My Favorite Links and Search Words

The end of another year has arrived. Seems like time goes by too fast. I hear people say all the time, where has this year gone? I think the same thing. Sometimes I wonder if I made the most of the last year, but I have no intention of reflecting back long to see if I did. My intention at the beginning of 2009 was to try. I 'll never know if I succeeded, but my New Year's resolution this year is to try very hard to concentrate on my writing in 2010 and see where that resolution leads me. With that in mind, I'm going to start blogging once a week on Tuesday instead of twice. The book I'm working on is about two thirds done. While working on the story I get caught up in the characters and lose all track of time. Perhaps, that's why I can say I don't know where the last year went. I consider myself very lucky. I'm doing something that makes me content and keeps me busy. What more can I ask for any year in the future?

Did Santa bring me my book Computer for Dummies? No, but I found an answer to my problem on my own. Well, I had some expert advice from my brother who knows computers. Happily, I find I can buy a small device that will play my new printshop photo software. That means I won't have to send the software back and keep struggling with my old software. It means I don't have to unhook everything attached to my computer and take it to the shop in the middle of winter. My problem is solved. Would I have spent so much on the software if I had known that it downloads from a DVD which I don't have the means of playing? No, because I wouldn't have wanted the expense of the player. Perhaps, there is a reason for everything that happens. No matter the cost, I am looking forward to trying my hand at new and improved pictures to use as book covers. However with that problem solved, knowing that the coming year is only a few days away has me reflecting on more important things. I was recently absorbed with links and search words while trying to get the word online about my books. However, I know my most important links and search words have nothing to do with the computer.

I retired a year ago from my CNA job which I really liked. I go back to the nursing home once a month to visit. The handful of women residents that I visit are always glad to see me. A couple weeks ago, I stopped to talk to one of the CNAs. While I was in the break room I noticed a envelope on the bulletin board with my name on it. Always in a hurry in the winter to get the errands done and get home before the wind blows the roads or my driveway shut, I laid the envelope in the car seat until later. When I finally looked to see what I had, I found a Christmas card from one of the residents I hadn't visited in the last year. His family had enclosed a Linda Eder music CD as thanks for my taking good care of him. My first thought was didn't they know I've been retired for a year? The resident certainly must have missed me or maybe not. I called the administrator to find out if I should bring the CD back in. How could I deserve a gift for a year I hadn't worked?

It turns out there wasn't a mistake. When the man's family asked which of the staff did he want to have a CD, my name went on the list. I made it a point to go see that resident and thank him. The pleased smile he gave me when I told him I appreciated his thoughtfulness and that I really loved Linda Eder's music told me a mistake hadn't been made. Though he has made me a fan of Linda Eder's singing, the gift he gave me had far less to do with that CD and more to do with how he appreciated my company and help in 2008. So often while nursing home staff are caught up in the hard work they do, they don't take the time to contemplate the little things they do for the residents that might not have been a part of their training. Things that mean so much to them and make them remember the staff like a pat on the hand, staying long enough to listen and really hear, and giving a hug when needed. The staff might not get a CD, but they certainly will make the residents day.

The search words family and friends are very important words to me. They are the blessings I count this time of year, because I have them in my life. The last day of the year is the birthday of one of my nephews. He a second grader, full of enthusiasm for life, smart beyond belief and a joy to be around. I look forward to watching him grow and seeing each new year through his eyes.

That next book I talked about. It's the second in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series. For those of you who read the first one watch for the release sometime in the next year. The tentative title is Nurse Hal's Rainbow. Now I wish you a safe and fun New Year's Eve and good luck and health in 2010 from

Christmas Wishes

At this point in my life, I didn't think I needed or wanted much for Christmas except maybe good traveling weather so we can go to a family gathering on Friday. According to the weather men a good day on Christmas is too much to ask for this year.

