Agent/Publisher News

My agent called me this afternoon with news about Despite Them.

Grace submitted my book to Avon, and to Berkley, which I didn't realize.

The really good new is that both publishers loved my writing and my story, which in of itself is AWESOME NEWS. However, both rejected Despite Them because of one crucial item.

Lack-luster characters.

It came as a surprise to me until Grace pointed out the fact that I was riding along thinking everyone had read the Eyes of Garnet trilogy, and already had all the background on the characters I used from that series.

Rejection can be taken many ways. I always use it as a tool to get better.

Here are the suggestions Grace gave me to WOW! the Publishers she'll submit to when I've revamped the book.

1) I need to pretend like I've never written the Eyes of Garnet trilogy, and start with fresh eyes to add the complex layers of my characters.

2) Please get Gregor laid!

Really, they asked that he get lucky at least once. And if that doesn't make you want to read the book, I don't know what will! ;o)

So I will set aside my 5th book, and go back to rewrite Despite Them, because the next set of publishers she'll submit to are Berkley (again), and Pocket Books, a division of Simon and Schuster!!! How can I NOT want to WOW! them!

I'll let you how I'm doing along the way.

Well, all except for the sex scene...

A Cosmic Thing

Today I went to a signing of a couple of Maine authors I've become friends with at the Fertile Mind Bookshop in Belfast, Maine. Great bookstore, and terrific owners, Bruce and LaRue always host a wonderful event.

I went because Janet Chapman just came out with another Highlander book, and I wanted it. It was quite busy when my husband and I walked in, but I found a seat, while my better half went over to talk with Bruce, being the only other male in the place.

Before Janet got to make her first sale, I was already signing one of my own books! Then the we all began talking about the business of writing, as well as tanning beds, campers, naps, and a wonderful herbal remedy to help clear the cobwebs of an overactive mind; SamE.

By the end of the visit (which turned into 2 hours!), I had signed and sold 7 of my books. All at someone else's book signing event!

Was it a cosmic configuration that enabled me to crash an event and make out better than when I do when I'm on the sign outside?

Perhaps.

But I just think great bookstore owners who know their buyers can "guide" those buyers to books they'll enjoy. And, boy can these two do that!

LaRue, thank you!

And Bruce, thanks for entertaining Dan while I do my thing.

Writing Season

As I begin the first few chapters of my fifth book, I find it difficult to concentrate. When the weather gets cold and snowy, my office is where I practically live, but when the crispness of the autumn air, the impossibly blue sky, and the multitude of brilliantly colored leaves taunt me from my office window, I just have to give in and get outside. There will be plenty of time yet to write.

This has turned into an especially brilliant year, attributing to the rather large quantities of rain throughout the summer. Berries are plump and plentiful.



And the usual maladies of blight on the leaves isn't so apparent.







The blueberry barrens, which are seen everywhere around this peninsula, are turning crimson, cranberry, vermillion and every other shade of red the eye can discern.



The coast comes alive with golden oaks, and vivid maples, mixed with the dark greens of the spruce. As the air becomes colder than the water, the vapor rises from the sea in fingers.





Then there's that one single tree that screams its brazen color, saying, "Look at me!"









Finally, the hardy asters chill under frosty nights, but continue blooming strong into November, adding to the colorful scenes.



So, dinna fret, the season is short and I'll be back in front of my computer very soon. Until then, when the weather's fine, I'll be taking advantage of the last of the season's beauty.

Despite Them Update

Here's an update to let everyone know what the status is of my fourth book, Despite Them with Gregor Macgregor.

It's in the hands of Avon Books a branch of Harper Collins—a pretty big fish in the book publishing world!

Don't be fooled by the fact that they print a lot of bodice-ripping Romance novels, they also print many other genres, but Scottish Romance is big business. And why wouldn't it be? Who out there doesn't love a rugged Highlander in a kilt?

Since I've bent and twisted my genre into something barely recognizable, my agent, Grace Morgan, says this is a good fit.

The company in which I could be keeping is terrific. Examples of the authors Avon publishes: Michael Crichton, Janet Dailey, Jim DeFelice, Mark Fuhrman, Patricia Gaffney, Neil Gaiman, Bartholomew Gill, Johanna Lindsey, and Sara Bennett, to name but a few.

So, all I have to do know is wait for the good news that Avon wants to pick up my book, and, with every good thought I can send them, offer me a multi-book deal. Not difficult, right?

Well, to keep my mind occupied with something else while the time trudges by, I've already completed the first chapter of the second Macgregor adventure (no title as yet). I'd love to tell you what it's going to be about, but I haven't a clue! ;o)

I'll keep you posted!

Single Malt Whisky Cake

Before I give you a terrific recipe that's sure to please (even if you don't imbibe in the Scottish nectar), I want to give you a wee bit o' history on the amber elixir.

First off is why you see whisky spelled two ways; one with an "ey" and one with just a "y".

