Connie's Tuesday Kitchen: Scones by Connie Vines #BWLAuthor, #AuthorsWhoBake, #Scones, #MFRWAuthor, TuesdayTreats,

Happy Tuesday!

 I'd like to share a scone recipe I prepare as a special treat for a family brunch.  Or, I must confess,  for an afternoon accompaniment to a cup of hot tea--just for me :-).  I am not the purest.  I will freeze and rewarm scones in a toaster oven or my upper open/warmer of my stove.  I do not, however, recommend reheating any type of bread in a microwave.

Real English Scones


YIELD
12 scones

2 cups flour, preferably cake flour
4 teaspoons baking powder (not soda)
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons butter, room temp
1 egg, lightly beaten
milk, enough to add up to 3/4 cup with the egg added
1 egg, extra

(If you prefer a sweet scone you may add a bit of sugar to the recipe or dried fruit).

Directions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.

Mix flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl.

Add butter and rub it with fingers until it resembles crumbs.

Beat egg lightly, pour into a measuring cup, and add milk -- you can use buttermilk instead -- to make up 3/4 cup liquid.

Add liquid slowly to dry ingredients while mixing. You should have a soft dough, but not wet or very sticky.

Sprinkle flour on a wooden board or working surface. Turn dough out on that. Pat out lightly with fingers until about 1 1/2 inch flat, or a little less.

Press out rounds about 2 1/2 inches across.

Gather excess dough and repeat the process.
Beat extra egg well.

Put the scones on a greased tin, use a pastry brush, and brush with the beaten egg.
Bake for about 13 minutes until well risen and golden.

To serve, best use them quickly. Coffee shops keep making up batches, so as to serve them almost hot from the oven.

To eat, break open while hot or warm, and eat with cream and different jams.

Do you have a favorite Scone recipe?

Please share.  

Do you have Scone Tales--misadventures in backing, you'd lie to share?

Remember, scones are the perfect snack while reading one of my novels!

Connie

It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown by Connie Vines

 “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” — which premiered 50 years ago this month — is my favorite "Peanuts" production.

“Great Pumpkin,”  represented an open and inviting canvas for legendary animator Bill Melendez, who worked on classic Disney films and “Looney Tunes” shorts before coming to the world of “Peanuts.”

[The 7 things you might not know about ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!’]

Buoyed success of the Peanuts Christmas Special, Charles Schulz, Melendez and Mendelson hashed out the new special’s plot quickly — including Linus’s late-night vigil as he waits for the Great Pumpkin, even as others question where he places his faith. (Linus had delivered the iconic “meaning of Christmas” speech in the first special, quoting from Luke.)

Their swift narrative certainty for “Great Pumpkin” freed Melendez (who also voiced Snoopy) and his crew — including gifted animator Bill Littlejohn — to create stunning watercolor skies and rich autumn hues that provide every scene with its own mood, apart from the characters. Melendez brilliantly painted both motion and emotion.

“It is by far the most colorful of the shows,” Mendelson says, “as Bill and his team captured the vibrancy of the fall season.”

And the camera, reviews report, often so static in “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” zooms in for facial close-ups in the follow-up that provide the viewer with a poignant intimacy.

“Because of this, I think we as viewers are right there in the pumpkin patch with Linus and Sally,” the Bay Area-based Mendelson says, “as she berates him for failing to produce the Great Pumpkin.”

9 Best Quotes:

1. Lucy Van Pelt: A person should always choose a costume which is in direct contrast to her own personality.

2. Linus: Each year, the Great Pumpkin rises out of the pumpkin patch that he thinks is the most sincere. He's gotta pick this one. He's got to. I don't see how a pumpkin patch can be more sincere than this one. You can look around and there's not a sign of hypocrisy. Nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see."

3. Lucy: All you have to do is walk up to a house, ring the doorbell, and say "tricks or treats."

Sally : Are you sure it's legal?

Lucy: Of course it's legal.

Sally: I wouldn't want to be accused of taking part in a rumble.

4. Linus: Have you come to sing pumpkin carols?

5. Linus: You don't believe the story of the Great Pumpkin? I thought little girls always believed everything that was told to them. I thought little girls were innocent and trusting.

Sally Brown: Welcome to the 20th century!

6. Linus: You've heard of the fury of a woman scorned, haven't you?

Charlie Brown: Yeah, I guess I have.

