I feel stoopid

I am not a big fan of soduku. Actually, I've never played it. And that is completely intentional. I hear that once you start you become addicted to it and I simply have no time left for additional addictions.

But I do admit to be slightly hooked on giving rice away by means of a lovely little vocabulary game at freerice.com. You play it, and for every word you correctly define (no cheating allowed!) the site will donate 20 grains of rice to hungry people in Third World countries. Since its inception in October 2007, 34 billion correct answers have been tallied. That translates into, hey, 34 billion grains of rice!

I feel really good about all my correct answers but I have to tell ya, for someone who spends the better part of her day with words, it hurts that I can't get past a score of 45. I hear only geniuses can make it to 60. But still. It's a hurdle I want to hop over. I want to make 50. And it's nice knowing that everytime I fret and fume to make it there, someone is getting fed.

Give it a try. Here's the link. If you make it past 50, you have to tell me so I can cheer for you and plan your demise. And NO DICTIONARIES!

Have a great weekend.

Resilience in a jar

I was sitting with a friend earlier this week and we were talking about someone we both care about who's having a tough go of it.

Somehow our conversation moved from the aches of one to the agonies of thousands — our thoughts had turned to the earthquake in China and the unspeakable number of people whose lives have been snuffed out. Lingering in the background was the unspoken fact that the dead and missing are still being counted after the cyclone in Myanmar and that the number was thousands upon thousands.

"You know," I said. "You can only take your heart so far with this. And then you have to stop. You just can't take it all in. It's too much."

Yesterday my thoughts ached with the knowledge that singer/songwriter Steven Curtis Chapman and his family are mourning the tragic death of a loved 5-year-old daughter, killed when another family member accidentally hit her while driving the family SUV.

It's too much, too much.

And yet, we are forced, aren't we, to keep breathing, to keep moving forward. The planet still spins. Somehow we have to find that secret place within us where resilience lies. And keep breathing.

Not long ago my husband removed a scorpion from the bottom of the pool. We had no idea how long it had been there. Overnight, for sure. My husband dropped its lifeless body into a jelly jar so we could show it to our teenage son. The dead scorpion was a big one, perfectly shaped, nasty pincers in their proper place, its curly tail a resting half-circle of golden brown. We don't often seen them that big and that close.

Something happened between the time the scorpion was pulled lifeless from the water and six hours later when we went to look at the body. The tail was now hooked and poised to strike, and those lobster-like pincers were at the ready. The thing was alive and mad. I don't think it even occurred to him that he'd been rescued at his darkest moment. We wished him well and let the ungrateful thing go - far from the house.

I'd never seen such resilience before. I don't want to be like that scorpion. I don't want to escape death by waking up from turmoil ticked at the world. But I had to admire the scorpion's tenacity. I suppose it couldn't really have been dead. Perhaps insects like that can survive hours submerged. I don't know. I just know what it looked like when we first put it in the jar. Dead.

But inside the fellow must've been thinking. Just hold on, hold on. It won't always be this way. It will get better.

Just hold on . . .

A great color on anyone

I love the cover on my friend Angie Hunt's newest novel. Red's been my favorite color since grade school and I'm hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn't look good in it. Angie's stopping by the Edge today to talk about She Always Wore Red, the second in her Fairlawn Series.

Here's a little teaser before we head to the interview: Jennifer Graham—mother, student, and embalmer’s apprentice—could use a friend. She finds one in McLane Larson, a newcomer to Mt. Dora. While McLane’s soldier-husband serves overseas, Jen promises to support her new friend, then learns that her tie to this woman goes far deeper than friendship. When a difference of opinion threatens their relationship, Jennifer discovers weaknesses in her own character . . . and a faith far stronger than she had imagined.

