I hate it…I hate it…I hate it. Kind of bad thing considering where I live. Snow is just part of the deal. At least I’ll get a bit of a respite when I head to San Antonio next month. A little sunshine, a nice walk around the Riverwalk, and some great food. Then the snow won’t seem quite so bad.
Bridge of Souls
Ta Da…
At long last, BRIDGE OF SOULS, is here. It’s great that it hits in October considering it is one of my favorite months with Halloween and all! If you liek ghosts (and really–who doesn’t?), take a peek at this new romance.
BRIDGE OF SOULS
By Sheri Lewis Wohl
Available from The Wild Rose Press, www.thewildrosepress.com
Excerpt:
At the door to her apartment, she stopped and turned to face him. “Thank you so much for everything.”
His eyes looked deep into hers and she was almost afraid he would see the blue behind the mask of brown. A tiny smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “No, thank you, Anna Koch, you have brought so much into my life these last few weeks.”
His hands came up to touch her face. His fingers caressed her cheeks, rough against her soft skin. The scent of his cologne wrapped around her. She didn’t move away. He leaned forward and his lips touched hers in a kiss that sent waves sliding down her back. “Goodnight, sweet Anna.”
She touched his cheek, the dark stubble stiff and warm against her fingertips. A sigh escaped as her tongue met his. Slowly, she drew away. Turning, Adrian opened the door and stepped inside. “Goodnight, Jason.”
© 2009 Sheri Lewis Wohl
All Rights Reserved
Buy it Now: http://alturl.com/u354
Welcome Anida Adler
Welcome to fellow Loose Id author Anida Adler
The Ancient
now available from Loose Id
My Secret Obsession
Analysis of an unhealthy preoccupation with apostrophes.
“Gasp! Look!”
Micky, my husband, stopped short in the middle of the aisle. He looked this way and that for a streaker, a couple copulating right there on the floor or someone who’d set their hair on fire. From the scandalised tone of my voice, whatever it was I saw had to be of at least that magnitude. Not finding any obvious rubberneck-worthy flaunting of the basic rules of human behaviour, he turned back to me. “What?”
I pointed a shaking finger at the cause of my distress. “That sign, there on the shelf. It says ‘Apple’s now half price’.”
He inspected the sign for any additional information, such as hidden code for the precise date of the apocalypse or some other revalation of equal magnitude. Finding none, he turned his gaze back to me. “So?”
”So it’s a plural. You don’t use an apostrophe S with a plural. Unless there’s just one apple that’s half price and the rest are normal price. In which case it should read: “This apple’s now half price.’ And there are better ways to say it.”
Micky gave me that special look he has perfected over fourteen years of putting up with me. It’s a unique combination of emotions and opinions, all rolled into a slight lift of the eyebrow and a half-smile, half-grimace. “Ah.” That’s another talent fourteen years of marriage to me has given him: the power to invest an essay’s worth of meaning into a two-letter word.
I have no idea why I’m so obsessed with apostrophes. I know it’s silly, and I know I probably irritate people with my pernickety-ness. Alas, I’ve tried in vain to overcome my preoccupation. Whether I’m cycling, shopping, visiting friends, every area of my life is invaded by apostrophes, or the lack of them.
Living a stone’s throw from the border between Ireland and Northern Ireland (the latter being a part of the United Kingdom), I drive to Newry for my weekly shopping, making use of the current favourable exchange rate between Euros and Sterling to save a few bob. You wouldn’t guess, were you to visit me and I take you to Newry, that you pass from one country to another. You can only tell you’re in the UK when you see the speed limit posted in miles per hour as opposed to kilometres per hour. A big, smooth highway runs through the mountain pass where, according to legend, Cuchullain delayed queen Maebh’s army in the cattle raid of Cooley. He’d be hard pressed to do the same today, especially if queen Maebh hired an eighteen-wheeler.
Me, I drive my little dark blue hatchback the sixteen kilometres to Newry, same as everyone else from Dundalk who goes shopping there. Where things change is once I’m in Newry, heading for the nearest supermarket. Unlike everyone else, I turn right just before the main entrance to the parking lot and drive along a narrow road to the back entrance. Why? Well. Right at the big intersection where you’d turn right to the parking lot, on two walls, there are two banners. Big ones. The first proclaims: Your Euro’s go further at XYZ mall! The second invites: Come and see whats inside!
