Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 09-28-07

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Dear Reader,

Every vacation has memorable moments and this year the half day train excursion to the Nantahala River Gorge in the Smoky Mountains and the Fireman's Festival in Bryson City, were the highlights of my trip.

My husband and I went to the Fireman's Festival in Bryson City at 9:30 in the morning and we didn't leave until 4:30 in the afternoon. I'm a small town girl, so I've been to a lot of "hometown" celebrations. Usually I walk around for an hour and then head back home. But every single event listed on the schedule of the Fireman's Festival was entertaining, even the eight minute parade at noon.

Who would have thought that simply watching all of the fire trucks and emergency vehicles from Bryson City and nearby towns drive down Main Street, lights flashing and sirens blaring as loud as they could, would be enough for a parade. But the little kids and I were cheering as the trucks drove by.

The first event of the day was the "Catch the Spirit of the Appalachia Talent Show." Catch the Spirit of the Appalachia is an organization that works with kids throughout the South sponsoring local talent shows, and then the winners are invited to perform at a concert for an audience of over 30,000 people.

I found a great seat in the church pews set up for spectators in the old train depot--second row back--right next to a mother of one of the contestants. She was cradling her daughter's violin and bow in her arms and I smiled because she looked like a nervous wreck. But what mother wouldn't be? Whenever my kids used to be in the spotlight, thank heavens someone always taped the event, because I was too afraid to even look. What if something went wrong? And I think that's what the mother sitting next to me feared, too.

"Katlin, Katlin" the mother was trying to get her daughter's attention. "You have a bunch of fuzzies on your head. Come over here and let me see. And there's something on your face, too." Mom licked two fingers and started wiping away a last minute smudge. "Are you excited Katlin? Of course you're excited, you've been excited for ten days."

"Mom, stop! Stop talking to me, will you? You're making me nervous."

Katlin's mother sat quietly after her daughter's scolding, but she kept her eye on the three rows of trophies sitting on the judges' table. Nine-year-old Katlin won one of those first place trophies in the fiddle division. Mom was so proud!

Six-year-old Amanda could hardly reach the microphone when it was her turn, even though they lowered it as far as it would go. Arms down at her side, she stood in front of the microphone and sang so sweetly, I had tears in my eyes. It was another winning performance.

Kevin played the guitar, keyboard and mandolin, and on his last number, the eleven-year-old belted out with believability, Johnny Cash's "I've been everywhere man, I've breathed the mountain air, man," and he took home one of those first place trophies, too.

Pickin' and strumin' and singing up a musical mountain serenade. I can't remember when I'd had so much fun. It was hard to believe they were just kids. Of course I have some photos, go to:

http://tinyurl.com/yoto9a

Next week I'll tell you all about the unusual Miss Flame Contest, my train excursion and some pottery that was made in the Smoky Mountains that I bought to give away to readers. Have a wonderful weekend.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 
http://www.DearReader.com

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-27-07

Join my email book club. Over 330,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

Vacation was wonderful, but it's so good to be back. My husband and I stayed on the other side of the Smoky Mountains this year. We rented a cabin near Bryson City, North Carolina and I felt right at home, because Bryson City reminded me of the small town where I grew up. Granted in Cuba City, my hometown, we were surrounded by cows instead of mountains, but the vibrant Main Street, the slow pace, and friendly people you find in a small community were just as I remembered.

The first weekend we spent in Bryson City they were celebrating their annual Fireman's Day Festival and Railfest 2007. What luck! I hadn't planned it that way, but those two celebrations were the highlights of our trip.

I have a lot of stories to tell (no bears this year, thank heavens) and I have pictures to show you, too, but right now I need a reason to bake chocolate chip cookies. I haven't baked for two weeks and since baking is essential for me, really a kind of therapy, won't you please enter the September Chocolate Chip Cookie Giveaway? Every month I bake for a reader and I'd love to bake cookies for you.

All you need to do to enter the cookie drawing is send me an email at:
[email protected] Please include your mailing street address in case your name is chosen. I overnight all my cookies via Fed Ex.

