Donna Hatch

The last few years have brought several major changes to my family and to me. One of the biggest changes involved our family moving lock, stock, and barrel from the Phoenix area to a town outside of Seattle. Talk about a climate change! We did trade blue skies for gray, but we also traded brown and dust, to green and lush.

We do have blue skies, too. Some of the locals refer to them as Sun Breaks. They come and go, amid sunshine and rain, almost daily, providing a wonderful diverse weather all year long. We even usually get a little snow—well, it falls anyway, though it usually does not stick for more than a day or two. My children were super excited when they had their first ever Snow Day but felt a little cheated that they only got one!

Our move came as a result of a job opportunity for my husband. Four of our six children still live at home, so the drastic change has been an adjustment for everyone. However, two years later, we are all settled in quite happily with new schools, friends, and jobs

.

Not only has Washington been better for my husband’s career, but it has also improved my health. I enjoy the great outdoors much more now and have become an avid walker, hiker, and even camper—although I still don’t love to rough it. I suffer from fewer migraines and cluster headaches now and have even taken up a little (very little, mind you) gardening. So far, most of my plants are still alive (knock on wood).

Best of all, the move also took me away from my day job in Arizona so I decided to make a career out of writing. That was one of the best decisions of my life. Writing full time has been a rewarding experience. April 18, 2017 marked the release of my nineteenth published title, my sweet Regency Romance, The Matchmaking Game. It never ceases to amaze me that the more I write, the more my Muse talks to me.

This past weekend, I did something I’ve wanted to do for years—go on a hot air balloon ride. This all came about as a result of a scene I wrote in my current manuscript. I wanted to get the sensory details just right, which is difficult to do second-hand. So with my husband’s encouragement, I booked the flight. It was unforgettable. If you’ve never been on a hot air balloon, you’re missing out. The Puget Sound from 3000 feet in the air is one of the most awe-inspiring views I’ve ever seen. I gained a whole lot of details for my book, as well as a memorable experience.

This summer I am going to England for the very first time. Like the motive behind my hot air balloon ride, I have reached a point where I am no longer content doing second-hand research; I want the full sensory experience. In my three weeks’ there, I will visit London, Brighton, Bath, Jane Austen's Chawton Village, and the Lakes District. I can hardly wait!

Despite our new adventures, we haven’t forgotten our roots. Our family still travels back to Arizona frequently to visit family and friends. We sure wish we could see them more often! We’re always happy to return home to the good ol’ Pacific Northwest where it’s cool and green. Now, if only I could convince my son to move here with his wife and baby daughter so we could see them and our sweet little granddaughter more often!

Please LIKE my FB page here: https://www.facebook.com/RomanceAuthorDonnaHatch/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/donnahatch

Check out my Pinterest boards here: https://www.pinterest.com/donnahatch29/

Here is the link to subscribe to my weekly newsletter where I share Regency/Jane Austen-esque research and trivia, as well as share news: http://donnahatch.com/subscribe/

If you would like a free ebook of my sweet full-length Regency Romance novel, The Stranger She Married, you can get the download here: http://donnahatch.com/stranger-she-married-free-download/

Summer + Books = Fun

by Courtney Pierce

Throughout the year, I poke through the shelves of my favorite independent bookstores to stoke my reading fire. The books are stacked on my nightstand and on the floor next to the bed in teetery piles, separated by genre. They wait with the tease of new stories. Each season has a mood: fall is reserved for mysteries like Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon; winter gives me a kick with thick thrillers like Natchez Burning and The Bone Tree by Greg Iles; and spring inspires me with gorgeous burst of literary prose as in All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr.

And then summer arrives. My favorite reading season.

Summer is reserved for humorous and poignant yarns that make me laugh out loud. Ridiculous situations and colorful metaphors stick with me like the mounds of impatiens in my garden that resemble Chiclets. Beyond the screen of the open sliding door, I bask in the din of chirping crickets and croaking frogs that celebrate a passing shower, an excuse to linger over a page a little longer before turning out the light. 

One more chapter. One more paragraph. One more sentence. And then I look like one of my favorite writers and illustrators, Edward Gorey. That's a picture of him and his cats to the right. 

I search out fun fiction with mature characters, specifically baby boomers because that’s what I, myself, write. The combination of wisdom and Peter Pan syndrome is hilarious. Crazy adult problems prompt—and deserve—an adolescent response. Good intentions crumble with disastrous results for the characters. These books are an entire food group at the base of my pyramid. Who needs meat when I can have a good ’ole baby boomer protagonist who heaps a deep dish of trouble on her plate?

Here’s a peek at this year’s summer selections. 

A Slight Change of Plan by Dee Ernst

A 55-year-old widow is ready to get back in the saddle of love. Of course, it doesn't turn out the way she expects when her grown son and his wife boomerang home, and her elderly mother takes up residence in the basement. The reviews say it’s hilarious. I'm taking on this one first.

Goodbye Emily by Michael Murphy

 (I’m reading this for a second time!)

A humorous and poignant voyage and return. A widower finds closure when he grabs his wife’s ashes, cleans up his VW Van, and hits the road with his buddy. They go back to the site of Woodstock to scatter the ashes. Reliving the concert memories of a lifetime becomes an unexpected adventure. A great story that is both funny and weepy.

Retirement Can Be Murder by Susan Santangelo

A light mystery about a boomer wife who is dreading her husband’s retirement—until he’s suspected of murder. Sounds like I can blow through this one in two nights. If I like it, this author has more in the series. 

A Ghost Of a Chance by Minnette Meador

I met Minnette at a book signing and plucked this from her stack. I always support my fellow local authors. A funny paranormal romance? I've got to check this out while I sip a glass of chilled white wine with my feet propped up on a patio chair.

