Sunday, January 29, 2017
First, I woke up to a 3x5 inch picture of my face on the cover of the Lifestyles section of my local Gulf Breeze News, and no, it's not a mug shot! Thanks to Lisa Newell, who told my town about The Existence of Pity. My daughter said people were congratulating her in the high school halls.
Then, at 2:31 pm, I got a message from The Book Doctors. They had written an article about me and put it in The Huffington Post. Yeah, you read that right, THE Huffington Post!
But my luck didn't stop there. My older daughter and I were traveling that day, heading to her home for six months in Virginia. (She's taking a gap semester and serving AmeriCorps at a beautiful state park.) On our way through North Carolina, we stopped at Red Adept Publishing and I got to meet Lynn McNamee, the woman who made my dream of publishing a book come true. Her dog Cody is adorable, and so is Louie!
Now THAT'S what I call a red-letter day, so of course I had to buy a lottery ticket. And guess what?? I didn't win. But I still feel so lucky, and grateful!
Once more with the links to the two articles: Gulf Breeze News and The Huffington Post.
Monday, January 16, 2017
Saturday, December 24, 2016
|NAS Lighthouse, Chris Zokan's Photos|
I'm a Retail Merchandiser for Hallmark, which means I take care of Hallmark cards in eight locations -- mostly grocery stores and drug stores. Each week I go to my stores, find my boxes in the stockroom, and put the products on display. It's definitely a part-time job because these are mindless tasks that take a few hours per store -- until Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, and Christmas roll around.
But even in the busiest season, to a shopper walking by it looks like I'm just organizing cards. Actually, I'm off in my own little world, thinking about the next book I'm writing, the scene that hasn't come together yet, the characters who are telling me what they want to do. It's my lighthouse job, and the only problem I've come across is getting so lost in thought I've almost jumped out of my skin when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
Here's a link to Einstein's thoughts on the service of lighthouses: http://blogs.sciencemag.org/sciencecareers/2011/01/an-interview-wi.html
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Seventy-seven young men, journalists, and flight crew members died. Only six survived. Colombia and Brazil are still in shock as they grieve the tragic loss. Atletico Nacional, Medellin's soccer team, has made it clear they hope the South American Football Confederation declares Chapecoense the champions of the 2016 South American cup.
Hearing this sad news reminded me of two other memorably horrific accidents. In a post (on September 2014) about a trip to Colombia with my oldest brother, I write about one. "Soon we will see the Andes, and I push the tragic memory of Flight 965 carrying Ariel Felton and Catalina del Corral out of my mind. That flight, and those school friends, didn't make it over the mountains in 1995."
And there’s the crash in 1972, when a Uruguayan plane crash-landed in the Andes carrying a rugby team to Chile. Sixteen of the 45 passengers survived and were rescued more than two months after the crash.
Here's an excerpt about it from The Existence of Pity.
“Why did everyone on the plane cross themselves and clap when we landed?” Aunt Rosie asked, setting her bag down by the car.
Mom’s hand hovered over the handle for a moment before she opened the door. I knew what she was thinking: South Americans never took flying over the Andes lightly. A few years earlier, a jet had collided into the mountains, stranding the few survivors on the treacherous peaks for over two months before they were rescued.
“They always clap like that,” Aaron told her with a casual smile. “They’re just glad to be on land again.”
“Well, I’m glad to be on land, too,” Aunt Rosie said.
I hated to admit it, but my brother knew how to smooth things over.
The Andes, so magnificent, so deadly. A Chilean saying is, “The Andes don’t give back what they take.” My heart goes out to the loved ones of those who died, and to the soccer community as a whole. This team will be sorely missed.
Friday, November 4, 2016
Guest Post with Jeannie Zokan
But wait! Before you go, let me tell you about Katrina's amazing new 5-star novel, All Darling Children.
On the tenth anniversary of her mother's death, fourteen-year-old Madge Darling’s grandmother suffers a heart attack. With the overbearing Grandma Wendy in the hospital, Madge runs away to Chicago, intent on tracking down a woman she believes is actually her mother.
On her way to the Windy City, a boy named Peter Pan lures Madge to Neverland, a magical place where children can remain young forever. While Pan plays puppet master in a twisted game only he understands, Madge discovers the disturbing price of Peter Pan's eternal youth.
Now you can go to Katrina's website! :)
Thursday, November 3, 2016
The displaced feeling never left, but I managed to graduate four years later and move to Washington, DC.
Living in the capital was a thrill. I loved walking down the busy streets, stopping for motorcades, visiting the museums, and finding all the statues spread around town. Every once in a while, though, I still pined for my childhood. "Life was so much better in Colombia," I'd tell anyone who would listen. The cold DC winters and the hectic pace wore me down, and the people, although friendly enough, didn't have the warmth and caring I grew up knowing.
One cold January day I was missing Colombia yet again when a new thought stopped me in my tracks. If I missed it so much, why not go back?
The idea took shape in my mind; maybe I could work at Colegio Bolivar, the American school I attended. Plenty of young Americans took jobs overseas, and I already knew the language. Why not me?
I set up an interview with the school and found another job opening in sales, then bought my ticket and headed to Cali. I could hardly contain my excitement in those days leading up to the trip. One way or another, my life was about to change!
On the airplane, I pressed my nose to the window as we approached Cali's airport, studying every mountain and cloud and village below me. Everyone clapped when we landed safely, the crew rolled the stairs up to the airplane door, then I stepped into the warmth of the balmy Colombian afternoon, and..... I knew immediately.
I knew I didn't belong in Colombia anymore. I loved Cali, but my life was in the States.
My stay was wonderful, even though I turned down both jobs. I visited friends and places, and didn't look back when I headed home again. And when I thought of Colombia after that, it was with a nod to an excellent past, and peace with the new life I was making for myself here.