Linus: Well, that's nothing compared to the fury of a woman who has been cheated out of trick-or-treats.

7. Linus: There are three things that I've learned never discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin.

8. Linus: He'll come here because I have the most sincere pumpkin patch and he respects sincerity.

9. Linus: [writing to the Great Pumpkin] You must get discouraged because more people believe in Santa Claus than in you. Well, let's face it; Santa Claus has had more publicity, but being #2, perhaps you try harder.

Do you have a favorite "Peanuts" Special?

Snoopy and Linus.

The Great Pumpkin.

Peanuts Characters remind me to enjoy life!

Happy October Everyone.

Thank you for stopping by to read my Thursday blog here at "Dishn' It Out!"C\

Connie

Nowhere to Be And Loving It

Vacation. The very word conjures up memories of times spent with family. Family changes over time. When I was younger, family was my hubby and two kids. Family now includes grandkids and friends.

This year, we decided to vacation with a couple we’ve known for years and have become very good friends with. Vacations like this can either cement those friendships or destroy them. So far, I’m very deep into cement. A blown tire on the camper at 70 miles per hour, a short in the electrical system in the camper so that we had no power in a primitive camp site, a bad valve stem in a rear tire on the van…and we’re having the time of our lives.

The scenery is amazing. The historical sites have made my trip so worth it for research purposes. I’ve seen wild animals on this trip I have never seen in the twenty five plus years I’ve traveled out west. Sitting out at night in the Badlands in South Dakota and watching the first stars wink into view, and then more, and more, and more until the whole night sky was filled with twinkling, glittering diamonds and to see the Milky Way stretching from horizon to horizon—I could have sat out with my head tilted back all night long.

Because we have no real set itinerary, we stop when we want to, see what we want to, and as I said, we’re having the time of our lives. Tonight, we’re camping on the shores of St. Mary’s lake near Glacier National Park. Tomorrow, we’ll explore Glacier. And we may take a few days to do that. No set time table, no place we absolutely have to be…

Dear Diary by Connie Vines

UPDATED blog post:  Additional information about the "Gratitude Journal" and photos!

It wasn’t I until experienced a seven-hour power-outage during a rainstorm on Sunday that I really pondered the world before electricity.

With the rain and cloud-cover, it was very, very dark and icy cold.  I could actually see the alignment of the five planets quite clearly.  For those familiar with the southern California skyline, you know that we cannot see the constellations or planets unless we drive to Palm Springs, the mountains, or the high desert.  So, combined with the exceptionally cold temperatures and wind chill factor, and an inability to prepare a meal inside my kitchen, I felt as if I plopped into the center of one of my historical novels.

This is what had me ponder the act of writing in a diary.

I hadn’t read a diary (except for research purposes in years).

 As a teen or pre-teen, you probably received a diary as a birthday gift or a Christmas present.  I know I did.  The diary with a lock (which anyone, on a whim, could pick) and a key.  At first, my entries were made daily, then weekly, then, seldom at all.  Later, the diary evolved into journaling for a writing class, or jot down events, or milestone in my toddler’s life.  Now I have a journal app on my iPad that I often use for notes and thoughts about my novels points.

None of scribbles in my journals were as emotionally purging or filled with day-to-day angst of a teenager’s life.

Why?  I believe because my of my journaling was via the keyboard.

Scientific studies prove the act of pen to paper stirs creative thoughts.

While I have no real interest in keeping a detailed diary for myself

What about fictional characters?  Do you ever have your fictional characters write a diary?

That is when I recalled my salad days are a writer.

When I starting writing fiction and non-fiction for the magazine market.  I published in “Jr. Medical Detective” and “Humpty Dumpty”.  In my article, “A Candle in the Dark” (still available as part of the Thomas Gale Education Series), my heroine, Sarah kept a diary.  The story dealt with the Salem Witchcraft Trials.  I found the diary to be a very effect plot device.  It was also a good way to give the reader information without using a backstory to interrupt the flow of my story.

What are you feelings about diaries in a novel?

Are there diaries you’ve read you found of interest or diaries that change how you viewed the world?
Why is it a good idea to have a diary in your storyline?

Fictional characters are forced by their authors to carry the story (the process of the narrative).  At the most basic level the diary gives you a first-person narrative without the protagonist knowing what is going to happen.

The use of diaries in novels of the past.

Pamela (1740) by Samuel Richardson is usually described as an epistolary novel.  However, our heroine also writes a journal, and then sews it into her underwear for secrecy.

