares about the dollar return for each press of the “Add to Cart” button?

I’m in this writing business for a different reason: I need to write the story ideas that I obsess over. I can’t not write them. I don’t really care about being famous and rich from my writing. That’s not why I do it. I write about what resonates inside of me. And if it connects with others who experience the same emotions, then Hallelujah! I love you guys. 

Fame and success are complicated topics. We authors want to make a living from the heart of what we do. However, many writers chase fame like a phantom in the night. They lunge for the next trend and hold a cup under the guillotine of an author who gets interviewed as Oprah’s “Book of the Year.” That doesn't personify most of the authors I know. I can’t bond with those who spend more money on their author photo than on what they spend on editing their book.

I write with private abandon and come up for air with fluttery eyelashes. Sometimes I have no idea what happened in the world while I was away in my fiction-crafted existence. A raw humor covers my discomfort at being public, but I do enjoy my anonymity when I want it. And when I’m done, my work will have a life of its own . . .  Equally as important is being a wife, a mother, a sister, and a daughter to a Mom who was at the center of three of my books.

I’m not unique, although my generation of Baby Boomers is quite singular in the way we think and feel. We still believe in so much possibility, no matter what our age. I’m that little girl of ten with too much experience, hurt, wisdom, pride, and work ethic. I’m that little girl who meets her obligations and strives for the moon. With a lasso, I will reach that goal of retirement where I can write full-time. Until then, everything that happens I’ll think of as life-fuel for stories, imagination, and the hope that what I write will connect with birds of my feather.

This weekend I will be transitioning my Mom into a senior living community, but before I leave I'll tell my twelve-year-old that eating junk has long-term consequences, My husband will keep the porch light burning for me when I get home on Sunday. After I arrive, he'll wrap me in his arms to fall asleep, only for us both to go to work on Monday. Not for too much longer, this work routine. But I will miss going by Mom's house every morning and evening, picking up her prescriptions, and receiving her daily hugs. It tears me up, really. But now she will be closer to my older sister, who is also getting ready to retire.

In the meantime, I write this article in an oh-so-quiet house with a glass of wine. Our cat, Princeton, is in my lap, purring away without a care in the world. The food dehydrator whirs to make dried fruit and veggies for my Mom and I to snack on while I drive her to her new home, a long four hours away. I'm not sure if the transition will be harder for her, me, my husband, my stepdaughter, or Princeton.

It's a five-way tie.

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Milwaukie, Oregon, with her husband. stepdaughter, and their brainiac cat, Princeton. Courtney writes for the baby boomer audience. By day, she is an executive in the entertainment industry and uses her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor and mystery. She has studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and She Writes. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal.

Audiobook now Available!

Check out all of Courtney's books: 

courtney-pierce.com and

windtreepress.com 

Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com.

Available Now!
Book 3 of the
Dushane Sisters
Trilogy

The Dushane Sisters Trilogy concludes with Indigo Legacy, available now. There's love in the air for Olivia and Woody, but will family intrigue get in the way? Ride along for the wild trip that starts in a New York auction house and peaks in a mansion on Boston's Beacon Hill. 

The Dushane sisters finally get to the truth about their mother.

New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."

The Long Journey of Imagination

By Courtney Pierce

On this wondrous Christmas Eve, like all Christmas Eves of my life, I reflect on where I am today and how I got here. A writer’s journey is a long one. In my case, stories burned from a very young age. I didn’t do anything about them, though, until I was over fifty. No one could show me how to be a writer; I could only be taught the craft of construction to make my stories compelling and readable. The ideas, though, were completely on my head—or in my head, so to speak.

This writing journey started with my being a mimic at the age of four or five, regurgitating up jingles from commercials and imitating the talking heads on newscasts. If I say so myself, I did a pretty good Walter Cronkite with my version of "Now for the news..." I’d dance around and sing the day's headlines for my Mom while she made dinner. When my Dad came home from work, I’d assault him at the door with my latest tune about Vietnam, the Marlboro Man, or Mao Zedong. Sometimes I’d snap my fingers with new words to the theme song from The Addams Family.

Jingles turned into stories. I’d spout out only a sentence or two that started with “What if this guy was a concert pianist and he had eyes on his fingers?” or “So there was a kid who had three ears, and one of them could hear things in outer space . . . ” And on it went.

My parents would just shake their heads and say, “Where does she come up with this stuff?”

As a baby boomer, I’m obsessed with analyzing those wondrous moments of youth, as if I could capture and bottle them. Now that I’m all grown up, I like to pull apart those emotions of puberty and young adulthood to see how they shaped the person I am today. Without a doubt, my spirit is still based on three major food groups: wishes, dreams, and being in love.