So my next all I want for Christmas wish is to be able to download a new printshop photo shop I bought myself for Christmas. Since it looks like I'm going to be whiling away the day at home, I had hopes that I'd have the program installed instantly on Monday when it came. By now, I'd be learning how to use the program to improve my photos.

My old software is ten years old. It is considered antique and that must be true. It doesn't do the job on my pictures it once did which has made using it a struggle over the last year while I've inserted pictures that weren't very good quality in blogs, books and as a book cover.

So I found a good offer on the internet for software. This brand name program sounds great if I can figure out how to use it. The software came complete with a book of instructions for every imaginable problem. I can now brighten up the dark spots and darken up the light spots. If I don't like the background, I can erase it and put in something else. That's just for starters.

I've been studying a picture I took a few years ago of a spring rainbow arched between two apple trees. The yard is dark from cloud cover while the hay field, gravel road and brown fields are glowing in the sunlight. I can make out the faint rainbow in the dark stormy sky, but that's not good enough. I want the rainbow's colors to be more vibrant. So that's going to be my first try at improving a picture if I ever get the chance.

But that's a big IF. This software doesn't come with a plug and play system as all my other programs did. I've spent hours going over instructions from the company, trying to figure out how to get the software downloaded and activated. Part of the time, the website tells me my Adobe Reader isn't working. I get a blank screen for the video. So I sent a help email to the company's support. That got me all the instructions I already tried. Another email and the problem is found. The new software comes on a DVD. I can't install it with my computer unless I figure out how. So I'll keep trying to solve the problem. I could just send the software back but I really want that program and have 30 days to decide.

My next Christmas wish (And I know for someone who says they don't want or need a whole lot my list keeps growing) - I need Santa to give me for Christmas the book "Computers For Dummies."

Christmas Wishes

At this point in my life, I didn't think I needed or wanted much for Christmas except maybe good traveling weather so we can go to a family gathering on Friday. According to the weather men a good day on Christmas is too much to ask for this year.

So my next all I want for Christmas wish is to be able to download a new printshop photo shop I bought myself for Christmas. Since it looks like I'm going to be whiling away the day at home, I had hopes that I'd have the program installed instantly on Monday when it came. By now, I'd be learning how to use the program to improve my photos.

My old software is ten years old. It is considered antique and that must be true. It doesn't do the job on my pictures it once did which has made using it a struggle over the last year while I've inserted pictures that weren't very good quality in blogs, books and as a book cover.

So I found a good offer on the internet for software. This brand name program sounds great if I can figure out how to use it. The software came complete with a book of instructions for every imaginable problem. I can now brighten up the dark spots and darken up the light spots. If I don't like the background, I can erase it and put in something else. That's just for starters.

I've been studying a picture I took a few years ago of a spring rainbow arched between two apple trees. The yard is dark from cloud cover while the hay field, gravel road and brown fields are glowing in the sunlight. I can make out the faint rainbow in the dark stormy sky, but that's not good enough. I want the rainbow's colors to be more vibrant. So that's going to be my first try at improving a picture if I ever get the chance.

But that's a big IF. This software doesn't come with a plug and play system as all my other programs did. I've spent hours going over instructions from the company, trying to figure out how to get the software downloaded and activated. Part of the time, the website tells me my Adobe Reader isn't working. I get a blank screen for the video. So I sent a help email to the company's support. That got me all the instructions I already tried. Another email and the problem is found. The new software comes on a DVD. I can't install it with my computer unless I figure out how. So I'll keep trying to solve the problem. I could just send the software back but I really want that program and have 30 days to decide.

My next Christmas wish (And I know for someone who says they don't want or need a whole lot my list keeps growing) - I need Santa to give me for Christmas the book "Computers For Dummies."