Wuthering Heights (1847) by Emily Brontë has a skeletal framework of a diary: “I have just returned from a visit to my landlord. . .Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold.”  Mr. Lockwood will learn about true emotion day by day as he finds out and writes down the story of Heathcliff and the Earnshaws.

Bridget Jones’s Diary (1996) by Helen Fielding is well known to be based on the plot of Pride and Prejudice.

The more I ponder the use of a diary in my next novel, the more I warm to the idea.

I have my favorite pen and I also have turquoise Martha Stewart premium journal I received as a gift for Christmas.  While there isn’t a lock and key, there is an elastic band to keep the journal closed.  There is also a fabric bookmark so that I may keep my place.

I can picture myself writing today's date, time, and my first entry. . .Dear Diary.

UPDATE:

For a self-growth I've also began keeping a Gratitude Journal.

I do not write in the Gratitude Journal on a daily basis.  I write in the journal weekly, or when there is a moment I would like to remember or ponder as too why this event/ conversation was so meaningful to me.

I had jotted down the words, "Music is what feelings sound like."

Yes.  This spoke to my soul; called to my very being.

This is why I play music that complements the story I am working on, or is the choice of my hero/heroine.

What music speaks to me.  Immediately, I knew. The musical I had attended at the Ahmanson Theater in Los Angeles. "The Phantom of the Opera."

Do not the lyrics make you grateful that you can experience the depth of emotion of the tormented hero of the story (I am no fan of Raoul).  However, it is the music that haunts and calls to you; leaving an imprint on your soul.

Phantom for the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Music of the Night

Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Helpless to resist the notes I write

For I compose the music of the night

[Verse 2: Phantom]

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender

Turn your face away from the garish light of day

Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light

And listen to the music of the night

[Verse 3: Phantom]

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams

Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before

Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar

And you live as you've never lived before

[Verse 4: Phantom]

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you

Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you

Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind

In this darkness that you know you cannot fight

The darkness of the music of the night

[Verse 5: Phantom]

Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world

Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before

Let your soul take you where you long to be

Only then can you belong to me

[Verse 6: Phantom]

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication

Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation

Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in

To the power of the music that I write

The power of the music of the night

[Ending: Phantom]

You alone can make my song take flight

Help me make the music of the night

[Ending: Phantom]
You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night

What music has touched your soul?  
If you are a novelist, what music speaks to you?

Happy Reading,

Connie

Vacationing Vicariously

One week away from starting our vacation and I have moved from counting days to counting hours. Well, maybe not that anxious to get going, but darn close. Hubster, myself, and two of our closest friends will be heading out to Montana and Glacier National Park and then we will spend several days in Wyoming after Glacier. (Hopefully, we'll still all be friends after this trip, too.)

Because there are going to be three people in this group who have to take a blue-billion photos everywhere we go, I’ve set up a Facebook page to share these photos. Right now, there isn’t much on the page, other than a profile picture and one photo of me and friend’s hubby scrubbing the camper down. (Yeah, dragging a dirty camper all over the country isn’t something I want to do.)

Anyway, here’s the link: https://www.facebook.com/Vicarious-Wyoming-Vacation-1655321401454175/

Check there often because I know we’ll have lots to share. That’s the joys of having a semi-retired hubby and fully retired friends. We don’t have to have a schedule, so we can take all the time we want and all the pictures imaginable. 

The Writing Process by Connie Vines

The Writing Process

I was tagged in a recent Blog Hop by a fellow board member of the

GothRom Chapter of Romance Writers, and I'd though I'd share the the topic: The Writing Process with everyone visiting "Dishin' It Out' today.

1. What am I working on right now?

I work on multiple projects at once.  Is this a good thing?  Probably not—but I do it anyway.  I’ve almost completed my novella, Bell, Book & Gargoyle (the 2nd in my Sassy & Fun  Fantasy Series)  while revising anthology: Gumbo Ya Ya (for who like romance Cajun). And I’m outlining Rand, Book 3 and Cochise, Book 4 in my Rodeo Romance Series.