I'm so happy to be back. Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Warmest regards,
Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 
http://www.DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: Win signed copies of books you'll read and never forget from these terrific authors: Erica Spindler, Last Known Victim; Tom Grace, The Secret Cardinal; Nancy Bush, Ultraviolet; Debbie Macomber, Where Angels Go; and Derek Armstrong, The Last Troubadour. Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-26-07

Join my email book club. Over 330,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

Today's column is from "The Best Of." Suzanne's back from vacation, she's unpacking today and she'll be back at her desk tomorrow.

The other day I observed someone making a choice that would impact their life in a negative way and it irritated me immensely. I couldn't understand why they would make such a bad decision when the right one seemed so clear to me. Later on though, I thought about my own life and realized that I used to walk around with loose wires in my brain. And frankly, it took longer than I like to admit for me to recognize some of my own poor decisions.

I guess we all have those loose wires inside of us at some point in our lives. The times when, for some unknown reason, we just can't get-it-together. We see other people participating in this "life thing" with more ease than us and we wonder, "What's wrong with me? Why can't I get plugged in, too?"

Thankfully for most of us, those loose wires connect at some point and we take off with a new sense of the realities and possibilities of life. And we find the best part is now clearly within our reach because we've discovered the missing connection.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]
http://www.DearReader.com

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-25-07

Join my email book club. Over 330,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

I'm on vacation for two weeks and I've asked some of my friends to fill in for me. Today's guest column is written by award-winning speaker and author Chellie Campbell.

Chellie's written two books, The Wealthy Spirit: Daily Affirmations for Financial Stress Reduction and her latest, Zero to Zillionaire: 8 Foolproof Steps to Financial Peace of Mind.

I met Chellie in Los Angeles when I was at Book Expo America. She's become a good long distance friend, someone I can always count on to help me get "grounded." But I really should ask her for a poker lesson sometime. This past January, at the LA Poker Classic, she came in 3rd Place and won $10,000.

If you'd like to contact Chellie, she'd love to hear from you. Every single reader who sends her an email will get a copy of Fabulous 50 Abundance Affirmations. You can reach her at: [email protected]

Thanks for covering for me, Chellie.--Suzanne Beecher

Dear Reader,

I love Suzanne and her book clubs, so I was delighted when she invited me to write a guest column for her while she's on vacation. We're both cat lovers, and when I shared with her about my big, orange love-cat, she said, "Write about him!" So welcome to my cat-loving world:

After marriages, divorces, loves, friendships, careers, volunteer activities, hobbies, and all of our life's adventures, my roommate, Shelley, and I have settled into a comfortable domestic routine. The conclusion is inescapable: we have devolved into two old ladies with cat.

We are a polygamous family; two working women and one big, fat orange cat, the sun around whom our moons revolve like the sister-wives around Bill Paxton in Big Love. We used to have another cat, also. Yoda was a scrawny little calico gal, feisty and territorial, who ran circles around Mr. Kitty. But her heart gave out one day when she was 15, probably frustrated from trying to get Mr. Kitty to jump around with her.

Mr. Kitty ("They call me 'Mister' Kitty!") doesn't jump much. He weighs 28 pounds. He used to weigh 30 pounds, but we put him on a diet. I couldn't make it work. He turned his nose up at the diet cat food and I crumpled when his big, sorrowful eyes looked at me accusingly. I could hear him thinking, "What's this dreck you've put in my food dish? Cat tofu?" When the veterinarian called to check in on how the diet was going, I had to sheepishly say I just couldn't feed him the diet food because he didn't like it. The vet was exasperated. "What do you think he's going to do about it? 'Leave home?'"

My introduction to Mr. Kitty came late one night when I arrived home to find a large, brown-paper note taped to the front door, upon which was scrawled "We have another cat. Otherwise, he is going to DIE!" I laughed and walked in to meet our new Lord and Master. Shelley had found him in a friend's backyard, where he was being attacked by a dog. Naturally, she rescued him and brought him home. He purred when I petted him, then reached for me when I stopped, so I pet him some more. The hook was in. I work for him. He controls the vertical, he controls the horizontal. He returns control to me on a limited basis when he is, for the moment, satiated.