The one true way to be certain that you are spending your money on a Scottish malt is whisky is spelled without an "e". In my opinion, as frugal as the Scots tend to be, they may have used this spelling so they are assured of getting a Scottish malt and not an Irish or American blend. No sense in wasting cold, hard-earned cash on something that's not the real deal, right?

But, Canadians, New Zealanders and the Japanese (honest!) also spell it the same as the Scottish, so be sure to read where it was distilled.

A Scottish single malt is always made from malted barley, whereas "whiskey" can be made from unmalted corn and other grains. The barley malt for Scotch whisky is first dried over fires that have been stoked with dried peat (a form of compacted grass and heather compost that is harvested from the moors). The peat smoke adds the distinctive smoky tang to the taste of the malt whisky, as does what type of barrel it's aged in.

The smoky-tasting Scotches tend to be aged in an oak barrel that's been smoked inside. Others are aged in sherry casks, lending its flavor to the brew.

Scotch Whisky Regions

The Highlands consist of the portion of Scotland north of a line from Dundee on the North Sea coast in the east to Greenock on the Irish Sea in the west, including all of the islands off the mainland except for Islay. Highland malt whiskies cover a broad spectrum of styles. They are generally aromatic, smooth and medium bodied, with palates that range from lushly complex to floral delicacy. The subregions of the Highlands include Speyside; the North, East and West Highlands; the Orkney Isles; and the Western Islands (Arran, Jura, Mull, and Skye).

The Lowlands encompass the entire Scottish mainland south of the Highlands except the Kintyre Peninsula where Campbeltown is located. Lowland malt whiskies are light bodied, relatively sweet, and delicate.

Islay is an island off the west coast. Traditional Islay malt whiskies are intensely smoky and pungent in character with a distinctive iodine or medicinal tang that is said to come from sea salt permeating the local peat that is used to dry the barley malt.

Campbeltown is a port located on the tip of the Kintyre Peninsula on the southwest coast that has its own distinctive spicy and salt-tinged malt whiskies.



I brought the infamous cake to an Equinox party last week (no, it wasn't one of those Pagan rituals where everyone dances around a bonfire naked. Thankfully!), and a young girl all of ten thought it was gingerbread.

Until she tasted it.

She handed it directly to her father, and said, "Dad, I don't think I'm supposed to be eating this."

He seemed to enjoy the fact that it wasn't gingerbread very much, as he was on his third piece when he told me the story.

Anyway, the following recipe has been praised by many, including wine distributors at the Wine and Food Festival in Blue Hill. I'll be there again October 18th at the Arborvine restaurant from 11:00-3:00 if you're in the neighborhood. One might ask why I would be a part of such a festival, and my answer is that my books sell best when found in places where a book is least expected to be. Plus, I can cook, and enjoy seeing the looks on people's faces when I ask them to sample my Single Malt Whisky Cake.

Single Malt Whisky Cake

2/3 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup water
1 stick real butter (Don't substitute here, please. Forego the waist for a real treat!)
3/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1 cup flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. nutmeg
1  1/2 tbsp. lemon juice
1/2 cup Single Malt Whisky (I've used Dalmore, Dalwhinnie, Glenfiddich and Glendronach with good results)
1 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Cover raisins with the water in a small pan and simmer until only 2 tbsps. of water remain. Let cool a bit.

Cream butter and sugar; add egg.

Stir in dry ingredients.

Add rest of liquids (including water from raisins) and mix well.

Fold in raisins and pour into a buttered 8 inch pan.

Bake at 350º for 30-40 minutes.

Enjoy!

Hooligans' Weekend, AKA The Highland Games

Sunday morning dawned with crisp air, frost on the fields and a clear blue sky. We set out early for Sugar Hill, north of Franconia, bound for Polly's Pancake Parlor. A real treat, if you're ever up that way.

As we drove through Franconia Notch, the fog had settled thickly in the valleys overnight, making the mountains look as though they were islands floating on an inland sea. Some of the maples were beginning to turn red and orange creating a vivid distraction as the sun struck the swamps.

It was a perfect ending to a terrific weekend at the Highland Games at Loon Mountain.

We hopped the shuttle bus early Friday morning and arrived at the clan tent before nine. It was cloudy and cold, with predictions of periodic showers during the afternoon. It felt as though it could have spit snow, but luckily, it didn't.



The crowds were non-existent, so it gave us a chance to actually see the goings-ons, and of course, buy trinkets and eat without waiting in lines that can stretch for 50 or 60 feet. We searched for tea and coffee then set out to explore the festivities.





After awhile, I settled into the clan tent and got down to the business of selling my books, as well as the factual historicals about the clan,  talking to people about the Donnachaidh history, and generally heckling those looking for a bit of…well, heckling. You can always tell those folks. They'll walk over with a mischievous look in their eye, then ask if this is the tent where they can get a wee dram of Scottish elixir. This usually means they're already well into the drink by then and are out looking to see what kind of trouble they can get into. Mind you, they can be men or women up for this task! The men wear Laphroaig hats; the fine single malt Scotch they've enjoyed at the Scotch Tastings. The women wear the "Official Kilt Inspector" t-shirts in search of…I don't know, shortest kilt, perhaps?