2. How does my work differ from others in the genre?

I write in multiple genres and each of genres have a different “tone and focus”—in other words, a different ‘voice’.  My YA novel, Whisper upon the Water (Dream Award Winner, Nat’l Book Award nominee), is told in the 1st person.  The novel is complex; not only a coming-of-age but a transformation of society as a whole (Tay is Apache, Nde). My heroine begins as a girl on the verge of womanhood, a member of her band, speaking her native tongue. She is kidnapped, held hostage, and escapes. Taken to a Native American boarding school, she learns a new language, skills, and encounters prejudice but also kindness.  Later, she must make a very difficult choice.  Her decision will impact her life, as well as the lives of others.  The novel is written for YA level and is reading selection for the G.A.T.E. program in numerous SoCal schools, but the subject matter is not light, however, it is historical accurate.

In my Rodeo Romance Series: Lynx, Book 1, is a contemporary western romance and set in Montana and Texas. This book is lively.  Rachel is spirited and Lynx is hot and sexy—but both have had hardships in life.  My secondary characters add elements of comedy and unexpected plot twists. (Winner of the Award of Excellence, Finalist: H.O.L.T. Medallion, Orange Rose and Rocky Mt. Gold).  Brede, Book 2, is a western romantic suspense, set in New Mexico (99 cents this month on Amazon).  Since the novel is romantic suspense, I do not wish create a spoiler in this blog.  I will say everyone one loves old Caldwell, the ornery old cook, and his cohorts.  Brede is strong-willed and caring; Amberlynn is beautiful and in mortal danger.  Rand, Book 3, is told in the 1st person: ChickLit meets the Wild West and goes Hollywood. Lights, Camera, and a boot-full of Action! I am having, fun, fun with this novel! While, once again, in Cochise, Book 4, I draw upon my personal background and experiences--every wonder what goes on in planning a Pow-wow?  This novel will also address social issues.

My stories are different, because I am different.  My stories take place in places I have lived, or where I have vacationed. I know my subject matter--my father rodeoed while in high school; I have been involved in Native America culture and education programs; my husband is a Louisiana country boy; and, finally, I live in SoCal—of course I have met several Hollywood television stars (and facilitated workshops), actors are often spotted at local SoCal tourist spots, and preform in local theater.

3. Why do I write what I do?

The story calls to me, it is really that simple.  I have a feeling of time and place.  Then I begin hearing snatches of dialogue (like when you are sitting in a coffee shop and you over hear snippets of conversation).  The story invades my life (well it does, just ask my husband).  At the moment, I’m listening to Zydeco music and I have gumbo in my crockpot.  He’s complaining (only half kiddingly) that I brought bayou weather to our house (92 degrees, 50% humidity with full cloud cover and rain at 3 PM).  I am compelled to complete the story.  Native American culture says, “The story comes to the Story Teller to bring it to life.”  And this is what I, as are all writers, tellers of stories.

The French Quarter, New Orleans

4. How does my writing process work?

For short stories, novellas and anthologies, I utilize the basic W-plot with extra twists and pivotal points.  When I am writing a novel, or a novel series, I plot in acts and work with three chapters at a time (1-3, 4-6, etc.).  With the exception of short stories, I compile detailed backgrounds, motivation, and personality traits. I also conduct interviews, research, and immerse myself in the ‘culture/environment I am creating.  It is then I begin the first draft of my novel.  This will change as my characters begin to take over the book.  Any writer will agree with me, under no circumstances can you force you characters to act against his/her will.  You can, however, place huge obstacles in the way and see what happens.

Hollywood, CA

Is my first draft perfect? No.  Is my third draft publishable? It’s probably close.  At this point in the writing process, I have writer friend (usually Geeta Kakade) read my novel. She will give her opinion and suggestions—which I may, or may not follow.  Writing, after all, is subjective—as is a reader’s preference for one novel over another.

Coming Soon

To read the first chapter teasers or to purchase one (or all ) of my novels please follow this link:

http://www.amazon.com/Connie-Vines/e/B004C7W6PE


Remember to watch my book trailers!

Thank you for stopping by.

Connie Vines

Welcome, James R. Callan, Today's Guest

An Interview with Brandi

Jim:  Today, I'm visiting with Brandi Brewer, a key player in A Silver Medallion. Hi Brandi, I understand you are Crystal's roommate.

Brandi:  Actually, it's house mate.  We share a two bedroom house not too far from the center of Dallas.

Jim:  How did you meet Crystal?

Brandi:  She was looking for someone to share  the house with her. A friend of a friend of a friend told me about it and I called her.  We met at a coffee shop and visited for awhile and then struck a deal. At first, I wasn't sure I wanted to do it. I mean, she was pretty business like, straight-laced, almost boring. But it was a nice  house, two good sized bedrooms. 'Course, it only had one bath. But a great location and not too pricey. So, you pays your money and takes your chances.  I said cool.

