Disaster Turned Blessing

By Courtney Pierce

A bountiful and delicious Thanksgiving ushered in a promising Christmas season. Let the games begin! Lights, wreaths, decorating, and a daily dose of Christmas movies.

My husband, stepdaughter, and I gladly handed over the $5.00 permit fee to cut our wild Christmas tree on Montana state land. Deal of the century. There’s a lot of shopping acreage here in the Kalispell area, so we bundled up for the hunt under a gentle mountain snowfall. The tree we found wasn’t all perfect by retail standards, but that’s what gave it infinite appeal. We even snagged a small one for my stepdaughter’s bedroom. No worries about having enough decorations. Collectively, my husband and I have an ornament count that spans over forty Christmas seasons. I guess that amounts to eighty Christmases worth of decorations. We selected the best of the best, and we still had an embarrassing excess.

Over the holiday, I had planned to make huge progress on my next book, BIG SKY TALK. I was nine chapters in and excited to pick up where I left off.

Then disaster struck. 

The hard drive in my mere seven-month-old laptop crashed with a bang. I couldn’t access any of my files, including the first nine chapters of my book-in-progress, never mind the manuscripts of my previous six books.

I got a windburn zooming to my local computer to a repair shop. Two days later, the news made my stomach drop to subzero. I needed a new hard drive, and nothing on it could be saved. The squeaky-clean new drive held none of my files. However, the tech gave me back my dead one with a glimmer of hope. He suggested that I contact a specialty data recovery company with more sophisticated equipment to attempt to find my files. Luckily, there was a reputable one in Missoula.

I know, I know. I can hear your voices chastising me for not backing up my files and documents for the last six months. I never had a problem before, so I had become complacent. Shame on me. And shame on Scrivener, my writing program, for switching from storing the proprietary files in the cloud to saving them on my hard drive. The company never informed me about the change in their process.

I should’ve figured that computers aren’t the work horses they used to be. They’ve gone the way of televisions and cell phones. Count on them lasting about a year ̶ or seven months in my case ̶ with more plastic parts to lower the price tag.

After a promising discussion of my situation with the data recovery company, I mailed off my blown hard drive and crossed my fingers. I resigned myself to the real possibility that I would need to start over with my novel. After all, my head held the story. No one could take that away from me.

Then something started to happen: I actually got excited about re-writing those first nine chapters. It was a chance to start fresh. In a quandary, I had written three different opening chapters and couldn’t decide which one worked best. I had nothing to lose by shaking out the Etch-A-Sketch.

Some writing coaches recommend chucking your first drafts in order to breathe new life into a blank page. And as painful as it can be, Stephen King recommends we should “kill our darlings.” First drafts are an indulgence of the author; second and third ones are for the readers.

Maybe there was a higher purpose for my data woes. But all those hours. All those outlines. And all those imaginative brain cells I had killed off. Was I being lazy? Was I trying to be a speed demon to make my own fake deadline? Possibly.

I sucked it up and started my book over while I waited to hear the verdict from the tech pros. The longer the silence loomed, the faster I wrote, convinced those draft chapters were lost. In the new ones, I incorporated more detail, evened out the flow, and cut what I thought was superfluous. The characters started to bloom with personality. My brain fired on all pistons with the freshness of it all. It was like going into a new job with oodles of direct experience. I made better decisions. I dug in with instinct, not superficial details. I let the characters lead me to bring them to life. All five senses came alive with vivid imagery. I didn't have to monitor the small stuff: the color of the protagonist's eyes, what kind of car she drove, or the style of her clothes. I was now creating living, breathing people.

As I dove into the new Chapter Four, my cell phone rang. The data recovery company calling, just like Avon.

“Good news, Courtney! Your data is 98% there,” the Tech said. "But it's going to take us about a week to extract it." 

“That’s great,” I said. "I hope my new manuscript isn't part of the 2% of roadkill. Is this going to cost me my first born child that I can't have at sixty?"

He laughed out loud. "This is a Level 2, so it'll be about $700."

Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled to get back my files, but my writing bubble deflated a bit, and not just about the price. The original drafts of those nine chapters sent my mind into a scramble. Sorting out all of the versions would be like re-installing the old toilet in a newly remodeled bathroom.

When I downloaded my Scrivner files, I created a new folder for those old chapters, but I don't think I'll open it. I'll keep going with the new version. That folder will only be a crutch in the event I get stuck.

And in the meantime, I'll enjoy the holiday with my original plan to spend the time with my family, go out for a snowshoe hike, target shoot to practice for next hunting season, and move forward writing BIG SKY TALK.

And I promise to back up my work at least once a week. The mega-capacity thumb drive I purchased should do the trick, along with the additional external hard drive my husband gave me. I’m also going to email myself the most important files as back-up to the back-up to back-up.

Happy Holidays to you all! Stay safe and warm, and I'll catch up with you in the New Year.

Photo: Micah Brooks

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Kalispell, Montana with her husband, stepdaughter, and their brainiac cat, Princeton. Courtney writes for the baby boomer audience. She spent 28 years as an executive in the entertainment industry and used her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor, and mystery. She 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.

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

Check out all of Courtney's books: 

courtney-pierce.com and windtreepress.com 

Audiobook now Available!

Available Now!
Book 3 of the
Dushane Sisters
Trilogy

Audio book coming soon!

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."

Coming in 2020!

When Aubrey Cenderon moves to Montana after the death of her father, the peace and quiet of Big Sky Country becomes complicated with a knock on the door from the sheriff. An injured grizzly bear is on the loose and must be eliminated before it kills again. The sheriff's insistence that she buy a gun for protection will present Aubrey with some serious soul-searching, because the grizzly-on-the-run is hunting for her too . . . for a different reason.

Art and Imagination

by Courtney Pierce

As far back as I can remember, maybe age four or five, a small oil painting hung in my grandparents’ living room. It portrayed a young boy dancing in the woods. The ornate gilt frame measured twice the size of the canvas. The boy wore rolled-up linen britches and a frilly linen shirt. His waist coat appeared to be soft. Tousled brown locks topped his exuberant feminine face, so life-like that he appeared to move.

I named him The Dancing Boy.

There was nothing for a young girl to do at my grandparents’ house. The tick and bong of a clock in the dining room cut through the quiet to mark the passage of every slow hour. My paternal grandmother was a fairly terse German woman who held on tight to every minute of her escape from WWII. Whenever I visited, I would plan my own escape by spending an inordinate amount of time staring at that painting, chased by my own imagination. I made-up all kinds of stories about that young dancing boy. What did the music sound like to inspire him to dance? Why were his bare toes so dirty when he’s wearing fancy clothes? Did he run away from home? Did he have to dance in secret because his parents were too strict? Who are the two shadowy adults in the background?

As I approached my late-teens, my questions focused om the painting itself. I broke through my fear of my grandmother to dig a bit deeper into its history. She told me it was created in the early 1800s and had been given to her as a gift by her employer after an elaborate remodel of a guest bedroom. In fact, most of the furniture in my grandparents' Georgetown home were cast-offs from that wealthy family. She also told me the painting had been a rescued section of a much larger piece that had been destroyed by fire. 

To me, that little cutaway had become its own work of art.

After my grandparents passed away, The Dancing Boy hung in my parents’ living room for over thirty years. My Dad requested I research how best to have it professionally cleaned and conserved. Decades of cigarette smoke had veiled the luminous skin tones, vivid details of the boy’s frock, and richness of the woodsy vegetation. I took the piece out of its heavy frame for any indication of the artist. Nothing. But I did discover it had been painted on wood, not canvas.

I took The Dancing Boy to the Portland Art Museum for a deeper inspection by the curator. My Mom freaked a bit, however, because she was convinced that The Dancing Boy had been stolen by the Nazis and didn’t want me to get busted. Geez, Mom! And I thought I had a vivid imagination.

The curator’s eyes lit up when I showed him the painting. Under the glow of lighted magnifying glasses, he made all sorts of noises: “hmmm . . . ahhh . . . mmm.” Then he raised his head and nearly blinded me before switching off his headgear. “As far as I can tell, it’s definitely Early American, around the Revolutionary War," he said. "But without an identifying signature, it’s hard to say who might’ve painted it. Whoever it was, they were damn good.”