I have had dogs before, and don't get me wrong, I love dogs. But they are all-love-all-the-time and it gets a bit exhausting, don't you think? Mr. Kitty is a master of the only thing that drives lab rats crazy: intermittent reinforcement. Sometimes he loves you--and sometimes he doesn't. It's your job to figure out what he wants and when he wants it.

As a speaker and author, I read a lot of self-help books. Mr. Kitty always has an opinion about them. When I was reading Who Moved My Cheese, Mr. Kitty stretched and sharpened his claws on the carpet, as if to say, If They Move Your Cheese, Claw Them to Ribbons. His advice from The Power of Food Now involves how to identify and control the primary food giver, and he makes it clear The Fat Cats Next Door will feed you, too, if you play your cards right. In his opinion, Cats are from Mars, Dogs are from Venus, and his hero is The Fattest Cat in Babylon. Babylon may be dried and dust, but Mr. Kitty, the fattest cat in Brentwood, lives to eat another day.

And only the finest, juiciest cat food will do, so I have to go back to work now. My life has purpose and meaning: I have to bring home the cat food. One day I'm going to write down Mr. Kitty's wisdom in a new book. I'm going to call it "The Fat Cat's Guide to Living Rich so You Don't Have to Work Like a Dog."

And who knows? Maybe you'll be reading it at Suzanne's book club one day.

Chellie Campbell

Chellie's website: http://www.chellie.com/ and her email address is: [email protected]

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-24-07

Join my email book club. Over 330,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

I'm on vacation and some of my friends have offered to fill in for me. Today's column is written by author Joel ben Izzy.

About three years ago I decided I wanted to become a better storyteller, so I went to one of the masters, my friend, Joel ben Izzy. And he was kind enough to literally "school" me over the phone, "Storytelling 101." Joel's book The Beggar King and the Secret of Happiness has a permanent home on my bookshelf. It's a true story. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it and it just came out in audio, too.

Thanks for helping me out today, Joel.--Suzanne Beecher

Dear Reader,

Although I do not know you, we are connected, as you read this, by a string of words. As a teller of tales, I believe this is what stories can do--connect people by threads which, while gossamer-fine, reach past geographical frontiers, stretch beyond boundaries of time and even cross the barrier between life and death.

Searching for these connections is part of what we do here on earth. I was reminded of this years ago when I traveled through France, where I met an older man by the name of Leo, who lived in Dunkirk. He was kind enough to host me in his cabin on the rocky shore, and while a cold, foggy wind blew outside, we spent a pleasant evening before his fire, sharing food and trading stories.

As the evening drew to a close, I asked him how I was to wake in the morning, as I had an early train to catch.

"Ah!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "One more story..." he said. He told me of the night, just after World War II, that he had arrived in New York very late, with a flight back to Paris early the next morning. He had use of an apartment in New York but, as he explained to the cab driver, no way to wake up early.

"Which apartment?" asked the driver as they arrived at the building. Leo pointed to a window several floors up.

"And when do you have to wake up?"

"At five," said Leo. "or I'll miss my flight."

"Hmmmm," said the cab driver. "Here's what you do." He reached into the glove compartment, producing a roll of kite string. "Just before you go to bed, tie one end of this string around your big toe. Then, put the other end out of the window, reaching almost down to the street."

"But why?"

"Well, five o'clock is when I get off work, and I pass right by here. I'll pull on the string and you'll wake up."

"Well," said Leo, "I was surprised then as you are now. But that is exactly what happened."

And that is my hope for you, dear reader, as you read or listen to a snippet of prose today--that you find a connection you did not know you had.

(I hope you're enjoying your vacation, Suzanne.)

Joel ben Izzy

If you'd like to contact Joel, send your email to: [email protected] and I'll see that he gets it. Joel's website is at: http://www.storypage.com/

AUTHORBUZZ: Win signed copies of books you'll read and never forget from these terrific authors: Erica Spindler, Last Known Victim; Tom Grace, The Secret Cardinal; Nancy Bush, Ultraviolet; Debbie Macomber, Where Angels Go; and Derek Armstrong, The Last Troubadour. Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-21-07

Join my email book club. Over 330,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

Today's column is written by my friend, author Jessica Keener. My husband and I are on vacation in the Smoky Mountains. Jessica has always been a "cheerleader" for the book clubs, in fact, last January she wrote an article about the book clubs for O, The Oprah Magazine.