Jim:  And how long have you two shared the house?

Brandi: Gotta be three years now, closer to four.

Jim:  How's is working out?

Brandi:  What do you think, Jim?  It's been nearly four years and we're still friends.

Jim:  Well, I mean you got stabbed and nearly died because of Crystal.

Brandi:  Hold it. If you want to continue this interview, back off.  It was not because of Crystal. Some dumb dud comes in, gets the information he asks for, sort of, and then decides to break my foot, slash my arm and stab me in the chest. He's to blame, not Crystal. You got that? Otherwise, we're through.

Jim:  I've got it. You're dating a detective, right? How's that going?

Brandi:  Fantantalistic. Tom is just the greatest. I went with a lot of scum before I met Tom. I really believed all men were that way. Then along came Tom, a tough cop - actually a detective, a gentleman through and through. I love the  guy.

Jim:  But you're still rooming with Crystal.

Brandi:  See. I told you Tom was a gentleman. He's ready for us to move in together, has been for a year. But I've seen too many of my friends rush into things and then regret it.  I said I wanted to take it slow.  He's okay with that. Lot of guys wouldn't stand for that.

Jim: I heard you weren't always Brandi. You had your name legally changed.

Brandi:  Yeah. Never liked Bertha. Would you? Decided, why should I keep the name of one of Dad’s old girlfriends? I didn’t like it. And I’m sure Mom didn’t either. So, poof, it was gone.  Took off twenty pounds, changed the hair. I had mousey brown from my mother. No more.  I got washed-out blue eyes from Dad. Accuvue gave me these aqua beauties. Decided the nose was fine. Wore braces for two years.

Jim:  You just decided to . . .

Brandi: Look the way I wanted to. Oh, and I took a course in make-up. Best money I ever spent. Even the contacts didn’t do as much for my eyes as knowing how to put on eye shadow, and eyeliner, and eyebrow pencil. ‘Course now, I just have my brows and lashes dyed.

Jim:  You and Crystal seem ... different. How do you get along?

Brandi:  Maybe it's that opposites attract thing. She's got natural beauty; I had to recreate mine. She's got lots of book learning, but doesn't have street smarts, like I do. I think we're a good match. So does Crystal.

Jim:  From what I see, Crystal's lucky to have you around.

Brandi: Now you're getting it. Hey, gotta run. I'm on the late shift today.

Brandi and Crystal were a good fit in A Ton of Gold and now they are even better in A Silver Medallion.  Check it out at Amazon.com:    A Silver Medallion

Blurb: A Silver Medallion  -  A Crystal Moore Suspense

Young, bright, unadventurous Crystal Moore comes face-to-face with slavery in today’s Dallas, Texas. A woman is held, not by chains, but by threats to her two small children left behind in Mexico. Should she escape, or even tell anybody of her situation, her children will be killed.

Crystal would like to walk away and forget she ever heard this. But her conscience won’t let her. Her parents were killed when she was just seven. She knows the heartache these children suffer. And she can’t sleep without hearing the cries of the two young girls and their mother.

Crystal knows the woman will never try to escape as long as her children are held hostage. Crystal realizes the only way to free her is to go to Mexico and rescue the girls first, for only if they are safe will the mother ever be free.

Crystal goes to Mexico and secures the help of the mysterious Juan Grande. But now, two powerful and ruthless men, one in Mexico and one in Texas, want Crystal dead.

In the midst of all this, the man who nearly destroyed Crystal emotionally is coming back. This time, he can ruin her career.

She will need all the help she can get from a former bull rider, Crystal’s streetwise housemate Brandi, and Crystal's seventy-six year-old, feisty grandmother.

Brief Bio of James R. Callan

After a successful career in mathematics and computer science, receiving grants from the National Science Foundation and NASA, and being listed in Who’s Who in Computer Science and Two Thousand Notable Americans, James R. Callan turned to his first love—writing.  He has had four non-fiction books published.  He now concentrates on his favorite genre, mystery/suspense.  His eleventh book is scheduled to release in June, 2016.