Romantic Times gave She Always Wore Red Top Pick status, always a great thing: “Be prepared to shed a few tears in Hunt’s emotionally gripping tale, the second in the Fairlawn series. With themes of family, friendship, and trusting God, the plot is enhanced by realistic and engaging characters. Jennifer’s growth as a character is evident, and the supporting cast enhances the story in a significant way. “ —Melissa Parcels, Romantic Times reviewer.

Edgewise: Now then, Ang. The first book in this series is Doesn't She Look Natural? Do people have to read the first book in order to understand the second? (And congratulations on the Christy Award nomination for that title!)
Angie: Thank you—I'm honored. And no, people don't have to read the first book first, though it's always nice to read the books in order to get a sense of the story and background. But all the books will work as single title reads.

Edge: The Fairlawn series is set in a funeral home. What kind of research did you do to, uh, get up close and personal with embalming fluid?
Ang: Unfortunately, with the advent of all the new privacy laws (HIPPA, anyone?), I was unable to observe an embalming—and believe me, I was ready and willing. So most of my research came from books, photographs, and interviews (and once you announce that you're working on funeral homes, morticians seem to come out of the woodwork!) It just so happens that one of my Tyndale editors grew up in a funeral home. She has been a great asset—she gave me the idea for the funny flower arrangements and the funeral singers, plus I had written a scene in book three where Jen and Gerald sit down to eat a steak in the prep room. My editor said that didn't feel right. "Too weird?" I asked. "No," she said. "There's always an odor in that room . . . not very appetizing." Ah. That's the sort of thing you can't always get from a book. :-/
I certainly hope the embalming stuff didn't gross anyone out, and I tried to ease my readers into it just as Jen is herself "eased" into it. Book one, the barest trace; book two, a complete description of an arterial embalming; book three, the cavity embalming. And frankly, that's as far as I want to take it. Any more would be gross for grossness's sake.

Edge: Did you and your editors disagree over how much of the body preparation process was acceptable to include?
Ang. Actually, the embalming you "see" is the embalming I put in. :-) After 20 years in this business, I think I've developed a pretty good instinct for knowing how much is too much. And you can be descriptive in a way that is clinical rather than gross (" She searched for the carotid artery" as opposed to "her stomach clenched as her gloved fingers eased into the warm opening and she tried not to think of fish guts"). So actually, none of my editors ever remarked on the level of detail . . . and none of my readers have complained. Yet. :-)

Edge: How has working on this series changed your attitude about death?
Ang: I'm utterly at peace about it—not in a hurry to pass on, you understand, but very relaxed about the process and my final destination. Doing research has also convinced me that I want to be buried, not cremated, and that I'd be better off buying my casket online.

Edge: Can you give us a hint about what happens in the third and final Fairlawn book?
Ang: Sure. People die and Jennifer buries most of them. It's a funeral plot.

Edge: (Ba dum bump) That's not much of a hint.
Ang: I don't like to give all the plot twists away! Okay, here's a blurb from the back cover copy (yes, the book is finished and handed in): In She's In a Better Place, the third book of the Fairlawn series, Jennifer Graham is now running the Fairlawn Funeral Home. Her work takes on a new dimension when Gerald Huffman, her assistant and mentor, reveals that he has a serious illness. When she learns that he and his daughter haven’t spoken in years, Jen decides to help them reconcile . . . but things don’t go exactly as she planned. Once again, the mortuary is a setting for lessons of laughter, love, and life.

Edge: The setting—a funeral home—is unique, but these books are really about the typical challenges that face women today, right?
Ang: Oh, yes. Jennifer is a single mom juggling school, motherhood, and a career--and I think most modern women can relate to her. I certainly can.

Thanks for dropping by the Edge, today. Angie. You can catch Angie on her own blog, the fascinating "A Life in Pages."

Have a stellar weekend, everyone.

I'm the only one here

Picture this. It's a new day and you have a destination to reach, a schedule to keep, and the means to get there. You are not addicted to work. You have every intention of relaxing afterward, just not right now. Right now, you are interested in moving forward at a pace that will allow you to get done what you need to get done so you can have leisure time later.