Jessica's just finished her second book, Others Less Fortunate and she's graciously letting us take a sneak peek at her manuscript today. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. To sample Others Less Fortunate go to: http://tinyurl.com/yv4yy8 What do you think? Do you want to keep reading? I'll forward your mail on to Jessica. We'd love to hear your feedback and she's promised to answer all of her mail.

Email your comments to: [email protected]

Thanks for helping me out while I'm on vacation, Jessica.-- Suzanne Beecher

Dear Reader,

Thinking about Suzanne en route to the mountains, I have a confession to make about long, summer road trips. I love them but--

One challenge I have is figuring out where to stop along the way for gas and food and, at the same time, land a decent bathroom that has toilet paper--even better, one that provides special tissue paper for covering toilet seats. Come across one like that and I know I've arrived in pit stop heaven.

Sort of.

As most of us have seen (my husband tells me that some men's bathrooms have them too), these tissue dispensers hang on the wall behind the toilet. When I see one, I tell myself: this place cares about hygiene.

Feeling good about life, I pull the tissue out of the dispenser. But I've pulled too hard and it rips apart. I try again; tugging with what I hope will be the right combination of finger force and agility.

This second time it comes out whole but folded like origami.I gently open it. That's when my next challenge comes into play.

Unfolded, the tissue is shaped like a horseshoe with a tongue hanging between the two horseshoe ends. It's also weightless--light as the breeze gusting out of the ceiling vent above the toilet. So light, in fact, the air current and the tissue become one, and just as I've unzipped and am about to sit down to do my business, it flies off the toilet seat onto the floor.

By now I really have to go to the bathroom. I yank on toilet-seat-cover-number-three. No surprise: I've torn it, but this time I don't care. I wrestle it open, plaster it over the seat and keep it pinned down with my hand. Except the tissue's tongue slips into the toilet water. The now sopping and heavier tongue drags the rest of the horseshoe into the bowl. Tissue number three is a goner.

Gotta go, folks. It's why we stopped in the first place. So I resort to what my mother taught me, when I was three, about dealing with sanitation in public bathrooms. I unfurl ribbons of toilet paper from the roll, place them on the toilet seat, and go.

Works every time.

Here's hoping Suzanne finds some heavenly pit stops of her own on her way to and from the mountains.

Jessica Keener

Jessica Keener is a regular contributor to The Boston Globe, a fiction editor at Agni magazine, and co-host of the website, Backstory. Her articles have appeared in O, The Oprah Magazine, Poets & Writers, Fine Gardening and other national publications. Her short stories have been nominated for The Pushcart Prize and won awards such as Redbook's second prize. She lives in Boston with her husband and teenage son.

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-20-07

Join my email book club. Over 330,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

I'm on vacation for two weeks and some of my friends have graciously offered to write a guest column for me. Today's column is written by bestselling author Barbara Bretton. She's written so many books that I've lost count. Her latest is Just Like Heaven, which coincidentally is being featured in our Romance Book Club this week.

Barbara is a good friend that I've never met in person. She must be just a little bitty thing, because I don't know how she could find the time to eat between writing books, blogs, newsletters, knitting (she made Baby Paul, my grandson, a blanket and sweater) and she loves to hear from readers, and she answers her mail. Barbara wrote a guest column for me last year, too, and she said that it was one of her "happiest writing experiences". Hundreds of readers wrote to her and she answered each and every email. So don't be shy about writing. Send your email to [email protected] We'll see that she gets your email.

Thanks for helping me out again this year, Barbara.--Gratefully, Suzanne Beecher

Dear Reader,

Let me tell you what happens when a writer who grew up devouring Nancy Drew mysteries comes face to face with a mystery of her own.

It was an average Friday morning. I was planning to meet a friend for lunch in a few hours so my hair was pinned up in gigantic bright red Velcro rollers when I heard the rumble of the UPS truck and the happy thud of a package being left on the doorstep.

