Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column - July 30, 2024

Dear Reader,

Today's guest author, Mary Fleming, is originally from Chicago, and moved to Paris in 1981, where she worked as a freelance journalist and consultant before turning full-time to writing fiction. Her previous novels are Someone Else and The Art of Regret. She chronicles her French life between Paris and the Perche (Normandy) in the photo-essay, A Paris-Perche Diary.

Mary's new novel is Civilisation Française: When recent college graduate Lily Owens enrolls in the Civilisation Française course at the Sorbonne in 1982, she hopes to put a difficult childhood behind her and to find direction for her future. She moves into a mansion on the place des Vosges where her job is to help the housekeeper, Germaine, care for the elderly, half-blind Amenia Quinon, another ex-pat American. The three women live alone in this old house of silence and secrets, mostly revolving in their own worlds. When Lily extends an invitation to a friend, all of their lives are upended.

Reach out to author Mary Fleming via Instagram: @flemingm6

SERENDIPITY

The first day of my freshman year, the college president welcomed our incoming class with a speech about serendipity, a word I did not know. I was so taken by the idea of 'the happiness of discovery' that I can still see myself leaning forward in that chapel pew, hanging on his every word.

Fully understanding the concept, though, is another matter, and it's possible the penny didn't fully drop until 30 years later in Paris. Late one evening, just after New Year, I went downstairs to walk Lily the Labrador. As I opened the door to the courtyard, out of the dark another dog came towards me with frightened, pleading eyes.

The building's gardienne didn't know where she came from, so I walked her, took her upstairs with Lily. From the tattoo in her ear (pet ID in France before the age of microchips), I had the name of the owner, but Madame C never answered my increasingly urgent messages.

My husband said: "There is no way we're keeping that dog." I could see his point. We already had one largish shedding creature and five children, quite enough to fill an urban household. But I couldn't hand her over to the pound. No one I approached wanted her.

In the meantime, the unnamed dog, who had the coat of a golden retriever and the body of Border collie, was not idle. She made a personal appeal to each member of the family. Paws on the lap, a lick of the face, an irresistibly penetrating, loving look, straight into the eye of the beholder, as if no one else in the world existed. She didn't even bark.

Despite the fact she was not housetrained, even my husband cracked. My daughter said: "Mum, it's fate."

Indeed. Elsa stayed.

She and Lily became great pals, and Elsa was as bereft as we were when Lily died. Though only obedient when she felt like it, her joie de vivre was irrepressible and highly contagious. Those eyes, that soft face, lit up the lives of everyone in her orbit. They spoke whole sentences. Right to the end we wondered if this enchanting creature of unknown origin was 100 per cent canine. In the countryside I was afraid she'd be taken for a fox and shot. At other times she seemed to possess traits of cats, deer, hares.

I don't know what I would have done without Elsa when we moved half-time to Berlin. She was the conduit through which I explored the city--was at the origin of the online Diary I began writing then and still write today. Her arrival in our courtyard that night turned out to be living proof of serendipity.

-- Mary Fleming

@flemingm6

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - July 23, 2024

Dear Reader,

Please welcome today's guest author Detective Kim Mager, a 30-year law enforcement officer, who retired from the Ashland City Police in 2022. Kim works for a prosecutor's office and still holds a law enforcement commission. She specializes in sex offenses, violent crime, and child abuse and has investigated over 2,000 cases. Kim has a BA from Ashland University and graduated Top Gun of her Police Academy. She is married to husband, Dan, and they have three children, Corbin, Macy, and Reed.

Kim's new true crime title (with Lisa Pulitzer) is, A Hunger to Kill: A Serial Killer, a Determined Detective, and the Quest for a Confession That Changed a Small Town Forever. In this fascinating and profoundly chilling account, Detective Kim Mager, a real-life version of Clarice Starling, reveals how she closed in on-and broke-one of Ohio's most infamous serial killers.

You could win one of three copies of A Hunger to Kill. Send an email with your preferred shipping address (in case you're a winner) to: [email protected]

Finding Solitude

 As a detective, I've spent 30 years interviewing victims of sex offenses and violent crimes. I've sat across from countless suspects and relentlessly pursued their confessions. There have been many times when I have felt like I was suffocating upon entering a scene or when hearing a victim recount their trauma. There never seemed to be a right time to process what I had seen and heard because It wasn't about me, it was about the job I had to do. It was impacting me incrementally and it wasn't apparent to me for most of my career. I spent all of my time looking ahead and focusing on what I needed to do next. I mistakenly believed that because my cases were successful, that was the measure of whether I was okay. I was so wrong.