Excerpt from Christmas Traditions- An Amish Love Story

Christmas Traditions ISBN 0982459513
"If it wasn't for these ornaments thou gives me each year, the tree wouldn't look near as pretty," said Luke, bending with his hands on his knees to inspect the presents. "Which one of these presents is the ornament thou brought this year, ain't?"
"It's a small package." To look among the pile of presents, she leaned over as far as she could without dragging the popcorn strings on the floor. "I don't see it under the tree. Either your father left it in the sleigh, or he dropped it in the snow between here and the barn," Margaret dared to say in a scoffing tease, giving Levi a sideways glance.
"That's the thanks I get for helping thee, is it?" Levi countered back.
He actually smiled at Luke and her. What a switch! Not that Margaret intended to read anything hopeful into his actions. As long as she'd known Levi, she knew he could go from hot to cold in a second. Oh how she wished no matter how slight it might be that Levi would have a change of heart for the better that would last.
She could tell Luke appreciated his father's placid mood at that moment, too. "It's fine. I'll go look in the sleigh. Daed, would thou please put the popcorn strings on the tree for me? Thou are taller. Thou can hang them higher than I can so the strings are evenly spaced. We need to get that done quick. Poor Aunt Margaret's arms must be tired. She won't want to stand like that all night." The boy rushed to the kitchen door. He twisted around. "Just don't start on the ornaments until I get back. I want to be here for that."
"Never would have thought to wait for you if you hadn't said so," said Margaret with a teasing laugh.
Luke grabbed his coat from the nail by the kitchen door and put it on. He pulled his gray, woolen mittens out of a pocket and yanked them over his hands. He had his hand on the door knob when his grandfather called after him.
"Take the lantern with thee, Luke. It'll be too dark in the barn to see the sleigh let along a small package in it. While thou is out there check on the cow again. Save me a trip."
"All right, Dawdi," agreed Luke. Lighting the lantern that hung on a nail next to the coats, he held it out in front of him as he went outside.
"You heard your son, Levi. Start draping these popcorn strings over the branches before my arms give out," Margaret dared to order.
"Daed, thou want to help her?" Levi looked at Jeremiah for a way out.
"Ach! I'm too old. I'll just watch the two of thee have the fun," Jeremiah quipped dryly, stroking his bushy beard.
Finding no way to decline, Levi sauntered across the room to stand beside Margaret. They looked at each other until she broke eye contact when he took an end that dangled from her arm. As his warm fingertips touched her wrist, Margaret's skin tingled. Her pulse sped up. She flinched and drew her arm back slightly. When she shrank away, his intense gaze flickered over her face before he twisted back to the tree and looped the string over the branches.
"Levi, the boy seems to be happy," Margaret ventured softly, hoping for a break in the chill of resistance she felt radiating from him at having to be so near her.
Lifting the popcorn string up high to drape it over the branches at the top of the tree, Levi answered, "I told thee he was. No need to spoil that. Not if thou cares for him as thee says."
Was it possible that Levi's voice soften? Or, did she just want to believe that. Was she hearing something that wasn't there?
"I just want to do what's right," Margaret maintained.
"For who? Luke or thee?" He searched her face as he took the next string from her arms.