I’m still the same. Nothing has changed, except that the made-up stories are more intense when combined with colorful history and life experience.

Recently, my older sister and I were comparing notes about getting into trouble in middle school. I was a goody-two-shoes; she was a sneaky rebel. I distinctly remember one incident in 6^th grade where my teacher gave me detention for not paying attention in class—repeatedly. Mrs. Truesdale was her name. She was over 6-foot tall, intimidating, old, and a grump. And not only did she give me detention, she called my parents to come to the school for a gang-up meeting.

To be clear, my parents found this a loathsome chore, as if they, themselves, had also been ordered to squirm in detention. I was the meat in a double-trouble sandwich of Mrs. Truesdale and my parents. Here’s an annotated version of how the scoldy meeting went:

“Your daughter doesn’t pay attention in my class,” Mrs. Truesdale announced. She punctuated the statement by smacking her hand on the desk. “Courtney just stares out the window. I don’t know what to do with her.”

My father turned to me. “Is this true?”One of his vivid aqua eyes floated 45 degrees west of my right shoulder. Craziest thing that eye, but it was focused on me from somewhere over there.

“Yes,” I said and gnarled my fingers. Then I turned to the window. Slight shimmers of the fall maple leaves were much more interesting than this conversation.

My mother chimed in and pointed. “What’s out there?”

“I don’t know,” I said and shrugged. “All kinds of things.”

Mrs. Truesdale eased with an expression of triumph. “See? She doesn’t pay attention.”

My mother pinned Mrs. Truesdale with a scrutinizing stare. “But she gets As on all her tests. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“That’s the most frustrating part,” my teacher countered. “I never know if I’m getting through.”

Dad started laughing. “Join the club. Courtney's bored. You'll need to be more interesting or she's liable to break into song when you least expect it.”

Mom pursed her lips and stood. “I think we’re done here. Leave our daughter alone. She’s fine.”

Go Mom and Dad! I will forever thank them for coming to my defense. My parents saw something in me that my teacher didn’t. From then on, they never scoffed at my stories or jingles again.

Those moments of staring out the window became the fodder of future stories that would percolate for over forty years. The seeds of them were never dormant as I went to college, got married at twenty, became responsible, and nurtured a career. Then they sprung to life with the fuel of burning desire. When I finally learned how to turn my ideas into books, it was like starting over. My young-girl imagination blossomed again with the infusion of experience, wisdom, and education.

Every thought I had in my budding youth felt original and fresh, as if ideas had bubbled up from inside instead of coming from somewhere or someone else. I grew up without the crutch of electronic devices. A set of World Books and a library card gave me the ability to verify facts. The rest of my great wisdom came from Bugs Bunny, Gilligan’s Island, Bewitched, and I Dream of Jeannie. In the new world of Google, smartphones, NetFlix, and texts, I often wonder what the future holds for stories by writers who are growing up in this electronic age. Will young writers not be able to come up with anything on their own? 

I've heard it said that the older we get, the younger we grow.  I think that's all too true. Those confusing thoughts of my youth and hard knocks of adulthood eventually did give way to greater understanding, and along with it came confidence and self-respect. But make no mistake—imagination is hard work. It’s an investment in one’s self to mold who we are and shape the person we’ll become. And the reward is to turn creative thoughts into a book, a song, or a magnificent work of art.

And on this beautiful Christmas Eve at our home in Montana, the CrockPot releases the aroma of the self-managed beef stew. My stepdaughter works on a complicated puzzle at a card table. Next to me on the couch, my husband studies a detailed map of Glacier National Park to plan our next hike. Me? Well . . . my gaze pulls to the window. A light snowfall whirls on a breeze around the lights on the patio. Their dance is accompanied by the snap and pop inside the wood stove. The combination of ice and fire gives me dialogue ideas as I work on my next book, Big Sky Talk.

I wish you all a loving and safe holiday. I'll be back at you in the New Year with all kinds of new stuff!.

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Milwaukie, Oregon, with her husband. stepdaughter, and their brainiac cat, Princeton. Courtney writes for the baby boomer audience. By day, she is an executive in the entertainment industry and uses her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor and mystery. She has studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and She Writes. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal.

Audiobook now Available!

Check out all of Courtney's books: 

courtney-pierce.com and

windtreepress.com 

Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com.

Available Now!
Book 3 of the
Dushane Sisters
Trilogy

The Dushane Sisters Trilogy concludes with Indigo Legacy, available now. There's love in the air for Olivia and Woody, but will family intrigue get in the way? Ride along for the wild trip that starts in a New York auction house and peaks in a mansion on Boston's Beacon Hill. 

The Dushane sisters finally get to the truth about their mother.

New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."