I reside back along a lane that is so far off the road, you can't hear traffic. I'm surrounded by rolling hills, trees, and a moving creek. For the majority of my career, I took it all for granted. A while back, after a particularly difficult case, I found myself walking my property. I didn't have a plan--I just felt a strong need to go. I walked until I found a small, grassy area between a pine grove and a hardwood forest. I sat down on the ground next to a century-old fallen tree with outgrown roots. I looked around and was taken by the natural beauty surrounding me. I became quiet and still. I felt so small and alone, almost apprehensive. I was afraid to even think because I feared losing control. I looked all around, with an unusual awareness. I could see the sun breaking through the trees, in glowing rays. I could smell the earthy decay of the forest floor, and I noticed the distinct scent of the walnut trees. Birds were rhythmically calling to each other and two squirrels were effortlessly jumping tree-to-tree. I could hear the water rippling over the river rock in the shallow creek. I had lived in the midst of all of that, but on that day, it was different. 

I sat in silence, in a state of repressive coping. After a long pause, I slowly submitted and allowed myself to cautiously reflect. I stayed there for hours, giving thought to my cases, my family, my faith, and my purpose. I began to consciously focus on connecting with myself. I started to feel less alone. It felt surreal. I then realized I had been missing something. I didn't know I was looking for it, but I had found it--solitude. I found a space where I could connect exclusively with myself. A place where I could breathe. 

I now recognize the importance of encouraging others to find solitude. It doesn't have to be in the middle of a forest; it can be anywhere. It's simple, yet profound. Solitude is a state of being alone without feeling lonely. Solitude allows us to stay grounded and reconnect with ourselves. It lets us find calmness and inner focus. It's so critical to our well-being.

Although it took many years, I'm so thankful for the ability to reflect.

I'm drawn to that peaceful spot.

-- Kim Mager

You could win one of three copies of A Hunger to Kill Send an email with your preferred shipping address (in case you're a winner) to: [email protected]

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - July 16, 2024

Dear Reader,

Today's guest, Laura Pritchett, is the author of seven novels. Known for championing the complex and contemporary West and giving voice to the working class, her books have garnered the PEN USA Award, the Milkweed National Fiction Prize, the WILLA, the High Plains Book Award, and others. She's also the author of two nonfiction books, one play, and edited three environmental-based anthologies. She directs the MFA in Nature Writing at Western Colorado University. When not writing or teaching, she's generally found exploring the mountains of her home state of Colorado.

Laura's new book is Three Keys...Newly widowed and unemployed, a woman in her mid-fifties sets off on a journey of trespassing and adventure through the American West and beyond in this witty, thought-provoking novel.

See the details below about how you could win one of five signed copies of Three Keys.

Welcome to the book club Laura...

I somewhat shyly admit it: During the pandemic, I became a bit of a "prepper." At night, I occupied my brain by considering what to do if the water supply fritzed--fill bathtubs and pans at first opportunity! In the day, I added fruit trees to my little orchard in the foothills of Colorado's Rocky Mountains--peaches would feed my family! It doesn't take an expert to see what my brain and heart were doing--I was scared, I wanted some control and sense of safety in uncertain times.

As someone who grew up on a ranch, and with brothers who took me camping, I have some of that how-to knowledge. I know where wild asparagus grows, I can catch and cook a fish. But the pandemic had me contemplating all that I do not know, which is plenty, and take for granted, which is even more. Didn't we all ponder our access to electricity and water and fuel (and even toilet paper!)?

My nervous system has since calmed. But I don't regret this time of what some might call neurotic and loopy behavior. For me, it was clarifying. For one thing, I have a bigger orchard, and apricots and peaches are on their way! For another thing, I've sat with my mortality, the transience of things, and my fears. While I recognize I likely need cortisol-free calm more than I need fishing line and water purifiers, I now have both.

I know I'm not alone in this. Enrollment in survival courses has increased dramatically since covid--everything from urban survival, naturalist schools, and outdoor survival camps--and learning, or re-learning, some of this is not a totally bad idea. Self-sufficiency can lead to empowerment, even as we recognize that we are dependent upon our community. My new book, The "Three Keys" came out of this push-pull between independence and dependence.