The Executrix by Courtney Pierce

And last on the list, I’ll be re-reading my own latest novel The Executrix. This time I’ll enjoy it like a reader, not as the author. As I complete the sequel, Indigo Lake, the three middle-aged sisters are in my blood, pumping through my veins like a euphoric drug. These ladies are in over their heads. If all goes according to plan, the sequel will be out before the end of the year.

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. At least one trickster animal steals the show. For the past three years, Courtney has studied craft and storytelling the best-selling author Jennifer Lauck at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows program for writing and publishing.

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.

Hope Comes in Many Forms

By Courtney Pierce 

As a novelist, one question readers frequently ask me is, “What inspires a new character for you?” The answer is easy: ordinary, run-of-the-mill people become my characters. I hope to find the best ones at the gym when I’m on the elliptical machine . . . working hard to go nowhere.

Photo: Vlado at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

But hope is everywhere here.

As I scan the mid-morning crowd, those deep into their huff-and-puff private worlds, I pick out one person and let a new character unfold. The combination of body movement and expression tells a story about a person’s mood, determination, and inner desire. I’m particularly fond of the elderly; the road map of their lives is on full display.

On one particular morning, a year or so ago, my gaze pulled from a petite female jogger with a bouncing ponytail to an elderly man. He'd plunked down on the seat of an arm-strengthening machine. The way he grabbed the two handles made him appear to be bracing for the big dip on a roller coaster. All he had to do was push. What's the big deal? I thought as I studied him. But the man's fictional story peeled away in layers like an onion.

His physical characteristics started the process: well into his eighties, somewhat paunchy around the middle, thin gray hair in a wispy comb-over. The skin on his neck and jowls appeared to be filled with sand, as if preventing his head from flying away. His lower eyelids drooped to reveal the shiny pink inside, relenting to his doctor’s orders that he replace cholesterol pills and blood thinners with a dose of exercise. Purple bruises from a run-in with invisible obstacles dotted his arms as confirmation. 

But something else . . . soft and yielding. I dug for more.

Photo: Idea Go-FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The man stared at the handles, as if willing them to move. At one time in his life, he probably could have pushed them to a blur. Maybe he used to be a whisky runner during prohibition, possibly a mobster who slapped the backs of his gumbas over eggplant Parmesan. He had saved lives, taken lives, and laid awake at night, haunted by the lives of those who hadn't been so lucky to dodge the bullets.

The machine's mechanism appeared to have been bolted in place, immovable, a trick. And then the old man did something that paused my loopy trek on the elliptical machine. He entwined his hands in his lap and stared at his swollen, arthritic knuckles. Was he . . . hoping? Praying? Remembering? Crimes didn't keep this man awake at night; the loss of that injured kitten, stuck in the wheel well of his Lincoln, is what kept him tossing and turning for fifty years. One little fella he couldn't save. The man’s thoughts became a vibrant aura.

Photo: Keerati-
FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sprites of story.

I had attached a name to him: R. D. Griffin, a widower with the nickname Ardy. The sag of his lower lip . . . loss. He longed for his deceased wife to be waiting at home, dishing out a steaming plate of those special scrambled eggs she used to make. The standard poodle he'd rescued from a shelter waited at home by the front door. Ardy be home soon. Yellowed newspaper articles about his crimes sat in an open scrapbook on the kitchen table. Another life, a former life, before entering the Witness Protection Program. Too quiet to go home. No passes; one more try to make it right.

After another unsuccessful attempt to push the handles, Ardy returned his hands to his lap, convinced he was weak. But he was far from weak, just worn out. No one was left in his life to impress with heroic feats, no one who cared that he'd been something special back in the day. Living large and long had carried painful disadvantages without his wife. No phone calls from his buddies to transform painful memories into celebrated escapades. Now, Ardy was getting ready to pull the hardest job of his life, armed only with hope. He didn't fear the reaper; Ardy only wished to not die alone and that someone would love his dog as much as he did.

The old man pushed. This time the handles inched forward. My own arms tightened as I stretched my hope to him from fifteen feet away. Success! I blew out a breath. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it.

Ardy slid off the seat and lumbered away from the machine, disappearing and emerging as he passed behind the row of windows to the front door. That was it. All he could do. 

Photo: Photostock-
FreeDigitalPhotos.net

His story became mine, awarding me with the ability to transform this seemingly ordinary man into a character. Real to me. He became the elderly character of R. D. Griffin in my latest novel, The Executrix.

I re-started the elliptical machine and zeroed in on Ponytail Girl. 

So, what’s her story?

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. At least one trickster animal steals the show. For the past three years, 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. 

Colorful characters come alive in Courtney's latest novel, The Executrix. When three middle-aged sisters come together after the death of their mother, the manuscript they find in the safe will test the thickness of sibling blood. Mom story becomes larger in death than in life. But it is the elderly neighbor and his dog, Pogo, who just might 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.

Introducing Judith Ashley

I’m Judith Ashley and I’m so glad you’ve stopped by. You might wonder how I came to be here and I’d love to tell you. I’m a Native Oregonian (not many of us around anymore) except for three months of my life when I lived in Ohio. I love the Pacific Northwest and while we have our high desert country, for the most part I’ve lived in the wet part of the state…so I’ve moss on my north-side. 

While I’ve lived in the same state all my life, I’ve had a very eclectic work history. The common thread being I’ve always worked with people supporting them in having the best life possible given their circumstances. The second thread is education: from being a classroom teacher to showing clients more effective ways of living their lives.

Semi-retirement suits me because it gives me time to write something that I love instead of something required to get a paycheck. Well, in truth, to get those royalty checks – hmmm, don’t think I’ll go there. And that brings me back to why I’m here.