”So?” I can hear you say. And if you were here, I’m sure you’d cast Micky a sympathetic glance.
Well, on the first banner, Euros is a plural, and therefore should not have an apostrophe S. On the second banner, what’s is a contraction of ‘what is’, and therefore should have an apostrophe S. To crown it all, the traffic light at that specific intersection is a bastard, it always catches me. I’m always forced to sit there in my car, trying not to look at the double calamity looming over me on the left, while the sadistic traffic light withholds the green that will save me from the torture with what I’m sure is a machine version of a cruel laugh. I hear it in my head, I swear.
Recently I visited my good friend, the composer Lewis Smith, in Belfast. We went to Kelly’s Cellars, a gorgeous, low-ceilinged old pub that makes you feel you’ve stepped back to the smoky past when you enter its wooden door. As you do, I quaffed some lager, and soon needed the loo. And there the sunny sky of my much enjoyed visit acquired a dark cloud. For over the short passage leading to the toilet, there was a handwritten, cardboard sign. It read:
Ladies toilet
When I returned to our table, Lewis could see something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”
”The sign showing where to go for the loo. It has a missing apostrophe.”
He went to see. “No, it doesn’t.”
”Yes, it does. It should have an apostrophe after the S.”
A long argument ensued, which involved much consumption of alcohol and a lot of scribbling on a torn-open box that the aspirin in my handbag had to sacrifice for the sake of good grammar. Eventually, Lewis was convinced. He shrugged and took another sip of beer. “Go change it, then.”
”What?” Having grown up not only in another country, but speaking another language, I sometimes misunderstand Lewis’ Belfast drawl.
”Go change it,” he said again. “You have a pen there, go on.”
My heartbeat quickened. How often I’d dreamed of stealing to advertising boards speaking of ‘Mens Fashions’ in the middle of the night, climbing up on a ladder and painting in the missing apostrophe. Or pretending to tie my shoelace beside the stand at the restaurant’s door and blacking out the superfluous one in ‘Chicken Wrap’s’. Here was my chance to live out my fantasy, to correct the wrong done to an innocent word. I looked this way and that, but it was late and everyone was too busy drinking to pay me any attention. Clutching my pen in my hand, I strolled to the passage with the abomination stuck over it. Quick as a flash, I stood on tip-toes and drew an apostrophe into the right place.
Liberated, elated, I sat back down beside Lewis. “I did it!” I crowed.
”Well done.” He winked at me and raised a pint to my weird obsession.
I’m thinking of carrying a big, black marker in my handbag from now on. But don’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want them to think I’m strange.
*******
In keeping with the Irish theme of her story, Anida will be giving away a Shannon O’Shamrock bear to one randomly drawn commenter from the tour.
Be sure to check out Anida’s book The Ancient at www.loose-id.com/prod-The_Ancient-1010.aspx
At long last
I hate to say I have computer issues but my laptop has been down for two weeks and I almost needed therapy to get through! It’s not like I didn’t have computer access because I do have a very nice PC. It just isn’t the same. My laptop is such a big part of my daily routine that I was having withdrawals. But at last the warranty replacement part came through and I am reunited with my lovely Vaio once again. Sigh….
Book-A-Day
It’s party time over at Lena Matthews’ yahoo group http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lenamatthews/
Wednesday, August 26, 2009 is my day and you’ll have a chance to be entered into a drawing for your choice of one of my ebooks. All you have to do is visit Lena’s group for all the details. It will be fun and easy…I promise!
It’s a good day for me to be featured as August 26th is my Dad’s birthday. Dad is no longer here with us though I like to think his spirit is. He died before I sold my first book but to make sure he didn’t miss out, I included him in each book. How, you ask? Easy, he’s the Lewis in Sheri Lewis Wohl. Dad was taken from us far too early and I’m sad he wasn’t here to share the joy when I signed that first contract. Still, it makes me smile when I see each cover with the name Lewis right there for everyone to see. I owe a great deal to both my parents and putting their name of the covers of my books is just my way of saying thanks.
I hope you all have a chance to stop by Lena’s group tomorrow and…
Happy Birthday Dad!
I love reviewers!
So I get up this morning to a Google alert there’s a new review for NECURATUL 2: RASPUTIN’S RAGE. Way fun considering it came out last year. To top it all off, it got 4.5 hearts! YAY. Of course, I am a little partial. I love the characters in the trilogy. Especially Cat. If only I could be as tough. You know kick ass and take names…
Anyway, if you’ve got a minute, take a look at what SamanthaAnn has to say over at Night Owl Romance. http://www.nightowlromance.com/nightowlromance/reviews/reviewsearch.aspx
Happy Wednesday!