And at the end of the day, who doesn't like a good survival story? Whether in real life or in fiction, it's one of the greatest human endeavors: To get scrappy, think our way out of unique scenarios, overcome the odds, and to feel like we are sturdy souls, capable of strengths we didn't know we had. And sometimes, we get some extra fruit to boot.

What makes you feel empowered? I love to hear from readers and you can find me at [email protected]. I'm giving away 5 signed copies of my book, Three Keys so drop me a line.

-- Laura Pritchett

www.laurapritchett.com

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - July 10, 2024

Dear Reader,

Please welcome today's guest author, Dr. Kathleen Sheppard. She is a Professor in the History and Political Science department at Missouri S&T in Rolla, Missouri. She has spent her whole career telling the life stories of women in Egyptology. Her most recent book, Women in the Valley of the Kings: The Untold Story of Women Egyptologists in the Gilded Age is a grand retelling of the history of Egyptology through the work that women did.

Enter the drawing to win one of three copies of Women in the Valley of the Kings. Send an email with your preferred shipping address (in case you're a winner) to: [email protected]

Welcome to the book club, Kathleen...

She'll Have Fun, Fun, Fun...Or Will She?

For some, running is a type-2 kind of fun. You know the kind: you don't like it while you're doing it, but you have good memories once it's over. For me, running is a mix of type-2 and type-1 fun. It is the kind of activity that you enjoy in the moment (which makes you want to keep doing it), but it can also make you miserable. So, I keep running both for the pleasure of it and the stories to tell later.

One of my favorite running events is a four-day series of races, beginning with a 5K the first day, then a 10K, then a half marathon, then a full marathon on the last day, for a total of 48.6 miles run in four days. Called the Dopey Challenge, the event is associated with a major theme park in Florida (ahem) and their tagline is "Every Mile is Magic." Despite the completely 'accurate' moniker and the outright lies in the tagline, I've done this series twice, 10 years apart. I was far too tired after the first time to try it again too soon. Was it dopey to do? Twice? Yes, probably. Will I do it again? Yes, probably.

Where else would you find yourself slogging through a two-mile loop in a desolate parking lot with no cover during a torrential downpour, only to have the skies clear for your run up Main Street, USA, while a princess castle looks down on you? In what other race could you high-five an anthropomorphized mouse, only to cross the finish line carrying a pretzel shaped like said mouse's head while a church choir belts out songs from beloved children's films?

Toward the end of the marathon this year, I was at mile 45 out of 48.6 total for the weekend, and I saw a sign that asked, "Is every mile still magic?" I made eye contact with the person holding the sign, laughed, and said: "Absolutely not." The person nodded solemnly and replied: "I knew it."

But each mile really was magic, in its own way. True to type-2 fun, I've sort of forgotten about the misery and only remember the good times, and I hope to be that way about most things.

-- Kathleen Sheppard

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

Enter the drawing to win one of three copies of Women in the Valley of the Kings. Send an email with your preferred shipping address (in case you're a winner) to: [email protected]

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - July 9, 2024

Dear Reader,

It's a Classics day!

Today you can sample this month's Penguin Classic and enter the drawing to win your own copy. This month's Penguin Classic is The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing 25th-Anniversary Edition (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition) by Melissa Bank, Foreword by Nick Hornby.

Start reading (below) and enter for your chance to win. 

(From the Publisher:)

The New York Times bestselling classic of a young woman's journey in work, love, and life… 

Generous-hearted and wickedly insightful, The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing maps the progress of Jane Rosenal as she sets out on a personal and spirited expedition through the perilous terrain of sex, love, relationships, and the treacherous waters of the workplace. Soon Jane is swept off her feet by an older man and into a Fitzgeraldesque whirl of cocktail parties, country houses, and rules that were made to be broken, but comes to realize that it's a world where the stakes are much too high for comfort. With an unforgettable comic touch, Bank skillfully teases out universal issues, puts a clever new spin on the mating dance, and captures in perfect pitch what it's like to come of age as a young woman.

Start reading this month’s Penguin Classic and enter to win your own copy.

