Thursday, November 4, 2010

Thankful? Diane Scott Lewis is...

With an intense, type A personality, I sometimes find I haven’t stopped to “smell the roses” (or gardenias in my case) much. I stormed through my teens, twenties, thirties…and so on, careening toward something I hadn’t yet figured out. Finally, I decided to embark on the passion of my youth, writing novels. That will be so easy, won’t it? I’m vastly talented and creative. More on that later.

The other day, after tied to my computer screen, I had to let the dog out for his duty, and I sat on my front steps. The weather was gorgeous, no humidity, and I glanced down on my gardenia bush, which has never bloomed (too cold in Virginia, I guess) and recalled the luscious blooms my mother grew in California. That fabulous gardenia smell I remembered from my childhood. With Halloween only days away, more of my childhood filtered in to my cyber-fried brain. Our small town came alive—or dead—every Halloween. We children roamed the streets, entered haunted houses, and visited houses where fake hanged men were tossed from ropes off roofs so we could scream. My mother hand-made our costumes, and prepared popcorn balls and caramel apples that no one was afraid to eat, because we all knew each other and felt safe. We gathered tons of candy we weren’t leery about munching on. One street over, two women who were teachers, wore excellent witch costumes and stirred a huge cauldron that they placed in their lighted garage every year. Inside the black pot swirled orange Kool-aid, with orange slices floating on top. On Halloween night we children, after stuffing our mouths with sticky candy, knew we could come here and partake of a refreshing drink. I hope I thanked those women, because I always appreciated their efforts. Who these days would bother, because of all the warnings about tainted treats? Plus, some parent would sue if their little darling got cavities or fat thighs—all that sugar!

So I’m thankful for my wonderful, fairly safe childhood, all the kind people I met, my mother’s gardenias and that delicious orange Kool-aid.

I’m also thankful for Ginger, my hostess, who introduced me to her publisher. 

And my debut historical novel (after years of struggling) THE FALSE LIGHT—winner of the CTRR Award. 

Blurb: Forced from France on the eve of the French Revolution, Countess Bettina Jonquiere must deliver an important package to further the royalist cause. In England, she discovers the package is full of blank papers, and she’s penniless. Stranded in a Cornish village, Bettina toils in a tavern and falls in love with a man who may have murdered his wife. Tracked by ruthless revolutionaries, she must uncover the truth about her father’s murder—and her lover’s guilt—while her life is threatened.
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Victoria Dixon said...

Yeah, I miss the days of trust, and unlocked doors; when "drinking the kool-aid" meant you were thirsty for refreshment, rather than consuming a product that you believed whole-heartedly in though it might kill you. Thank you, Jonestown. Nice bit of nostalgia here, Diane.

Diane Scott Lewis said...

Thanks for commenting, Victoria, and to Ginger for hosting me.

Maggie Dove said...

Wonderful post, Diane. I sometimes feel sorry for my children because they did not grow up like I did during those safe, sweet kool-aid days!

Tom Olbert said...

Thank you for the Halloween nostalgia; it reminded me of Halloween in my childhood. And, congratulations on "False Light."

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