Just for a moment, Levi's eyes seemed warmer somehow, but his words didn't sit well with Margaret. She glanced across the room at Jeremiah. His eyes closed, the old man's head relaxed against his rocker. His shallow breathing lead her to think that he'd dozed off.
Just the same, she kept her biting voice low to keep Levi's father from overhearing. "That's not fair. If I was thinking about me, I'd impose myself on you more than one time a year to see Luke."
Levi held the popcorn string in mid air, ready to lay it over a bough. He twisted toward her and retorted, "Strong willed as thee are, Margaret, peers to me if thou wanted to have done that, not much way I could have stopped thee. Always thought that lawyer man thou married had more to do with thou not protesting how often thee comes to see Luke than the shunning did."
"Don't blame this on my husband after all these years. You're the one who said that once a year was all I could come," insisted Margaret, feeling her efforts to defend herself futile, but she felt the need to try.
"I did say that," Levi agreed vehemently. "That should have been the last time I spoke to thee as long as thee are under the shunning. I had to kneel for confession before the bishops soon after talking to thee to keep from being shunned myself. I confessed to permitting thee to stay here this week in December. Thou could have gone before the bishops also if thee had the desire to lift thy shunning. That would have made things so much easier for both of us." He made a wide scallop of the string over the boughs and turned back to her for another string.
Margaret noticed he purposely didn't continue with what he had to be thinking. Lifting the shunning also included the fact that she would have to come back to live with the Plain people. That was the only way. Levi knew that wasn't an option for her because of her marriage
to Harry.
When he did finally break his silence it was to rehash their agreement. "If thou recalls, thee is the one who picked the week before Christmas to visit Luke. The day also happens to be Luke's birthday. Not just one, but two very important days in that little boy's life that I allowed thee to be here with him." Levi hadn't mince words. He stooped to drape the last string over some of the tree's lower branches.
"Luke needs a woman in his life, Levi," Margaret stated quietly to his broad, strong back.
Levi straightened and spun to face her. "Faith gave that right up when the boy was small. As far as Luke knows she died. We are going to keep it that way." His narrowed eyes froze her. "Thou didn't want the job either as I recall," he said curtly, wanting to make how he felt very clear.
"You never understood." Margaret lowered her gaze. Even if she could get the words out, it was way too late to defend her reasons for giving away Luke. She bit her lower lip to stop it from visibly quivering. She couldn't cry now. She'd appear weak. The only way to stand up to Levi Yoder was to remain cold and strong just like him. She'd learned that a long time ago. Never give that man the upper hand where Luke was concerned. She wanted the child in her life no matter how short a time she had with him. But she knew if she angered Levi beyond reason, the man was as good as his word. He'd never let her see her son again.
Levi glanced toward the kitchen. "Seems like it's taking my son too long to find that ornament. It's cold out there. I should go help him. Maybe something's happened with the cow." He started toward the kitchen.
Always the same pattern, Margaret thought, feeling let down because Levi had tried to put a damper on her pleasant evening. Levi speaks bluntly and runs away.