Website:   www.jamesrcallan.com/ 
Blog:          www.jamesrcallan.com/blog/ 
Author's page on Amazon:   http://amzn.to/1eeykvG  



Social Media Links:

Fcebook:   https://www.facebook.com/james.callan.33865
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard
Twitter https://twitter.com/jamesrcallan
Pinterest         https://www.pinterest.com/jamescallan/

 James, thank you for being our guest day at  "Dishin' it Out'.

I know I'm not the only person looking forward to reading  A Sliver Medallion.  

Connie Vines 

Masculine Behavior for Believable Heroes (Part 3) by Connie Vines

Checklist for Masculine Characters

• Be direct
• Be issue orientated
• Be analytical
• Act casual even during a serious conversation
• Interrupt
• Make statements
• Use short sentences
• State his preferences
• Verbalize only things he thinks is important
• Give advice
• Asks specific questions


He will not:

• Ask a lot of questions
• Ask leading questions
• Turn statements into questions
• Invite a ‘just talk’ situation
• Speak in euphemisms
• Use understatements
• Downplay his idea
• Let his sentence trail off
• Volunteer his reasons
• Hold eye contact for significant periods
• Say, “I’m sorry” unless he really means it.
• Tell stories about his failings
• Get bogged down in introspection or self-doubt
• Volunteer information about his feelings
• Ask about others’ feelings
• Ask for validation

I hope you have found this topic of masculine behavior for believable heroes informative.

Readers, what is your take on this topic?

Thank you for stopping by today.

Connie

A night at Medival Times,
Buena Park, CA

How Plotting and Pedicures Can Work for You by Connie Vines

We've all heard it said that writing is a solitary art.  Is that why we find ourselves creating such deep bonds with other writers who share our passion/obsession?  For whatever the reason, my closest friends are fellow writers.  In fact, we're not so much friends as soul mates caught up on a similar life journey.

While many of my writing friends are cyber friends, conference friends, and RWA Chapters friends, I am fortunate to have several local friends.  One of which I have know since my salad-days when I served on the board of the Pomona Valley Writers' Association.

Several years ago the three of us decided to take a brain-storming retreat in order to take our writing and careers a step further.  We also wanted to reward ourselves for hard-won accomplishments, to to celebrate our successes.

I kept a journal of what went on.  I can't say the structure (or lack there of) will work for every critique group, or circle of writing friends, but it worked for us.

Creating your own Writing Getaway.

• Divide up the duties.  The location, schedule, food, and spa, All  require planning.  There were three of us.  We each emailed each other with update and choices.
• Secure the location.  The room needs to be large enough but must also fit everyone's budget.
• Rough-out a schedule.  One person should be a time keeper.  We worked in two-hour increments with breaks in between.  That way we could focus on one person's story.  This helped because discussions can become rather tense and we needed a break.
• Parameters and Goals. Everyone should state what she/he needs to come away with.  There will be homework.  I plot using The Writer's Journey, Pam is a GMC devotee, and Bev is a seat-of -your-pants writer.  Of course there were empty spaces in our plots but we all had the Beginning, Middle, and End sort-of figured out.
• Be honest--not brutal.  
• Enjoy.  Life is all about the journey.

So were did we meet up?  Since we all live in southern California, we took a discount flight to San Francisco (an hour away) and stayed in a quaint little hotel down town.  We were able to walk a couple of miles to a cafe with great local fair (minus the tourist prices).  The next morning, hopped a cable car to the Fisherman's Wharf to gain some some plotting time while view the bay. 

Our weekend was the most rewarding getaway I've done for myself since I sold my first novel.  I recommend a retreat to anyone who can find the time.  You don't need to fly to get there.  Though I am not an enthusiastic camper, I can pitch a tent and unwillingly sleep on the ground.  Or, book a room at a local bed and breakfast during off season.

End result?  We each finished the plotting out our novels and had a good working knowledge of our characters quirks and goals.  And a deeper friendship too.

Happy Writing & Reading!

Connie  

The Franciscan--our final night in town.
Remember, I'm not a 'camping' kinda girl :-).

A Page Straight From Linda Nightingale #apagestraightfrom

Sinners' Opera by Linda Nightingale

Isabeau glimpsed a flash of color in her peripheral vision.  Wood scraped on brick.  Her head whipped left, and her heart did a double somersault and nosedive.  The star of the show stood at the head of the table, his mischievous grin and sparkling blue eyes for Isabeau alone.

“How ‘bout them apples?” Kirsty murmured.

“Good evening.”  His voice was an angel’s voice.

Heat flooded her cheeks.  “Good evening.”