 

Today I'm sharing one of my favorite columns…

Four years ago a hungry, tuckered-out, feral, orange tabby showed up on my porch. He was a feisty little guy but with good reason. Somewhere along the way folks had let him down. The pain and mistreatment he'd suffered, I could see it in his eyes. He kept his distance, but soon…

To read the rest of today's heartfelt Goldie column and to see photos, go to: https://www.dearreader.com/goldie/

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - June 25, 2024

Dear Reader,

Please welcome to the book club New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Shelley Shepard Gray. She published over a hundred books with over two million books in print, and translated into more than a dozen languages.  Shelley currently lives in northern Ohio, walks her dogs, bakes too much and writes full time.

Her new book is A is for Amish the launch of a new series. In this first installment, a brother and sister in their twenties contemplate leaving their very modern lives for a simpler one. They decide to move in with their Amish grandparents for a year, expecting to either become Amish or hurry home to their regular lives. What they don't expect, is to learn a bit about themselves, love, and faith.

Enter Shelly's drawing for a chance to win one of five copies of A is for Amish. Email: [email protected]

7:30 A.M.

For the last year, for 15 months to be exact, I've been out walking at 7:30 in the morning. This is kind of a big deal for me. Not because it's early-I know it's not. But because about ten years ago, when my husband and I became empty nesters, I decided that my mornings would involve a fluffy robe, a hot cup of coffee, and the couch. My daughter had been on the swim team for years. That meant I had gotten up with her at 4:30 so she could practice before school. Sitting around in pajamas and a robe had been a long-awaited luxury.

And then, a little over a year ago, we adopted Sophie. Sophie is a very blonde, very sweet dog. We *think* she's half-beagle and half-lab. My husband and I took our little dachshund to a parking lot a couple of towns over to meet some dogs from a nearby shelter. We'd recently lost my beloved beagle Eddie and I was desperate for a doggy companion again. Anyway, we drove to the site, fully intending to get ‘Alvin', a goofy, adorable one year old beagle mix. And then I saw Sophie.

Sophie was three and she'd recently had surgery on both of her back legs. She'd been born with a deformity and her original owner had never fixed them. A rescue organization paid to get her legs fixed.

When we saw Sophie, she was only a couple of weeks post-surgery. Sophie had no fur on the whole backside of her body, awful scars on her knees, and was as timid as you might imagine. She also has the sweetest brown eyes and I knew that we had to have her.

By the time we lived with Sophie one week, I knew a couple of things for sure. I already loved this dog--and she had her own way of doing things. She liked to put herself to bed at 9:00 at night. She also didn't want to sleep in our bedroom, she liked to be by herself in the laundry room. But most of all, she loved to go on a walk at 7:30 in the morning. Rain or shine. And, because we live in northern Ohio, that also meant in the snow. Or when it was below zero.

We've adopted a lot of dogs. I love giving them homes. But with each adoptee, I've learned that each one comes with its own set of baggage. They might be scared of one thing or love something unusual. 

I've learned that it's best to adjust to these quirks instead of trying to change them. I've always figured these dogs have already had to adjust to enough. But even after all of those adjustments and all the dogs we've had (Sophie is #6), we've never had an animal who loved a schedule more than me. Until Sophie. I guess it was time.

That's why, this morning, when my alarm went off at 7, I rolled out of bed, bypassed my robe, and turned on the coffee maker. I put on a pair of sweats, a pair of tennis shoes and, at 7:20, I opened the laundry room door. There was Sophie, sitting quietly with an expectant look on her face. "Ready to walk?" I asked. Her answer was to stand up, stretch, and walk to the front door. As I put on her leash, I couldn't help but notice that her fur is silky and soft. She walks just fine now and with no pain. And as we start on our way, a leash in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, I decided that I wasn't missing my lazy mornings much at all. Over the past year, this morning walk had become something I looked forward to.

Like my four year old dog Sophie, I had adapted to life once again.

-- Shelley Shepard Gray

Enter the drawing for a chance to win one of five copies of A is for Amish. Email: [email protected]

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - June 11, 2024

Dear Reader,

A Colorado author and essayist, Patricia Raybon writes daring and exciting novels at the intersection of faith and race, and she's this week's guest author.