Chapter 5
Levi paused with a hand on the door facing and stared into the dark kitchen. He whirled around. With his head slanted to one side, he studied Margaret. "Tell me the truth for once. Why didn't thy husband come with thee this time?"
Margaret didn't know how much longer she could hold up under Levi's probing. She wished he'd just leave the subject of Harry alone. She gazed at the floor while she rubbed the prickly feeling away in her left arm caused from holding it out straight so long. She always felt as if Levi could read her mind. He certainly could tell if she chose to lie to him. In a barely audible voice, she broke the vow of silence she'd made to herself on the trip out from town. She blurted out, "Harry left me."
"Did he?" Surprise was in his voice. "The lawyer man did know the truth?" Again Levi's slanted eyes raked over her face as he questioned her, trying to read her mind before she answered him.
She hated that Levi kept pushing. If being truthful was what he wanted, she'd be truthful since he asked. Maybe he would ease up on the way he treated her if he knew the truth.
"Not until a few days ago," she admitted.
Levi pounced in front of her. He poked his finger under her chin and raised her head so she had to look at him. Gazing down at her, he asked incredulously, "Maggie, thou never told him before this?"
Out of words, Margaret shoved his hand away and lowered her head. She nodded no slowly, contemplating the one word she'd just heard that surprised her. In the midst of this heated discussion, Levi called her Maggie. The mention of that long ago term of endearment was a reminder of happy times in her youth. For many years now, Levi hadn't used the nickname when he spoke to her. She had always felt lucky if he managed to call her Margaret Goodman. But now that he was so worked up, he didn't seem to realize he'd called her by her nickname. Strange what it took to rattle this man. He remained cold and distant or angry when discussing his son with her but seemed on the edge of exploding when he talked about her husband.
Levi grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her as if that would dislodge her answer. "Why not?"
"Because I knew Harry finding out about you and me would hurt him. I feared he'd leave me," Margaret stated flatly, pulling away from his rough grip.
"Ach! Why tell him now then?" Levi said with a frustrated sigh. "If thou thought that, just leave the truth hidden. The fewer Englishers who know the better. Burn thy sister's devil book and let well enough alone."
Margaret's admission came painfully slow, because she knew it would only infuriate Levi further. "Because I promised Faith I'd give Luke the journal this year. If Luke was to know the truth now, I had to tell Harry first. Eventually, you know very well my husband would have found out somehow if I hadn't. To find out from someone else wasn't fair to him. It would have hurt Harry much more than my telling him."
"Is what's in that journal thy only reason for telling Harry Goodman?" Levi asked, searching her face as though he expected more.
She didn't understand. "What other reason would I have?"
Levi stared at her. His unwavering eyes filled with sadness. "Thou should have stayed home with thy husband this time. If thou had kept silent, his leaving thee would never have to be. Now what are thou going to do when thee leaves here?" Levi's voice held a note of concern. In his eyes was tenderness. His face soften while he waited for her reply.
Or was she imagining his feelings toward her changed. She'd wished for that to happen for so long. Her resolve to be cold and defiant melted away. She wasn't used to this type of emotion from him. He hadn't displayed a hint of gentle feelings toward her in years.
Margaret sighed deeply. "Perhaps you're right about me not giving Luke the journal. He's well and happy with the way he believes things to be. After all these years, surely Faith is gone for good. What difference could it make to her now if I didn't carry out her wishes if that's the way you want it. I'll give what you say some thought in the next few days. As for me, you needn't worry. Harry gave me the house so I have a place to live. He's using the time I'm here to move his things out." She sighed again. "The worst part will be trying to explain to the busy bodies in town why my husband left me. They'll notice sooner or later."
"Don't try to explain. Tell them it's none of their business. Or better yet just ignore them," Levi said, his tone soft and husky.
"If only that would work," she said, doubtfully.
Suddenly, Margaret felt so very weary from the weight of her world being turned upside down. One thing she was certain of, she could only blame herself for what had happened to her recently. Her sister, Faith, wasn't there to blame for her misfortune this time. She sagged closer to Levi. He placed his hands gently on top her shoulders. His gaze didn't budge from her face as he slid his hands until he touched her throat. With his thumbs, he caressed her neck.
Mesmerized by his gaze and touch, Margaret felt helpless to pull back even if she had wanted to. Her pulse pounded under his thumbs. Levi lowered his head close to hers. He tucked a finger under her chin to lift her head up. She held her breath, daring to hope that Levi intended to kiss her.
"Oh, Maggie, ----," he whispered.
At the sound of Luke's footsteps in the kitchen, Levi dropped his hands to his side. The boy watched his father glide away from Margaret. Luke paused in the doorway. Fearing tension between Levi and Margaret, the child hesitated in the door. He'd been raised with the belief that harsh words and raised voices were a forbidden sin. Margaret knew the only time heated moments occurred around Luke was when she visited. She saw the alarm on the child's face. She hated what Levi and she did to him. They continually tugged that little boy back and forth between them like a piece of pulled, molasses candy.
Luke looked from his father to his aunt and back. In one hand, he held a small, snow covered package. In the other, he grasped a black book bound with twine.
Margaret's breath caught.
Levi let out a low groan.
"The journal must have slid out from under the sleigh seat where I hid it," whispered Margaret out of the corner of her mouth to Levi. "He mustn't read it yet."
"Come on in and warm up, son. Cold out there tonight, ain't?" Levi invited, holding his hand out to encourage his son to enter the room.