The velvet ribbon had disappeared.  Sleek blond hair flowed to his shoulders.  The man was regal, sophisticated and handsome enough to stop a heart.  Charisma to the nth degree.  A flustered Isabeau smiled, felt she should curtsey.

Kirsty waved a hand at him.  “Please sit down, Morgan.  Sorry we’re late.”

He inclined his head as elegantly as he’d bowed on stage.  Through thick lashes, his eyes held Isabeau prisoner.  “I’m accustomed to rise when a lady comes to table.”

The other men shot to their feet.  His Lordship had reminded them to be gentlemen.  A few of the women glared at their escorts.  Some, like Isabeau, couldn’t surrender the vision at the head of the table.  How delightful to see Old World elegance teaching colonial gentry a lesson in proper etiquette!

“Ladies.”  The pianist shook back his hair, indicated their chairs with a graceful hand.

The bottom lip of Isabeau’s smile trembled.  What was wrong with her?  He was only a man—a man with glorious hair, enchanting eyes and a body to make a grown woman weep.  And he played the piano as if he had sold his soul to the devil.  In self-defense, a moment to breathe, she glanced at his hands.  The epitome of composure was twisting his napkin.

He waited until they’d taken their seats and resumed his.  With another of those Gabriel gestures, he flicked the creased napkin across his lap.

The woman seated to his right traced his cuff with a crimson nail.  A smile tugged at the corners of his luscious mouth, but his gaze didn’t waver from Isabeau’s.  Heat flooded her body.  Desire sizzled eye-to-eye.  I’m going to burst into flame.  Damn his arrogant hide, everyone was staring at her.  One woman craned her neck to see who’d captured His Lordship’s interest.

Isabeau’s head gave a drunken spin.  Bright spots sparkled in her peripheral vision.  Her focus narrowed to Gabriel’s blue eyes.  She tried to peel her gaze from his but failed.  Morgan’s eyelids flickered.  He glanced down, his lashes curled on his cheek.  Isabeau felt a silent snap as he broke eye contact, and her thoughts cleared.

The pianist turned to the woman clawing for his attention.  The dark-haired beauty leaned near him, her boobs threatening to spill from her low-cut bodice.  He twirled his wine glass, gazing at her as if he hung on every word.  No doubt about it, D’Arcy was one of those men born knowing how to please a woman.  The brunette looked like she was ready to strip off her Versace gown, kick off her Gucci shoes and do him on the table.  Would those Gucci’s be tucked under his Lordship’s bed tonight?  Isabeau lost her appetite.

Make mine jealousy lite.  I’m counting emotional calories.

Stupid thought.  She had no right, or reason, to be jealous of a man she didn’t know.  He probably turned down more sex than most men dreamed of.  She was engaged and intent on her career.  With a sharp flick of her wrist, she unfolded the crown of a napkin and glared at the salad plate.  A single red tomato topped spring greens and romaine.

“That green blush to your cheeks is very becoming.”  Her friend elbowed her.  “The renowned British pianist is watching you while that rabid bitch tries in vain to capture his attention.  Let’s talk about pianos.  Maybe he’ll come talk to us.  The program said he played—”

“Don’t, Kirsty Ann.”  Isabeau tensed, embarrassment blushing her cheeks.

Buy Link and web site:  http://www.lindanightingale.com

Wanna Blog for Me?

Just a note:  My posts have been sparse or non-existent at best, and since I'm finally scheduled to have a Vitrectomy on my left eye, I won't be on the computer much for the next couple of months. Instead, I'll be masquerading as a pirate.  *smile*

  The surgery itself is about 1-2 hr experience, but having a gas bubble placed in my eye to help the macula heal and hopefully save my sight, is going to require me to keep my head down for 45 minutes out of each hour for a prolonged period of time...until the gas bubble eventually dissipates.  I'm hearing anywhere from a month to longer.  Just my luck...I don't just get wrinkles on the outside, I have to have one inside, too.

 Anyhow, in order to help out my blog partner, I've put out a call for people interested in blogging on my days (Wednesdays/Friday/Sunday) for the next month or two, so if you are interested, let me know before December 11th, by sending me your post so I can schedule you and let you know which day you'll be up.  I already have four to start with, so more are welcome.  You can email me directly with the information.

