Sometimes, when my friends ask what’s new in my life, I get a little head rush, like ‘where do I even begin to explain?’ That’s because amazing things have happened to me since we’ve last spoken. I’ve been to battle with dark forces, I’ve traveled to ancient, holy places, I’ve met a tantalizing young man, I’ve started a new University program abroad, I’ve met an octogenarian who has a secret he only wants to share with me, I’ve woken up in a cabin with my eyes bandaged with no idea how I got there or who I am. All of these newsworthy adventures take roughly one-tenth of a second to flash through my brain until I realize that these experiences are taking place between me and my characters in the fictional worlds I’ve created for them.
“I’ve been working on the garden,” I hear myself saying. Or “I rearranged all of the bookcases in the house by genre, so I have a mini bookstore at home.”
True, my real ‘shelter in place’ Corona Lock down life pales in comparison to that of the fictional characters I’m writing, or the tragedies unfolding for many in this very scary time. I’m grateful for my steady, predictable world, as it keeps me grounded so my characters can do the crazy stuff.
I was listening to a Masterclass by Judy Blume and she described how she would tell her family in the evening what was going on in her character’s lives.
“You’ll never guess what happened to Ruby today.”
It was such a revelation! Yes! That is exactly what’s going on inside of me. Like Judy, I’ve been on adventures during the day, and I want to tell someone about it.
I’m sharing all of this to say that I realize I haven’t actually shared any of my writing in over three years. So, as a token of appreciation for all of those who have read my books and wonder if I am actually writing anything at all, I’ve decided to share part one and two of a short story series I’m writing during this stranger than fiction world we’re now living in.
Just a bit of forewarning. It’s not a happy story. In fact, it’s inspired by the ‘Corona Parties’ that were happening at the beginning of the lock down, when people didn’t really understand what a world pandemic was.
Here’s the catch, members of my writing group have encouraged me to seek out a channel to publish this story and reach a wider audience. I’d like to do that, but I’d also like to share it with those who are interested in pre-reading it now, while it’s still relevant.
Would you like to read part one and part two? Then send me a personal message via the contact form with your email address, or send me a personal message via my author Facebook page, and I’ll send you a free, reviewers copy.
When I finished my workout this morning at Fit4Lady, I joined a few other post-workout women at the large table for a cup of coffee. On the table was a sign up sheet. I glanced at it, discovering it wasn’t a sign-up sheet after all, but a question: What made you smile today? The grammatical incorrectness of the gym name always makes me smile, but I couldn’t very well write that down without pissing off a whole lot of Dutch lady. The two girls at the table playing brain-teaser games while waiting for their mom to finish her workout had already made me smile, so I wrote that down. I was only the second to answer the question, but the day was still young.
Now that I’m home and preparing to start my work day as a writer, this question comes back to me in present form. What makes me smile? My puppy playing in the sunshine, my child, the gift of health, that first mug of coffee. These are all givens. But 2019 also puts a smile on my face. How can the concept of a year make you smile? In this case, it’s because of the label I have put on 2019. It is my gift year.
My gap year might have a deadline, but I’ve made a commitment to myself and to all the projects I undertake this year. I will not force you. I will let you develop at your own pace. Yet I promise to give you the attention and love and time that you deserve. It is up to you if you choose to be born.
Apparently, one episode of Somebody Feed Phil takes place in one of my favorite cities: Venice. As you may have gathered from my second novel 
If romance novels were animals, then Robert Gottlieb takes on the role of vivisectionist in this cruel and witty review, using his pen (okay, keyboard and fingers) to slash and dissect the romance genre. And it’s a blood bath, folks. Yes, he’s intelligent. And funny. No. I’m not writing grammatically correct sentences. But Gottlieb has pissed me off.
Yet there was one point in his romance roundup with which I fully agree: Nora Roberts is the Queen of Romance. It doesn’t seem to matter if it was written in the 80s, 90s or any time within the 21st century, I have enjoyed almost every Nora Roberts novel I’ve read (her romantic suspense ones can be a bit too brutal).
Author Kristin Anderson 