“Damn good to know,” I said. 

Then my imagination started to race with more stories. Maybe Ben Franklin had been in the company of the original painting, or Washington, Adams, Hamilton, or Jefferson. I suddenly heard tankards clinking and the scratching of quilled words on the Declaration of Independence. That would certainly be cause for a budding young man to dance in the woods. The possibilities were endless. I packed up the painting and hung it back on my parents’ living room wall, my soul having grown ten times in size that day.

On Christmas morning of 2012, my parents came by the house for our traditional exchange of gifts. We had spend limits in place, so gifts were usually gag-like in nature. My Dad had been failing rapidly, and I knew he would only exist in my heart quite soon. I sat him on the couch in the living room and handed him a cup of coffee. He pointed to the front door.

“Go out to the truck and get that big box in the back.”

I did as I was told, of course. I had no idea what my parents had given me, but my pulse raced like a hummingbird's. I brought in the box and set it on the floor in front of my father.

“Go ahead and open it,” he said. “It’s for you, not me.”

And when I did, I broke into tears. He had given me The Dancing Boy. I didn’t know what to say, but my Dad did:

“It’s yours now, kid. I wanted to be able to see the look on your face before I’m dead.”

Dad. A steel-belted marshmallow.

It took only fifty years to come up with the ultimate story about The Dancing Boy. The painting became the subject of magical realism in my second novel of the Stitches Trilogy, Brushes. The three-book series—Stitches, Brushes, and Riffs—centers on a baby boomer couple, Jean and Spence Collins, who find a magical artifact at an estate sale. When they discover it holds the key to immortality, they set off on quite the world adventure, but not without getting into serious trouble with the FBI. It’s a bit like The Thin Man meets History Detectives—with a twist of magic.

I relived every wondrous moment of little-girl imagination when I wrote Brushes. And immortalizing The Dancing Boy forever on its printed pages means that I, too, have added to the painting's long history.

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.  

Coming Soon!
Book 3 of the
Dushane Sisters
Trilogy

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.

The Dushane Sisters Trilogy concludes with Indigo Legacy, due out in the fall, 2018. 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."

Magical Realism - My Immortal Journey

by Courtney Pierce

Sometimes it takes magic for characters–and their author–to appreciate the real. It can be a voyage and return of the highest order. What emerges from the experience is enlightenment and wisdom. In 2011, my first book, Stitches, became just such an endeavor. The magic of touch. Its magical realism and themes had me so hooked that I turned the story into a trilogy. Brushes and Riffs followed: transformation through art, and immortality born from music.

After abandoning a 20-year corporate career, my husband and I moved back to Oregon to care for my elderly parents and my younger sister, each in a full-blown health crisis. The trauma birthed a new venture: I became a writer.

The story of Stitches emerged from a year of wringing my hands and tapping on a laptop at three hospital bedsides. While not a normal environment for inspiration, out of the experience came an inspiring tale of a middle-age couple transitioning into life’s third act. They're stumped by what to do with the remainder of their lives after the drudge of nine to five. An innocent visit to an estate sale yields a fantastic find: an old chest. Inside a hidden compartment is an ancient piece of fabric that holds the key to immortality. The woven bird images come alive with stunning results. Attempts to rationalize the fabric’s magic plunge this couple deeper into its secrets, which sends them on a rollicking international quest for answers. History Detectives meets The Thin Man . . . with magic.

What I couldn’t fix in real life, I fixed in prose.

The books’ themes pose thought-provoking questions to the reader. If given the opportunity to become immortal at the end of your natural life, would you choose to exist for eternity? Or would you leave behind a legacy and allow death its due? Choices. Each has benefits and consequences. Over three books, my characters make their decision. 

Of course, the magic in the story is a metaphor, my literary attempt to keep my family intact with possibilities. As circumstances in real life became increasingly dire, my writing took a lighter and more fun turn. I threw aside my grief to ask no more of life than what if . . .