North to Alaska
Well I’m back from our great northern State of Alaska. What a beautiful place. The mountains are spectacular and the people so friendly. Now the fact it doesn’t get dark until really late is a bit strange. When you’re outside at 10:00 pm and it’s still daylight is just plain odd. It was a great trip even if it was rainy and overcast. Of course, it’s 90 plus here at home so the 60 degree weather and light rain was a pleasant change.
But now I’m home and back to work. Deadlines to meet and stories to write. And how was your July?
RWA Nationals
Janet Evanovich
Wow is all I can say. A couple thousand writers, all the romance publishers, workshops galore. It’s so much fun and overwhelming at the same time. It’s been more years than I’m willing to admit since I attended Nationals last and it’s all coming back to me now. Janet Evanovich was the keynote speaker on day one and what a great speaker. Since I had to show up in an ankle splint due to a confrontation with a big orange cone at the drag races (the cone obviously won), I felt a little better when Janet showed up in a walking cast after having broken her foot in a fall from a stage. Misery does love company after all.
Hotel Lobby
Here’s a shot from the mezzanine and it was a quiet time when I took the pic.
And now I’m off to present my workshop, EVIL 101!
Welcome Patrick Dilloway!
Today I want to welcome Patrick Dilloway the author of WHERE YOU BELONG. I’m glad to have him here and hope you enjoy his interview. And now, here’s Patrick:
Sheri: Hi, Patrick. Why don’t you introduce yourself and tell us a little about you.
Patrick: First of all, thanks for having me on. I really appreciate it. As for talking about me, there’s not much to say. In my bio I talk about all the things I’m NOT doing because it’s far more interesting than what I am doing. Mostly I was born and raised in central Michigan, got an accounting degree to pay the bills, and moved to Detroit. I spend most of time working and writing. Are you asleep yet? Writing is really my only real hobby, or at least the only one I spend much time doing. If I had the equipment and time I’d love to travel and take pictures. At home I have a lot of framed shots from places I’ve been like Maine, New Mexico, and the Grand Canyon. The good thing about writing of course is that you can do it pretty much anywhere so long as you have a utensil.
Sheri: What inspired you to write your first novel?
Patrick: If you want to get technical, “Where You Belong” is probably my thirtieth novel. I’ve been writing novels since I was twelve, though most of those are better off never seeing the light of day. This one is the first one I’ve ever published, though. What really inspired it is two things. First, after reading “The Cider House Rules” by John Irving about seven years ago I decided to myself I really wanted to do something like that. I tried a couple of times, but I couldn’t get it right. When Prop 8 in California and other similar amendments came about, it put the focus on gay marriage. In listening to some of the arguments against it like, “If you let gays marry then people will start marrying their siblings!” I started to get annoyed. I found that was an issue where I really had something I wanted to say. So using “The Cider House Rules” as sort of a template, I focused on creating a story that would deal with the issue of gay marriage without preaching at the reader.
Sheri: Who are a few of your favorite authors?
Patrick: My overall favorite has to be the aforementioned John Irving. I’ve read all of his novels, his book of short stories, and even his dull autobiography. I’ve already mentioned my love of “The Cider House Rules,” which is followed closely by “The World According to Garp.” Some of my other favorites are Michael Chabon, whose vocabulary I would kill for; Richard Russo because of his great depictions of small town life; John Updike, whose descriptions could make even the worst story into poetry; Kurt Vonnegut, who could tackle horrible subjects while still making you laugh; and Terry Pratchett, who is just a great storyteller.
Sheri: Can you describe a typical writing day for you?
Patrick: When I was writing “Where You Belong” I typically on Monday-Thursday spent about three hours writing in the local library. On Saturdays I would write from 10am-11pm (taking breaks for lunch/dinner) at the libraries and the local Starbucks (or similar establishment) after the libraries closed. It may seem grueling, but I usually took Fridays and Sundays off so I could stay rested. The worst part was subsisting on ham sandwiches on weekdays. After a while you really start to crave a little home cooking. Right now I’ve scaled that back so that I don’t write much on the weekdays, saving my energy for Fridays and Saturdays. If you stop by a coffeehouse in the Detroit area and see someone lurking in the back with a laptop it might be me.