But mostly, it's people who want to talk about where they come from. We give them as much information as we can, sell them a book or two, a decal, a bit of Robertson ribbon, etc., and send them on their way.

Then there are those with stories they want to share.

Two sisters came up to me asking about their heritage. "We've got some of this clan, some of that clan, and oh, yeah, and some Campbell blood."

"Sssh!" I said, making them flinch. "You never want to say that in this tent, or many of the other tents, for that matter!"

"We've heard the stories," they assured me in a whisper. "Our mum's a true Campbell. Stubborn and nasty to the bone."

I couldn't help but laugh at their candor and say, "The Campbells stick together because no one else'll have them. You should stop in at their tent and introduce yourselves."

They looked at each other and shook their heads. "No, we're a little scared of what might happen," they said, still whispering.

Meanwhile, my husband was busy in his "Kept Man" t-shirt, advertising for my books and getting a lot of laughs, and even some promises to visit the tent to see what my books were all about. I was with him on one such occasion when a woman said she'd stop in. He said thank you and I stood there smiling. Then it dawned on me that I should have been the one to thank her and said as much. She just laughed.

At about 4:00 pm, we buttoned up the tent and secured it as well as we could. The wind had really started to pick up, so we all knew what that meant for unwary booth attendants. Overnight would be interesting.

Saturday morning, the wind was still gusty and we wondered what we'd find when we got to the tent. We had done a fine job of anchoring it, as it was still in place, but the tent masters, Doug and Sue Newton, and Herb and Mary Ann Dobbins said there was tent carnage all over the place when they arrived, nearly an hour before us. Some tents were ripped from their stakes in the tar and strewn all over the fairground. Flags, tartans, pamphlets—including raffle tickets to the Caribbean—tartan dog collars, and other interesting items flew around the clan village. It's a hard way to learn about the wind.

Saturday is the day where all the clans—63 all totaled—were to parade onto the field holding their standards high and shouting out their war cry as they're called. I was asked to participate this year! A real honor, as I'm not even Scottish. So four of us marched around clan village then onto the field. It's a brilliant display of tartans and costumes. Very fun.



Our clan's war cry is Fierce When Roused. It's been misprinted to read Fierce when Aroused, much to the delight of many. I had convinced Herb, Doug and Diane to say it the Gàidhlig, which is Garg 'n uair dhuisgear! This is pronounced GARG-en OOR GHOOSH-kar. They had been saying Garden Weasel. Sad, very sad.

So when Clan Donnachaidh was called we shouted it out, well, Herb said it in English, but we all shouted it proudly.

When the Campbells were called, a small group in the audience whoohoo'd, and the Historic Highlanders, the roughest of the bunch—barefooted and long-haired and carrying targes and broadswords—turned, as though practiced, drew their swords and held up their targes against the rebel clan. Even after hundreds of years, some Scots hold a grudge against them! I couldn't help but grin wondering how many others had seen the display.



Then, we marched back to our tent and I proceeded to sell my little heart out.

People of all ages are in the pipe bands. Here's an example of a young man getting a "tuneup."



Drummers practicing.



And the Royal Scots Guard was there with their beautiful uniforms and wonderfully decorated drums.



The "Heavies", the Highland athletes, toss the sheaf which weighs about 20 pounds, over the bar being held up by the lift.



And, they carry the stones. If two or more competitors carry the stones the entire length of the field, heavier stones are then used. In 2004 at the New Hampshire Highland Games, the record carry is a pair of stones weighing 508 pounds carried just under 100 feet.



Here are some other links to YouTube to experience at least a little of what goes on at the Games, such as the traditional pipers of the Massed Bands, the very non-traditional pipers of the Red Hot Chilli Pipers doing their rendition of Coldplay's, Clocks, and of course, Albannach just doing what they do.

Agent News

I got a call from my agent, Grace Morgan, friday about my Despite Them manuscript. Without beating around the bush, she said she loved it! What a load off my mind. You never really know what someone else is going to think about your story until they actually read it. She told me she liked the way I handled my characters and asked if there were going to be other stories in the Macgregor series. I told her I had a plan for at least four.

"Good," she said, "because that bitch at the end has got to go!"

I love that my characters evoke such emotion! You can cry along with them, or you can be pleased that they got what they deserved, and you can rage at them (and me) when I decide to leave the story hanging with the bad guy (or gal) remaining on the loose, enticing you to want more...

She did want to see a few minor changes, things that didn't quite make sense to her, so I spent the day yesterday flushing them out, making revisions, then printing all 309 pages over again.

She told me she's going to pitch Despite Them to Avon Books and Pocket Books first, as they do many of the Scottish stories. If the violence is too much for them, she'll try a few of the men's book publishers. I asked her if she thought I should tone down the graphic nature of the story, and she said, "Oh, hell no. This will sell just fine."

See why I love her?

So now it's another waiting game to see who will pick me up.

Today, we went to the sea to chill out for the morning. Here are a few photos of the tranquility of the coast of Maine.