The genre of magical realism―the fantastic in a real world―is a powerful vehicle for addressing life’s challenges that are too overwhelming to rationalize. Magic transports us into the realm of wishes and dreams, and also presents us with trials and unfair circumstances to arm us with courage.

Halloween originated as a celebration of those who are immortal to us, even if for only one day. My mother and sister survived their ordeals, but my father did not. Dad's soul will live on inside the character of a softhearted, gruff FBI chief for eternity. And my soul will live on, too, for having re-created him on the page. That’s the real magic.

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Oregon with her husband of thirty-six years and bossy cat. She writes for baby boomers. Her novels are filled with heart, humor, and mystery. Courtney has studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. She is also a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and is active with Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and Sisters in Crime.

Colorful characters come alive in Courtney's latest novel, The Executrix. When three middle-age sisters find a manuscript for a murder mystery in their mother's safe after her death, the book gives them a whole new view of their mother. Is it fiction? . . . or truth? Sibling blood becomes thicker than baggage when Mom becomes larger in death than she was in life.

Visit Courtney's website at www.courtney-pierce.com. Her books can be purchased at Windtree Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo Books, and at several independent bookstores in the Portland area.

Shout Out for Charity

June 2015

by Courtney Pierce

As a baby boomer, I’ve maintained my idealistic view of the world and the belief that one person can initiate change for the good. It must be my combination of dogged determination and Peter Pan Syndrome. I blink, wide-eyed like a child, when we humans make bonehead moves that benefit the few and devastate the many. That makes no sense! What are we thinking?

Beneath the humorous and emotional prose in every one of my books lurks a theme of charity. Serious adult problems are met with an adolescent response and humor. My characters charge ahead, creating no end of trouble for themselves to reach a goal that benefits someone else. In my first trilogy series, Stitches, Brushes, and Riffs, a boomer couple unravels the question “What would you do today if you had the chance to be immortal at the end of natural life?” My characters make that decision over three books and – no spoilers – become inspired to make their mark on the world with a touch of magic. They accomplish their mission through what they love: art, music, and animals.

David Castillo Dominici

In my current series, The Executrix, three middle-age sisters stumble into their charitable aspirations after their mother dies. Each sister makes a mess of their benevolent path in their own way, but when they come together they’re unstoppable at honoring their mother’s memory, transforming an unruly poodle into a service dog, and helping an elderly mobster reconcile his life by writing his memoir. The fun continues in the sequel Indigo Lake, which if I can stop laughing will be out by the end of the year.

None of us wants to fade away. We want to leave something behind to say “I was here.” Through the gift of story, my goal is to make readers laugh, cry, and to whip up endorphins that inspire. Charity starts with empathy, whether for a character, a cause, or a connection to something bigger than ourselves. Then it must become tangible. For some, a donation of money or a trip to Goodwill completes the circle. For others, charity can be as simple as holding the door open for a stranger or taking a second trip around the block to search for a neighbor’s missing tabby cat.

I wrote a short story last year called The Nest for the Windree Press Christrmas anthology A Gift of Christmas, which was based on my husband’s and my deep love of animals. The inspiration for the story came from a true incident of our finding a baby owl temporarily blinded from hitting a window. While I fictionalized the tale with magical realism and characters from my Stitches series, the real process of nursing the bird back to health was magical truth. After leaving a healthy donation to the kind vets who helped us, we walked on air for weeks. The bird was finally released back into the wild with our hearts lifting its wings.

Small gestures can generate big returns.

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Oregon with her husband of thirty-six years and bossy cat. She enjoys writing for baby boomers. Her novels are filled with heart, humor, and mystery. Courtney has studied craft and storytelling with best-selling author Jennifer Lauck at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. She is also a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association.

In Courtney's latest novel, The Executrix, three middle-aged sisters come together after the death of their mother, and the manuscript they find in her safe will test the thickness of sibling blood. While Mom’s prose makes her larger in death than in life, it is the elderly neighbor and his unruly standard poodle who inspire the story that will change the sisters' future. 

Visit Courtney's website at www.courtney-pierce.com. Her books can be purchased at Windtree Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo Books, and at several independent bookstores in the Portland area.