I opened the door a fraction and peeked out to see what the driver had left behind. A Gone With The Wind Collector's Plate! (Go ahead. Laugh. I don't blame you. We all have our secrets.) I wanted to pop outside and grab my plate but I heard my mother's voice loudly inside my head, "Never go out with your hair in rollers, Barbara, or a bolt of lightning will strike you dead." Okay, maybe she didn't put it quite that way but her meaning was clear: life as I knew it would definitely screech to a halt if I ventured outside in rollers. Funny how some things stick with you over the years. There I was, a woman in her forties, and I couldn't have stepped outside with rollers in my hair if the house was on fire.

But no problem. I'd bring the plate inside before I left for my lunch date. We live in a sleepy small town in central New Jersey where the biggest item on the police blotter that year was the case of the missing ceramic frog that had mysteriously disappeared from a neighbor's lawn.

Two hours later, minus the rollers, I'm ready to leave. I open the front door to get my plate and you guessed it: my plate is gone. I peer behind the azaleas. I poke around the rhododendrons. No sign of my GWTW plate anywhere so I did what any other outraged citizen in our small town would do under the circumstances: I called the police. (To think I'd grown up in New York City where you wouldn't call the police unless you heard gunfire!)

Five minutes later two squad cars, lights flashing, pulled up in front of my house. That GWTW plate-stealing thief won't know what hit him, I think as the cops walk toward me.

Cop 1: "You lost a plate, ma'am?"

Me: "Yes."

Cop 1: "What kind of plate?"

Me: (embarrassed) "A GWTW collector's plate."

Cop 2: "What did the plate look like?"

Me: "I don't know. It was still in the box."

Cop 1: "How did you know the plate was out here?"

Me: (growing even more embarrassed by the second) "I peeked outside the door after the UPS guy left and saw it."

Cop 1: (locking eyes with his associate) "You looked outside, you saw the plate, and you left it there?"

Me: "Yes."

Cop 2: "Why did you leave it there, ma'am?"

Me: (wishing I was invisible) "My hair was in rollers."

I'll spare you the rest. How they managed to keep straight faces is beyond me, but they did. They questioned my neighbors. They inspected every inch of my property. They did everything but dust for prints. (An oversight, in my opinion.) Finally they assigned me a case number and said they'd be in touch.

Cut to Monday morning. Like I said, I grew up reading Nancy Drew books and this was a mystery I intended to solve or know the reason why. I spent the weekend listing clues and conjuring up various scenarios that involved cat burglars and aging Clark Gable groupies. I'm waiting on the front step when the big brown UPS truck rumbles to a stop. Our regular driver jumps out and hands me a box with a Gone With The Wind plate in it. Huh?

It turned out a substitute driver had delivered on Friday, and because our houses are numbered strangely, the sub decided he had misdelivered the plate. He retrieved it from my step then returned it to the distribution center where our regular driver found it that morning, safe and sound.

Ten minutes later, our Small Town Police Department marked Case #1A78895 "Closed."

You'll be glad to hear Nancy Drew has since retired.

Happy vacation, Suzanne!

Barbara Bretton

Visit Barbara's website: http://www.barbarabretton.com/letter.shtml If you'd like to send Barbara an email, send it to [email protected] and I'll see that she gets it.

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise these are five that deserve your attention: Steven James, The Pawn; Melody Carlson, An Irish Christmas; Emily Benedek, Red Sea; Noah Charney, The Art Thief; and Philip Donlay, Code Black. Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Content by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-19-07

Join my email book club. Over 330,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

Dear Reader,

I'm on vacation in the Smoky Mountains. My friend, bestselling author David Morrell, has graciously offered to write a guest column for me today.

In 1960, when David was 17 years-old, he became a fan of the classic television series, Route 66. I remember the show, too. It was about two young men in a Corvette traveling the United States in search of America and themselves. David was so impressed by writer Stirling Silliphant's scripts, that he decided to become a writer, too. And David's certainly been busy writing ever since. His latest book Scavenger makes number 29 on his list of titles.