Patricia's devotional writing appears in 'Our Daily Bread,' where she's a regular contributor. She also authors the Annalee Spain Mysteries, a "history mystery" series featuring a young Black theologian who solves crime during Colorado's dangerous 1920s Klan years. She has won both the Christy Award and the Christianity Today Book of the Year award for her fiction. A former newspaper journalist and journalism faculty member at the University of Colorado at Boulder, Patricia and her husband, Dan, a retired educator, have two grown daughters.

Patricia's latest book in the Annalee Spain series is Truth Be Told: On a lovely June night in 1924, amateur detective Annalee Spain is mingling bravely at a high-class political fundraiser in the lush backyard garden of famed political fixer, Cooper Coates, one of the wealthiest men in Denver's Black neighborhood of Five Points. When Coates's young daughter discovers a pretty stranger dead in her father's garden shed, Annalee is thrust onto the baffling new case just as she's reeling from another recent discovery-a handwritten letter, found buried in her own garden, that reveals the identity of her mother.

Meet Patricia at: patriciaraybon.com and contact her via: https://www.patriciaraybon.com/contact/

Please welcome back to the book club author Patricia Raybon…

On Staying Planted

They bounce. A little showy perhaps, but never too much. Our lilac bushes, after this winter, sported their bumper harvest with grace–waving at the wind with their fragrant, lovely branches. The flowers were so lush and sweet-smelling they seemed too grand for our humble Colorado backyard.

I grabbed my phone and took a video. Friends and family loved it.

The bigger news, however, wasn't our lilacs' beauty. It was their backstory.

Or, can you say lawn guy? A man with an ax? We'd only known him a year, far less than the 27 years since we'd planted the lilacs--by faith, of course. Lilac plantings are little more than sticks. Five little sticks, in our case. Sad-looking twigs, they offer only straggly roots as promise of the greenery that, at some point, might grow.

Indeed, I'd never grown lilacs. I just fondly recalled them from childhood. Every Denver yard seemed to ripple with lilac clusters. Lilacs adore full sun, and Colorado gets oodles of it. Walking to school with neighborhood pals, I'd tempt fate--and grouchy homeowners--by running across yards with daring friends to plant my face in lilac blossoms, breathing in the luscious scent.

Now a grownup myself, looking to landscape a small yard with my husband, I'd walked into a garden center and saw "lilacs." Yep, those sticks. Dan and I bought five, planting them along our back fence, spaced about three feet apart.

Then we stood back and let them grow. We never fussed. Never fertilized. We pruned only once. But those lilacs thrived. By age 27, they were tall, lush, and showy. Out came my phone. Photos galore. Then came our lawn guy.

Hardworking and earnest, he offered one summer day to trim our lilacs. Sure, I said, leaving him to it. An hour later, I came out back and wilted. Our lilacs were stubs. Five sticks. "What happened!" I cried.

He waved away my worry. "They'll be fine."

They weren't. Three years went by with barely a blossom. Powdery mildew struck. Then one year they perked up. Taller. More blooms. This year they truly shone. And to think I'd considered digging them all up and tossing them out as yard trash.

But they just needed time--to rebound. And for me to trust that God isn't finished with them yet.

The same is true, I suppose, for all of us. Some years may look bare and barren. But stay planted.

A lush harvest of grace and beauty is close at hand.

-- Patricia Raybon

https://www.patriciaraybon.com/contact/

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - June 4, 2024

Dear Reader,

Please welcome today's guest author, Lisa Wingate. 

Lisa is the author of the #1 New York Times bestseller Before We Were Yours, which has sold more than three million copies and been translated into over forty languages worldwide. The co-author, with Judy Christie, of the nonfiction book Before and After, Wingate is an Oklahoma Book Award finalist and a Southern Book Prize winner. She was named a 2023 Distinguished Alumni of Oklahoma State University. Lisa lives with her husband in Texas and Colorado.

Her brand new book is Shelterwood...a sweeping novel inspired by the untold history of women pioneers who fought to protect children, caught in the storm of land barons hungry for power and oil wealth.

Please say "Hello" and welcome Lisa to the book club: [email protected]

 

 

Be sure to enter-to-win the Shelterwood Book Club Gift Box which includes a letter from the author, printed book club kit, bookmark, and custom sticker inspired by the novel. To enter, go to: https://www.emailbookclub.com/firstlook/shelterwood.htmlg

 

 

Years ago, I interviewed a woman who couldn't read for first two-thirds of her life. I met her as the result of a college class that had been mundane for the first seven weeks. On week eight, the instructor whisked in carrying a newspaper article about an elderly World War II veteran who'd been found in a house with no electricity, no running water, no air conditioning, and no heat other than a gas stove. Criminals had broken into the home intending a robbery, but there was nothing to steal.