Hunting for Search Words

I've written a book titled Christmas Traditions - An Amish Love Story ISBN 0982459513
The story is set around Christmas, but that shouldn't stop readers from buying the book any time of year. Having said that I can tell you this book will make an excellent Christmas gift and if purchased from me, I'll sign the book.

The book is about an Amish man and a once Amish woman. When forced to spend time together at Christmas, the couple make each other miserable while they try to carry out Amish and English traditions for a little boy they both love.

Here is a list of sites to check out my book or to buy it. Looks like Christmas Traditions isn't that hard to find if you know where to look. If anyone is interested in purchasing Christmas Traditions from the author so the book is signed you may go to my bookstore

www.booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com

Ebay - the synopsis and physical description for the book is on my seller's site and reviews from buyers

Free classified ads websites

Www.freeclassifiedads/fayrisnerstore

Www.oodle.com/christmastraditions

Amazon sells my books so look up search words - amish fiction - an amish love story or put my name in the advanced search Fay Risner - Christmas Traditions - isbn 0982459513

Curious about what search words bring up my book for internet searchers to find, I typed in a few to see what I'd get and was surprised at what I found, including my books advertised in other countries.

Search - Iowa authors

That search didn't bring up any authors. Another self published Iowa author mentioned to me recently that Iowa should find a way to promote Iowa authors. That would especially be a help to self published authors. I've had buyers purchase my books because I am from this state and because some of my stories are set in Iowa. If there is a website or organization that does promote Iowa authors (without fees attached) as part of our state's creative resources, I'd like to know about it.

Google searches

Amish fiction didn't work. I don't understand that since Christmas Traditions is Amish fiction.

Search - Amish christmas love book

For this book amish christmas romance book didn't work. I think the reason is I used love story as the subtitle.

Page 1 www.amazon.com/Christmas Traditions
www.olx.com/christmas traditionsanamishlovestory-41502734

Search - Amish christmas love story

Page 2 www.oodle.com/view/Christmas Traditions
Page 4 books.google.com/books

Search - Fay Risner

Page 1 www.flipkart.com/...fayrisner
www.librarything.com/author/risnerfay
Page 2 reviews.ebay.com/christmastraditions-byFayRisner
Page 3 www.oodle.com/view/christmas...an...fayrisner
Page 7 www.kalahari.net/books/Christmas-Traditions/911/34687679.aspx
Page 8 tweetmeme.com/..../amazon.com-Christmas-Traditions-9780982459515-sylvia-fay-risner-books
Page9 www.classified.com/books-magazine-ad 1858361.htm
Page 10 www.scribblygumbooks.com.au/9780982459515.html-
Page 12 www.booktopia.com.au/christ.../pro970982459515.html
Page 15 www.campusbooks.com/authors/f/fay-risner.html
Page 16 www.bookrenter.com/products/details/9781438248899
Page 17 66.220.11.194/visit/viewwork.asp?authorID=87483&id=27698

Search - Booksbyfay (this is my login name)

Page 7 books.google.com/books/christmastraditions

Yahoo search engine

Search - Amish christmas love story

Page 1 www.oodle.com/view/christmastraditions
Page 3 www.amazon.com/tag/fictions/christmastraditions
Page 11 www.alibris.co.uk/search/books/author/risner-ChristmasTraditions
Page 13 www.booktour.com/author/fay_risner/christmastraditions

Search - Fay Risner

Page 1 search.barnesandnobles.com/ChristmasTraditions
Reviews.ebay.com/christmas-traditions-by-Fay-Risner
Page 2 www.weread.com/book/christmastraditions
www.authorden.com/visit/viewwork.asp?christmastraditionsid=27698
Page 3 www.oodle.com/view/christmas-traditions-an-amish-love-story-byfayrisner
www.classifiedad.com/books_magazines-ad1858361.htm
www.published.com/published/8207published.aspx
Page 6 www.flipkart.com'christmas-traditions (India)
Page 7 www.amazon.com.uk
Page 9 www.amazon.de/religion-spirituality/spie=utf88christmastraditions

Booksbyfay

Page 7 www.weread.com/book/....&container_type=booksread

Happy Hunting!