David would love to hear from you and he has signed copies of Scavenger (and a few other "goodies") for two book club readers. To reach David and to enter the drawing, send your email to [email protected]

Thanks so much David for writing a guest column.--Suzanne Beecher

Dear Reader,

Last year in May, I got into a terrible habit. My publisher needed the manuscript of my new novel by early August. I was writing six pages a day, which is a lot, but even at that rate, it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to finish in time. Because there are only so many hours in a day, I decided that the solution was to create more days. Sounds impossible? Hardly. I simply extended my work week from five days to seven.

That way, I gained eighteen extra days and delivered the manuscript when the publisher needed it. Unfortunately, I found this schedule so productive that, as other deadlines loomed, I stuck to my seven-day-a-week pattern. Just for a while longer. Just until I caught up to my deadlines.

That's what I promised myself, but by February of the following year, I was still writing seven days a week. I wrote on Thanksgiving morning. I wrote on New Year's morning. (Stephen King once said that he wrote every day, except Christmas and his birthday. He later admitted that this was a lie. He wrote on Christmas and his birthday also.)

An objective observer might say, "This doesn't sound healthy." By February, I came to the same conclusion. I felt tired in body and imagination. But a habit is hard to break, no matter how wearying it might be. I needed something momentous and motivating to get me out of that pattern. But what?

As an action writer, I do a lot of research about the kinds of exciting activities that my characters perform. For a novel about outdoor survival, I once spent thirty days living above timber line in the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming. For a book about protective agents, I took a course in the defensive/offensive driving that the Secret Service needs to know when escorting VIPs (how to ram barricades and spin a car 180 degrees). I got my scuba diver's license. I learned about firearms.

But there's one thing I always wanted to do and never found time for: to learn how to fly a plane. In February, I telephoned the airport in my home city of Santa Fe, New Mexico. I found a flight school. Since then, I've gone to the airport every Saturday morning and sometimes on Tuesday.

I strap myself into a single-propeller Cessna 172. With my instructor next to me, I use a two-way radio to ask the controller for permission to taxi to the runway. At the runway, I ask for permission to take off. I doublecheck for incoming aircraft. I guide the plane to the runway's center line. I apply full throttle and pull back on the yoke when the plane reaches a speed of fifty-five knots.

Up, up, and away. I'll soon take my first solo flight. I hope to have my private pilot's license by the end of the year. Maybe Suzanne would enjoy a ride. At eight thousand feet, the world is vast and beautiful. When I'm controlling an airplane, I don't (and can't) think about anything else. The metaphor of flying is powerful. I literally rise above everything and enter a new universe.

You may have noticed the paradox that, to break a pattern, I established another one. I suppose that's the nature of my personality. But in this case, two patterns somehow interact beautifully. I'm a better writer because I liberate my mind through flying. It's an instructive story, I think. Perhaps you, too, have something you always wanted to do that would help you rise above it all.

David Morrell

http://www.davidmorrell.net/

To reach David and to enter his book giveaway, send your email to: [email protected]

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-18-07

Join my email book club. Over 330,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/

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*Correction...the email address for Blaize Clement, yesterday's guest columnist was incorrect. I goofed. My apologies to you if you tried to reach Blaize and were frustrated. You can reach her at: [email protected] and if you missed her guest column yesterday and the chance to win a copy of her book, go to: http://tinyurl.com/34xw6h

Except for this goof, I'm having a wonderful time on vacation. Talk to you soon.--Suzanne Beecher
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Dear Reader,

Hundreds of people entered the Write a Dear Reader contest and today's column is written by one of the winners, Pam Hooper.

It was perfect timing when I phoned Pam to tell her she was one of the winners, "Monday's my birthday!" She was so excited!

Pam's been reading at the book clubs for two-and-a-half years, but this was the first time she entered the contest. Pam said she journals every day, mostly about her kids, or things that happened during her day--and how they made her feel. She's mainly a Science Fiction reader, so I guess it's not surprising that her column is all about "What if?"

Thanks for entering the contest Pam. You wrote a great column. It's an honor to know I'm reading with you every day.--Suzanne Beecher

Dear Reader,

What if?