The instructor told us to write a newspaper piece about someone living on the margins. Then he walked out, leaving fifty college sophomores floundering like fish in a dry lakebed.

Through a few connections, I ended up at a mission shelter interviewing a small, thin woman with sun-pleated skin and silver dreadlocks bound in a multicolored bandana. To me, she looked at least eighty, but she reckoned that she was around sixty-nine. She'd traveled to Florida on a small boat as a child. The adult who was with her--a relative she thought--had not survived the trip. When the boat came ashore, it was met by traffickers who hustled cheap labor for sugar cane farms, where the workers would remain in an endless state of indenture, always in debt for their meals and housing.

This was the childhood of the smiling woman on the stool across from me. She'd escaped the farm as a young adult by sneaking away amid the chaos and smoke when stubble was burned off the fields. Years on the run followed, as she feared being arrested for her unpaid debt.

Eventually, she ended up in a shelter program, where she did odd jobs and through their literacy initiative, learned to read.

She'd been there for several years, working and living at the shelter, by the time I met her. Every day after washing loads of dishes and mopping floors, she'd walk to the subsidized daycare next

door and read to the kids. Her eyes held the most vibrant light as she talked about the importance of those sessions. "When you can't read, all around you there are line pictures," she said. "On street signs. In restaurants. In stores. In books. Everybody else looks at the line pictures, and sees a tree, or a cat, or a sky. You can't understand how that looks like a cat or a tree. The lines make other people hear thunder, or wind, or a voice saying something. But you look at the lines, and you see nothing, hear nothing. The lines don't speak. Then you learn to read, and the lines tell you everything."

To this day, those words remain with me, not only an inspiration but an indelible testament to the power of lines that form words, and words that fill pages, and pages that create stories, and stories that build worlds.

-- Lisa Wingate

Be sure to enter-to-win the Shelterwood Book Club Gift Box which includes a letter from the author, printed book club kit, bookmark, and custom sticker inspired by the novel. To enter, go to: https://www.emailbookclub.com/firstlook/shelterwood.html

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - May 21, 2024

Dear Reader,

Please welcome today's guest author, Susan Elia MacNeal. 

Susan is the New York Times bestselling author of the Maggie Hope mysteries, Mother Daughter Traitor Spy and Mr. Churchill's Secretary, which is now in its 23rd printing. MacNeal won the Barry Award and an AudioFile Earphones award and has been nominated for the Edgar, Macavity, Agatha, Left Coast Crime, Dilys, ITW Thriller, and Nero awards. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and son.

Susan's new book is The Last Hope: All will be revealed in this no-holds-barred finale, the Maggie Hope series, as the intrepid spy teams up with fashion designer--and possible double agent--Coco Chanel to bring down the physicist behind Nazi Germany’s nuclear program.

Find out more at http://www.susaneliamacneal.com/

Please welcome Susan Elia MacNeal…

I'm writing this on the road, away from my home in New York City, traveling solo--one of my favorite things to do, even though I'm married and have a son (who's away at his freshman year of college!). I was lucky enough to be asked to speak to a mystery group in Portland, Oregon, one of the places long on my bucket list. On a whim, I extended my stay for a few days in Portland. I met up with friends, hiked, went to the Japanese, Rose, and Chinese gardens, ate oysters and Voodoo doughnuts (not together), and caught up with dear friends from all eras of my life.

Yesterday, instead of traveling home, I cancelled my flight and jumped on the train to Seattle.

While I do miss my husband and my cat (and my son, but that's a different piece), I'm relishing the chance to spread my wings and test myself. As a wife and a mom, I find I'm always on someone else's schedule. Traveling alone, I can choose for myself. There's also time to read, to think, to not think, to dream.

When you step out of your routine, there's a real chance for self-care. You're thrown out of your habits, negotiating and navigating new situations on your own. You learn to discern and provide for what you really need, instead of caring for everyone else. I find myself developing new ways of thinking, of looking at the world, of being capable, and with that, the reminder of the woman I am besides being a wife and mom. And, with that, a new-found confidence.