Writing Short Story Contest Entries

These winter days have not been good ones for most of the country. I watched the weather map as the blizzard headed from the west coast to Iowa. The shut in a box feeling hits me when I look out the windows and see only a white swirl. No trees, fences, fields and neighbors. Just howling wind and snow. I'm thankful for a working furnace and food while we've waited out the storm. I think of the millions out of work during the holidays who can not be so certain of comfortable surroundings and food during the winter. It reminds me that my parents always invited people that had no where else to go to dine with us on holidays.

This is the time of year that I work on short story contest entries to send out in the spring. Keeps my mind off the freezing temperatures outside. Entering writing contests are a good way to sharpen up my writing technique. I love the competition of the two writing contests I've entered for the last seven years. I am up to 34 awards now.

It all started when a friend from Arkansas gave us a subscription to my husband's home town newspaper for a year. After we read the paper, we always gave it to my mother-in-law. At first, she enjoyed discovering news about people she knew. As time went on, she lamented that she didn't know anyone in the paper. Not even in the obituary. My husband was 14 when they moved to Iowa so he remembered even fewer people than his parents did. So after seven or eight years we stopped subscribing.

Before we let the newspaper expire, I found an advertisement about two writing contests. One was the Arkansas Womens' Writers Conference in Little Rock, Arkansas with around 32 different contests with themes and word limits. I could enter around 28 contests for $10. The first three contest, I'd have to attend the conference to enter. Some of the contests are for citizens of Arkansas and high school students from that state.

The contests are short stories for different genre, book chapters, essays, poetry, songs and sometimes a play. Themes change from year to year, but a little bit of something for every writer. I enter from nine to a dozen each year. The contests have a theme and a word count are strictly adhered to in order to place. Deadline is the last of April. Rules come out in mid January on the website.

The other contest is the White River Writers Conference at Searcy, Arkansas, which has a summer deadline, with 13 contests. Each of the contests have a fee. Sometimes I enter at least three. This last summer, while trying to get my latest book ready to publish, I only had time for one entry, but I placed.

I always have the stories from the Little Rock Contests that didn't place. I can send ones that fit the criteria to the White River Contest and sometimes place. Different judges and maybe fewer entries.

There is money to go along the first three place awards and certificates and a certificate for the next three. Both contests put the contest winners for each contest on their website. Exposure for me. Also, I have a list of my awards on my website

http://www.booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com

It has become a dream of mine to go some day to one or both writer's conferences. I could have a table of books at no cost during the two day event as long as I pay the conference fee and Holiday Inn room in Little Rock, Arkansas for Womens' Writers Conference for the two day event. The White River Writers Conference is for the day.

I like to start early, thinking about my subject for the entries. It's true at this point I don't know what the theme for each entry is, but I start now and work the stories over to fit the contest. I like to get an early start. This gives me time to go back over my stories enough times before deadline that I catch most of the mistakes.

Writing a short story with a beginning and end in a few pages takes practice. Making sure not to be one word over makes me cut and condense my stories making them better. It's a way to practice writing and sharpen the story. I know these contests have helped me when I compete against many other writers and place with some of my entries.

Short stories aren't easy to sell. Not much demand for the ones I write. So after years of saving the ones I'd entered in contests, I turned them all into three small books. Not only do I sell them, but I can use them in give aways when I'm doing a presentation about my other books. Gives one person a chance to see how I write. Maybe later I might make a book sale from the give away.

My short story books can be found on my bookstore website or on Amazon.
Wild West Tales ISBN 1438257430
A Teapot, Ghosts, Bats & More ISBN 1438233698
Butterfly And Angel Wings ISBN 1438232713

Kirkwood's Writers Workshop October 2002

The Keystone Nursing Care Center board paid for a Writer's Workshop for me, because I won an essay and a photography contest in 2002. A packet of information came in the mail about Kirkwood's Writer's Workshop in Cedar Rapids. I chose the classes I wanted for the five days in October. Later on, I received a schedule of classes and instructions about what to bring for each class. My younger brother had taught computer courses in that building for several years and still does. At the time, I wished I knew which classroom was his. I wanted to leave a note that said John's sister Fay has been here.