I am the queen of what ifs. I do it constantly and I am an expert at it. What if I lose my job? What if the car breaks down? What if my kids get hurt? What if I plan that great vacation and then cannot come up with the money?

For years I have dreaded the what ifs. They haunt me late at night. I have tried everything I can think of to make them go away. I have tried to be positive and reassure myself that things will turn out alright [they almost always do after all]. I have tried plugging my ears and saying 'lalalalal' to try to drown them out the way my kids do when they don't want to hear each other. Every trick I have tried so far has failed.

Today a friend of mine who has known me for years offered me a few what ifs. 'What if everything goes perfectly? What if you get a raise? What if you find what you are looking for?'

For the first time I am excited by my what ifs! I am eager to try it out for myself now. What if I win a vacation? What if my kids bring home straight A's? Or better yet, what if I win this contest and get to have a Dear Reader column for Suzanne?!?

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. What if...

Pam Hooper

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy

Dear Reader Column 09-17-07

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Dear Reader,

Today's Dear Reader column is written by author Blaize Clement. I'm on vacation and good friends, like Blaize, have offered to fill in for me. Blaize and I first met when I featured her book, Curiosity Killed the Catsitter. I loved the book and so did my cats. (Well, they fell in love with the catnip bookmarks that were attached to it.) Blaize has also written Duplicity Dogged the Dachshund and watch for her upcoming book in January 2008, Even Cat Sitters Get the Blues.

Blaize would love to hear from you. Be sure and send her an email and when you do, she'll enter you in her giveaway drawing. Three copies of Curiosity Killed the Catsitter (including those famous catnip bookmarks) are waiting for readers. You can reach Blaize at: [email protected] --Suzanne Beecher

Take it away, Blaize...

Dear Reader,

Suzanne and I were at our favorite Tex-Mex place eating hot stuff and talking writing, when I said there were certain words I love but never have an opportunity to use. She asked which word in particular I would like to use, and I said, "Numinous."

Quick as a flash, she said, "You can write a guest column while I'm on vacation and use it."

I was thrilled. All the way home, I said the word to myself. Noo-men-ous. I just love that sound. As soon as I got home, I went to the dictionary to be sure the word meant what I thought it meant. Yep, it means an invisible something that causes a feeling of awe or belief in the holy or supernatural, the "wholly other." Since I write mysteries about a pet sitter, you can see why I've never been able to work it in. Cat hair in the butter is not numinous.

The very next night while I was in bed reading, the word jumped up at me from Husband, by Dean Koontz, when a creepy character says something about "this numinous room." From the point of view of the character in the book, the word was sort of justified, but I was shocked. Here I'd been tiptoeing around that word for years, and Koontz had just tossed it in like it was something people say all the time. How could he be so cavalier about my beloved word?

For several days, I was pretty bummed out about it. I kept telling myself that Koontz is a magnificent writer. He wrote an entire book in iambic pentameter, for Pete's sake. So who am I, who barely know what iambic pentameter is, to question him? Then I began to wonder if Dean Koontz had been wanting to use "numinous" all his writing life, too, and after writing more than fifty novels, had decided he would never find the right place. Maybe he'd said, "I don't care, I'm using it anyway."

For some reason, I liked the idea that a top-notch writer like Koontz could jump free of dictionary inhibitions and use a word any way he dang well pleases. I have forgiven him for stomping on my word. In fact, now that I've recovered, I think I may be a better person for the whole experience.

Heck, maybe cat hair in the butter is numinous after all.

Thank you, Suzanne, for all you do for word lovers, and for letting me write a column in which I can finally use the word "numinous."

Blaize Clement

Visit Blaize's website at: www.BlaizeClement.com Email her at: [email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise these are five that deserve your attention: Steven James, The Pawn; Melody Carlson, An Irish Christmas; Emily Benedek, Red Sea; Noah Charney, The Art Thief; and Philip Donlay, Code Black. Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

READ THE CLASSICS: The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck and enter the free Penguin Classic's Drawing. Go to: http://tinyurl.com/25vbsy