Traveling means meeting new people, strangers, of course, but also people from our past. Who are they now? And who are we now with them? There's the joy in reuniting-and there's also the view we have of our younger self. How far we've come and how different we are now. It's a new perspective I cherish.

Here in Seattle, I'm working and writing (with my trusty laptop, I'm good!), but I'm also exploring. Seeking. Searching. I'm not exactly sure what I'm looking for, but I know on this trip, I'm finding it. And, when I'm ready, I'll be able to take everything home with me and share with those I love.

Thank you for reading and happy trails--

-- Susan Elia MacNeal

http://www.susaneliamacneal.com/

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected] 

Dear Reader Column - May 15, 2024

Dear Reader,

Today's guest author is Amanda Eyre Ward, The New York Times bestselling author of The Jetsetters (Reese's Book Club pick), The Lifeguards and her new book, Lovers and Liars.

Amanda publishes nonfiction in Travel + Leisure, The New York Times, Texas Monthly, and more, and publishes original work on Audible.com. Amanda's work has been optioned for film and television and translated into fifteen languages. She lives in Austin, TX with her family.

Lovers and Liars, is about a librarian in love: Three wildly different sisters reunite for a destination wedding at an English castle in this heartfelt and rollicking novel.

Send an email to [email protected] to tell me about your writing habits, favorite books, and to enter a sweepstakes for a free copy of Lovers and Liars! I'm looking forward to hearing from you.

Please welcome Amanda Eyre Ward to the book club…

Recently, I heard a writer I admire (it was Ann Patchett) talk about her treadmill desk. While walking, she said, she finds herself able to slip deeply into her work. Since three of my favorite books in the world are written by Patchett (Tom Lake, Bel Canto, and The Dutch House), I went home from hearing her speak and opened my laptop. On Craigslist, I found a used treadmill desk. I bought it.

During the pandemic, when my three children and husband were all home all the time, I took my notebook and coffee mug to a dilapidated garden shed behind our house. I was filled with joy at being alone with the shovels and weed whacker.

Later, we drywalled and painted the shed and added AC and electricity. I told my next-door neighbor, Jorjanna, that I had made a "writing cottage" in the backyard.

Jorjanna said, "What, you mean the Cat House?"

Jorjanna explained that the woman we had bought our house from over a decade ago kept fifteen cats in the shed, hence the name. This knowledge definitely took the shine off my "writing cottage," but I persevered. Sometimes, I wonder what happened to those fifteen cats.

After I bought the treadmill desk, I hired four strong guys to pick it up and wrestle it into the Cat House. I plugged it in, perched my notebooks and computer on top, and began to stride and type. I hated every minute and misspelled every word. My two mini schnauzers glared at me: if I was walking, why weren't they on their leashes exploring the sights and smells of the neighborhood?

For a few weeks, I got back in bed after my family had left for the day, and wrote well, a schnauzer snuggled on either side of me, but eventually this hunched situation made my shoulders ache. I spent a month or so at my old desk, now crammed next to the treadmill desk in my cat cottage. 

Finally, feeling squished, I tried climbing aboard the treadmill again. I put on headphones and played Billy Joel loudly. (You can take the 90's girl out of New York, but you can't take the 90's New York out of the girl.)

I walked briskly and tried to type, at first losing my place as the treadmill pulled me this way and that. But even off-kilter, I was able to hear my characters. Eventually, I forgot that I was on a treadmill. I didn't know I was walking or what I was listening to. I saw only what my character, Chloe, saw, and I wrote what she thought and smelled and tasted and when she dove into an ocean far from Austin, TX, I felt the water on my skin.

I did not wake up from my writing dream until one of the schnauzers barked so loudly I had to give her a dental chew.

It does usually take me a cup of coffee to walk long enough that my novel takes over my mind. I often spill the coffee, and my pages are filled with misspellings. But I do feel as if the treadmill enables me to submerge more deeply into my story than when I used to sit at a desk.

So most mornings, you can find me walking and working in the ol' Cat House.

The schnauzers do not approve.

-- Amanda Eyre Ward

Send an email to [email protected] to tell me about your writing habits, favorite books, and to enter a sweepstakes for a free copy of Lovers and Liars! I'm looking forward to hearing from you.

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

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]