Old Meets New Holiday Reads

by Courtney Pierce

A sign of the times. There are  two extremes of emotion driving my holiday reads this year. As a baby boomer, I like to brush the fur in the opposite direction on present-day issues while I bask in traditions from the past. Our ability to flex and bend, as well as be stalwart and righteous, are qualities unique to our generation. We’re sandwiched between the WWII work ethic of our parents and the go-go-go world of Millennials seeking to replace us. But the good news is that we boomers know how to shut down the computers, tablets, and cell phones to enjoy a good book.

So there are two books on my reading list for the holiday break. I want to immerse myself in poignant prose while I face the reality of today’s scary world. 

The first pick is an annual tradition: my 1866 antique edition of  Christmas Books by Charles Dickens, complete with tiny print and misplaced hyphens. Its Old-World aged paper crinkles with a turn of every fragile, double-columned page. The aroma of aged wood pulp draws me like treasures stacked in the back room of a used book shop. I can practically hear the delicate bell on the door as I reach for this book on the shelf.

This book contains five stories: A Christmas Carol, The Chimes, The Cricket on the Hearth, The Battle of Life, and The Haunted Man. Several ghosts, a goblin, a fairy tale, and a love story. By today’s standards, the lengthy descriptions of detail are overdone, the paragraphs too long, and the text minuscule. But this kind of prose reminds me to slow down to appreciate every colorful word. Too often in a book, I race through the color to get to the point.

All five of these novellas carry a theme of redemption. The reconciliation of one’s inner soul must have been a conflict for Dickens himself, and everyone in merry ole’ England, because the stories struck a chord with the public. Guilt is one powerful, crippling emotion. I love to read these stories, though, as a thermometer for how well I’m doing in that department. I help others . . . check. I’m never mean-spirited . . .  check. I’m charitable . . . check. I love and respect my husband . . . check.

Dickens was a master craftsman of emotion. What I love most is that he awarded each character—even the minor ones—with the perfect name to define their personality. The stories are punctuated with names like Ebenezer Scrooge, the miser of A Christmas Carol, and John Peerybingle, a slow, lumbering, but honest man from The Cricket and the Hearth. Then there’s Dr. Jeddler, the elderly philosopher who looks at the world as one enormous practical joke in The Battle of Life. And finally, The Haunted Man describes an eerily gloomy vision of Mr. Redlaw, a chemist surrounded by his drugs, instruments, and books.

These stories are still fresh. They’re still relevant. People will never change their nature, no matter what the era.

From the nature of the heart comes the primal need to survive. My second holiday book is titled Sheep No More by Jonathan Gilliam. This is a hard-hitting book about attack survival. I’m not one to spout about politics or my personal beliefs, but I do feel increasingly unsafe. Don’t get me started on that . . . but I knew I couldn’t turn my back on a world that wants to strip me of freedom and liberty, and then ask me to pay for someone else to have it. The wake-up calls have been constant on multiple levels: on the ground, in the air, and through my computer.

What I look forward to embracing in this book is the power of one. My husband and I want to control our own destiny. We don’t want to wring our hands and whine that the government isn’t taking care of us in an emergency. There are things we can do as individuals to keep ourselves and family members safe. The first, and most important, asset is heightened awareness. I want to educate myself, and then tuck the information in my hair like bobby pins. I have to think of this next level of survival skill as when I learned to backpack in the mountains or hunt to fill the freezer. I don’t need to use these resources every day, but they’re there should I need them.

The last holiday read is my own book, delivered just under the wire. Indigo Legacy is now available after over two years of work to polish just the right ending to The Dushane Sisters Trilogy. Talk about making a book personal! Geez! Of course, I’ve read it so many times now that I must leave it in the hands of my readers. It still makes me laugh out loud and reduces me to tears. The story takes place during the holidays, so Indigo Legacy is a legal holiday read. And like Dickens, it's filled with betrayal, guilt, loss, gain, love, and best of all . . . redemption.

Happy and safe holidays to you all!

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Milwaukie, Oregon, with her husband. stepdaughter, and their brainiac cat, Princeton. Courtney writes for the baby boomer audience. By day, she is an executive in the entertainment industry and uses her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor and mystery. She has studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and She Writes. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal. 

Check out all of Courtney's books: 

courtney-pierce.com and

windtreepress.com 

Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com.

Available Now!
Book 3 of the
Dushane Sisters
Trilogy

The Dushane Sisters Trilogy concludes with Indigo Legacy, available now. There's love in the air for Olivia and Woody, but will family intrigue get in the way? Ride along for the wild trip that starts in a New York auction house and peaks in a mansion on Boston's Beacon Hill. 

The Dushane sisters finally get to the truth about their mother.

New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."