But ahead of you and blocking your path is the oblivious saunterer, sauntering. Mindless to anyone's agenda but their own. They don't see you. They never see anyone. They think they're the only ones there. They saunter because they want to and they can.

I don't consider myself an impatient person. I know we live in a world filled with rooms designed for waiting, that there will always be stretches of time when I will have to wait my turn. I've known this since kindergarten.

But I also learned in kindergarten that you have to share. This is what it means to be a polite person. You have to share the crayons and the swingset and the beanbag chair. And when you're an adult, you have to share a lot of things, including the space all around you; specifically the busy sidewalk, the grocery store aisle, the airport corridor — every populated environment where you are not the only person around.

This is what the oblivious saunterer doesn't get. My very patient husband says this kind of selfish ambler is afflicted with acute situational unawareness. They really don't know they've become blind to the fact that their right to choose a pace and space for their choices ends where someone else's begins. Perhaps they know but they don't care.

The secluded path is a great place to saunter. In fact, I highly recommend it. The busy path is a great place to remember what you learned in kindergarten about sharing.

Look up the word "saunter" on dictionary.com and even this resource will tell you the best example of this verb is a stroll through the woods, not a busy sidewalk. If you're in a busy place and you're not busy, well, enjoy your day. But hey, you could politely move to the side. I don't want you to disappear. That would be rude. I just want to move past you. And I promise I'll say thank you. Learned that in kindergarten, too.

I don't lose any sleep over this, I assure you. It's a pet peeve, a quirky one, to be sure. I also don't like wet socks, Christmas decorations still up after Easter, the non-word "irregardless," and junk mail masquerading as important mail.

Oblivious saunterers don't ruin my day. They just complicate it from time to time. And sometimes it just feels good to air a grievance even if you know it won't change anything.

Have a great week. Saunter to your heart's content on every lonely path. Be mindful of your place on the busy path. See you Friday.

No sauntering today

I know I promised you a treatise on why sauntering (of a certain kind, I might add) should be outlawed but I am saving that hot topic for Monday when I have more time to think.

I've been on jury duty all week, so I've had some mental gymnastics going on, not to mention an interrupted schedule (not complaining - I'm a good citizen and all that), and a weekly word count that is in the red (figger that one out!) And because this whole sauntering thing is a peeve that is my pet, I'm keeping it for when I have a brain that hasn't turned to oatmeal. Hopefully, Monday.

In the meantime, I offer a few comments about a book I just finished, The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs. I gotta say, this one won't make my top ten this year. It's okay. But just. I don't like saying that about anyone's book, because I know what it's like to hear that said of something you wrote.

But I think I know why this one didn't impress me. I think it's the same reason it didn't grab some and totally grabbed others. Just look at the reviews on Amazon and you'll see there's plenty of reviews on both ends of the 1 to 5 scale. I think it's because the book is written in omniscient narrator POV. Meaning the point of view is the narrator. We are looking down on these characters from the lofty mindspace of Almighty Know-it-All. It's a point-of-view that I have never taken with any of my books nor can I imagine ever doing so in the future. When you opt for omnscience, you lose character intimacy. That's what I missed with this one. I never developed reader empathy with this cast of characters. I didn't cry at the Big Sad Thing that happened at the end. That kind of bummed me out. I felt nothing. I am sure for the 5-star crowd, this just wasn't a problem. But it was a problem for me.

I doubt I will pick up another omnicient narrator POV book for awhile. It was exhausting trying to stay connected to these people. I wanted to care for them. I did. But there was nothing to pin my cares onto. This made it especially hard when the characters made really dumb choices. I just wanted slap their one-dimensional faces. Hey, I know we need characters with flaws, but only people I care about can exercise their faults and keep me cheering for them anyway.

So then. 'Nuff about that. Enjoy your weekend, saunter all you like. Monday is coming. You have been warned.