Not one to miss a promo opportunity, I'd like to share a sample of Time Invested, my historical novella:

Texas, March 1943
Meagan Murphy tapped her toe beneath the food-laden table despite the fact she’d been
hunched over it for hours, dishing out portions at the weekly USO dance. Preferring to find a partner and have a little fun, she methodically spooned mashed potatoes onto passing plates and eyed the “Jitterbuggers” on the floor.

“May I have some gravy please?” A deep voice drew her attention.

The eyes she looked into darkened, and his perfectly formed lips curved into a dimpled
smile. She cleared her throat and picked up the ladle. “Say when.”

“How about right after I polish off this chow.”

“Excuse me?” She cocked a brow.

“You said, say when. I thought you were inviting me to dance.” He winked.

There was something about him—different from the other GIs. Flirting was a common
occurrence here, and she generally ignored it, but this brazen specimen piqued her interest. Still, she didn’t dare encourage him because her of her father’s presence at the dance. She rolled her eyes. “I meant tell me how much gravy you want on your potatoes.” Drizzling juice over his plate, she spoke in her best business-like tone.

“When!” He dabbed at a spot of gravy on the plate’s edge and flashed a smile. “Now,
about that dance…” He licked his finger clean.

The fellow behind him cast an impatient stare at her and thrummed his fingers on the
table.

“You’re holding up the line,” she said to the flirt, her cheeks heating. Nerves clutched at
her stomach, stealing the appeal of the mingling food aromas.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll move along.” He stood firm.

“Meagan. Now scoot! You’re going to get us both into trouble.”

 She glanced across the room to where her father sat, hating when he dropped in. His presence put a giant damper on the evening. Showing anything more than polite attention to men in uniform wasn’t tolerated. Daddy’s demand proved to be a test of her resilience…especially tonight. She turned her gaze back to the fellow who hadn’t budged.

“Name’s Ryan Cullen.” He finally moved on to the breadbasket but kept his stare focused
on her. “I’ll look for you when you’re done serving.”

Managing a weak smile, she pondered how to avoid him and an embarrassing explanation, then turned her attention away and waved to her mother and younger sister, Martha, who sat next to her father along the far wall. Thomas Murphy, a local councilman, fulfilled his civic duty by visiting once a month to show his support of the USO and their mission. Why did he have to pick tonight?

Her sister fidgeted and slumped in her chair. The look on her face screamed ‘bored to
tears.’ The situation wouldn’t be any different had Martha been older, because Daddy only
supported the troops to the extent that they stayed away from his daughters.
Meagan sighed. So much for dancing with Ryan Cullen. At least tonight.

 Hopefully, he’d come next week when her father stayed home and listened to his infernal radio. She nibbled her lip and wondered if Ryan danced as good as he looked, but a fly buzzed too close to the food and interrupted her thoughts. She swatted at the annoying insect and planted her hand firmly in the remaining mashed potatoes. Hoping no one noticed, she swiped her mushy palm along her apron, gasping when she spied the dead insect within the handprint she left behind.

Luckily, her replacement showed up with a fresh bowl. “Time to take over,” Freida said.

“Thank goodness.” Megan snatched up and transferred the quarter-empty dish to the cart
behind the table. “My feet are screaming. See you next week.” She tossed her apron into a box then paused while she rubbed the small of her back and shrugged tired shoulders.

“Ready to dance?”

Ryan’s voice made her jump. “I-I can’t—”

“Can’t believe your good fortune? Can’t wait to dance with me?” He took her hand.

Her response to his arrogance dangled on her tongue, but disappeared when her sister
scurried over and elbowed her in the side.

“Meg, Daddy says it’s time to go. You know you aren’t supposed to talk to strangers.”

Martha twirled a braid and flashed a grin at Ryan. Meagan withdrew her hand from Ryan’s as if a flame burned her palm then stooped until her face was inches away from her sibling’s. “Really, why don’t you act your age? You’re thirteen, not five,” she whispered.

Straightening, she turned her attention back to Ryan. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Maybe
we can have that dance another time.” She lowered her lashes then yanked her sister by the arm toward where their parents waited. “Honestly,” Meagan chastised, “why do you insist on embarrassing me?”

Martha pulled free. “You liked him. I could tell. And if you don’t be nice to me, I’m
gonna tell Daddy you promised to dance with that fella.”

Meagan grabbed the brat’s hand and squeezed. “You will not say a word, got me?”

****

Click on the cover if this piqued your interest, which I hope it did.  Hope to be seeing you soon out of both eyes.  :)