Sheri: What’s your favorite setting from one of your novels?
Patrick: I love the town of Midway, Iowa that I made up for “Where You Belong.” It’s largely based on where I grew up in Michigan, right down to the large chemical plant providing the town with most of its business. I really enjoyed writing the history of the place, how it’s founded largely because of its proximity to deposits of pig droppings. Inventing the backstory for the place really helped make it come to life in my mind.
Sheri: What do you think makes your characters memorable?
Patrick: I’d like to think Frost Devereaux is memorable for more than having a funny name and doing something bizarre in marrying twins of different genders. I think why readers would really remember and connect to him is his vulnerability. He’s not an infallible superhero or some tough gumshoe or something like that. He’s an ordinary guy who wants to find love the same as most of us. In the process he makes the mistake of giving his heart to the wrong people, as I’m sure most of us have done on more than one occasion. Even though he gets caught in some outlandish circumstances, he’s still the kind of person you could meet in the supermarket.
Sheri: What are you working on at the moment?
Patrick: At the moment I’m taking a little mental break from the serious writing by working on an old-school sci-fi alien invasion story. It’s about “Martians” who are actually human colonists returning home in force. Eventually I’ll probably get back into something a little more literary, but I always think it’s good to have a little variety in your writing so you don’t get too stagnant.
Sheri: What’s the most important message you’d like us to take from your new release?
Patrick: As the title suggests, the book is really about finding your place in this world—Where You Belong. Maybe you’re a man and find you belong with a woman. Or maybe you find you belong with another man. The important thing is what you and your significant other feel in your hearts, not how your genitals line up. I hope we can someday get to the point where a story like Frost’s wouldn’t be all that shocking.
Thanks a lot for having me on and asking such great questions!
Excerpt from Where You Belong:
I wake up again and the hand is gone, but I’m not alone. I sense a figure lurking in the shadows, hovering there like a ghost. I think at first it’s my mother; unable to speak I revert back to babyhood and whimper in what I hope is a reassuring fashion. The figure, caught, shuffles forward and I see it’s not my mother—it’s my father.
“Hey, kid,” he says. “How you feeling?”
This is a stupid question as I’m in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines with my face wrapped in bandages. He hesitates before taking the seat next to my bed. For what could be a minute or an hour he sits there, staring at me as he searches for something to say.
“It’s too bad about your mother,” he says.
Though not quite four, I understand this means something terrible has happened. I whimper again, this time mournfully. This rattles my father; he twitches uncomfortably in the chair. He doesn’t want to be there and I don’t want him there; I want Mommy. My father was only the man who lived in our barn.
His hand reaches out to touch my forehead, but his skin is sweaty and warm, not the cool, soothing presence of my other visitor’s. I try to move my head to shake it away only to find I can’t. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid,” he says. His hand moves across my forehead to the bandages. He peels these back gently and then leans close to me so that he can see what lies underneath. Whatever it is causes him to quickly pull his hand back, letting the bandages fall into place again.
“Oh shit,” he whispers into the darkness. I’m too young to know the meaning of this expression. Still, from his tone of voice I gather something’s wrong and whimper again. “It’s all right, kid,” he says, trying to sound cheerful. I know he’s lying. I know things aren’t going to be all right. Not ever again.
My father pats my left hand with his. “Hang in there, kid,” he says. He backs away until the shadows swallow him again. He pauses for a moment before making a decision. The door clicks shut. I wait a moment for him to come back, but he doesn’t. Not ever again.
Rumors
It’s interesting to me how rumors get started. The lastest to catch in the wind is that one of my publishers, The Wild Rose Press, is closing by the end of the year. NOT!
So where did the person who started the rumor get his or her intel? Obviously not from the company. The Wild Rose Press is doing quite well. Sure changes have been made now and again, but any good company will change and adapt to market conditions, consumer demand, and good business management. It’s the kind of thing I personally like to see as it means they are aware and adaptive to the real world. I like that about The Wild Rose Press.
Am I happy with The Wild Rose Press. Oh yeah. It’s a small company who really does care about not just their products, their reputation, and their company, but also their authors. I’ve been lucky enough to meet the owners in the flesh and felt an immediate friendship with them. That’s only one of the reasons why I’m still here three years later.
So to those who feel the need to spread unsubstantiated rumors, shame on you. Get the facts folks before you put your fingers to the keyboard.