Author Beth White on the Edge

My good friend Elizabeth "Beth" White is stopping by the Edge today to chat with me about her new book, Controlling Interest, a mystery with a romantic thread. Or maybe it's a romance with a mystery thread . . .

Here's the story in a nutshell: Matt Hogan's Memphis detective agency has been on the skids since a recent attack of conscience cost him an important case. When a wealthy investor steps in and saves River City Investigations, Matt thinks all his prayers have been answered-until he finds out that with the investor comes a new partner.

Fresh out of criminal justice school and a two-year stint in the Tunica County Sheriff's Department, Natalie Tubberville is out to prove she can cut it in the world of private investigations. Her reluctant partner is determined to have nothing to do with her until Natalie makes him an offer he can't refuse! If Matt solves the next case before she does, she will return her share of the company. And the race is on. As two strong personalities compete, mutual attraction grows and all the while a simple case of a runaway bride threatens to become an international incident. Will Matt and Natalie call off the competition or discover an entirely new arrangement?

Want to get to know Beth a little better and see what makes her tick. Read on for a Q & A:

Edgewise: What's the craziest thing you ever did in the name of research?
Beth: You mean besides get married?? JUST KIDDING! Once when I was working on "The Trouble With Tommy," I went on a coon hunt with my uncle and my son. I did not carry a gun--but my son did. He was about fourteen at the time and had never been hunting before. You coon hunt at night, so we all wore these helmet-like hardhats with headlights on the front. We put the dogs in their carrier on the back of the four-wheeler and they're barking their heads off as we drive through the woods. Finally we stop and let the dogs out and follow them, listening for the change in their baying. When a dog trees a raccoon it's very distinct. Even an ignoramus like me can hear it. So my son was so excited he could hardly hold onto the bullets as he loaded them in the gun. I won't go into the details, but it was hilarious and gross and totally a South Mississippi experience.

Edgewise: Who's your favorite author?
Beth: I have lots of favorites, but I've always loved Max Brand. His real name was Frederick Faust--and he wrote totally campy westerns back in the 1920's and 30's. In fact he created Destry of Destry Rides Again and Dr. Kildare! His heroes were daring and funny, and he's the only male writer I know who could consistently do a decent romance. You gotta check him out!

Edgewise: Rumor is you're in grad school. True?
Beth: I had this idea that I wanted to teach college writing instead of middle school language arts. And I loathe education courses, so the only option was an English/Creative Writing program. It's actually been a lot of fun. I'm taking a poetry writing workshop this semester, which I totally suck at, but it scratches a creative itch I didn't even know I had. I should graduate with my masters at the end of the summer--I have one more course, screenwriting, to take. Spielberg look out!

Edgewise: What motivated you to write CONTROLLING INTEREST?
Beth: Well, I wanted to write a sequel to OFF THE RECORD, using private detective Matt Hogan as my new hero. Which brought to mind one of my favorite TV shows from the 80's, Moonlighting. So my son and my husband and I did a little brainstorming about Matt's agency being invaded by a rich rookie "girl" detective--and Natalie Tubberville was born. Matt and Natalie needed a case to solve, so we came up with this runaway Pakistani bride scenario. It just got crazier from there. I think this story is a lot of fun.

Edgewise: What was the most fun experience you've ever had as a writer?
Beth: Writing is not fun. I'm serious! Researching is fun. Answering fan letters is fun. Writing answers to blog interviews is even fun. Walking through a bookstore and seeing my name on a shelf is fun. Writing is, like someone said, "like shoving a refrigerator uphill." Well, okay, if you insist. I adore writing the scene at the end where the hero and heroine get together. I just melt into a puddle every time. We old married people know that the real work begins there, but gosh, don't you just love that hopeful spot of pure joy?

Edgewise: If an aspiring author were sitting across from you at your kitchen table, what piece of writing advice would you give them?
Beth: Anything that's worth having is hard to get.

Thanks, Beth!

Have a great week, Edgelings. On Friday: Why sauntering should be a crime.