I walked in and introduced myself to get checked off the list. The woman in charge of the workshop was standing nearby. She said she wanted to meet me. She couldn't believe that a nursing home would pay the fee for me to attend the workshop. She wasn't the only one. I kept thinking I was dreaming and would wake up before the workshop started. I was amazed at how many people in this area were aspiring authors. Attendance for the workshop was good.

Most of the students left during lunch break. Not me. I brought lunch with me. I wasn't leaving and risk that I wouldn't make it back for the first afternoon class on time. I went to my car to eat the first day. The car was cold so I ate fast and went back in. On Tuesday, I sat by a woman who asked if I'd like to eat lunch with her in the break room.

One class instructor worked at Rockwell Collins. He set a small object on the corner of our table in the dark. He asked us to describe what we saw, took the object away and turned on the lights. We had a few minutes. Most of the students did just as he asked. They did a detailed description of what they thought they saw in the dark. The instructor read what we handed in. When he got to mine, he sounded surprised when he said I'd written a story. Clearly not the response he had expected. The next time I was in his class he had a statue on the table. I've forgotten the name, but the bearded man in a robe on an oxen. Each student was to add a sentence to a story about the figure. Now I usually have to take my time and give thought to what I intend to write, but I held my own with my sentences. It was fun to see the final story.

In June of this year, I was invited to author day at Anamosa, Iowa's library. One of the authors looked familiar to me. I connected him to the Workshop, but seven years is a long time. I could be wrong. Finally, I asked him if he'd been at the workshop. He was. I told him I was one of his students. The instructor who worked at Rockwell Collins said he remembered me. That surprised me with so many students in the classes, but I thought maybe I had impressed him with my writing ability. No, it was my distinctive voice that he remembered. Funny, that is just how everyone I meet say they remember me - my voice.

Another class was first page of first chapter. I took the first chapter in my children's book "My Children Are More Precious Than Gold". The instructor was a woman from California that had grown up in Cedar Rapids. She made her living editing children books. The first class, she asked each of us to describe our main character. I shared I had 13 of them. She said, "You can't do that." My reply, "I did." No, that isn't the way it works. You have to pick one character to build the story around. Work on that and by the next class she'd look at my writing. The last class went by so fast the instructor barely had time to look at the first paragraphs. A surprised look on her face and a darted glance at me and she read my paragraph out loud. This is what she read.

In the Blue Ridge Mountains near Riner, Virginia, the Bishop family listened to a January blizzard. With a sound akin to the wail of a prowling panther, the wind announced a snowstorm's approach to the hollow before it pounced on the log cabin.


The instructor said my writing sounded like a movie opening. Did I mean for it to sound that way? I said I write like I hear it in my head. She went on to the next student. On the last day, the instructor and I passed each other. She stopped me and ask me to let her know if I had any success with my book. She was interested even if I had not solved the dilemma of who would be the main character. Wow!

I took with me my "Open A Window" book that I'd printed myself. In one class a writing instructor for Kirkwood taught us how to write a query letter and gave advice about publishing. I pulled out my book. The instructor said I should find a way to get the book in doctors office waiting rooms. So far that hasn't happened. But the book has been a success with families needing help and for training CNAs which is even better.

Another class was taught by a English professor at Iowa. My class with him was right after lunch on Monday. Remember I ate fast and came back from the car. I walked into the dark room to find the professor during nap time with his head on the table. I thought about leaving, then decided maybe I should very quietly sit down and wait for the other students to come. After all I had the seat I wanted, far enough away from the instructor to suit me. Before the students showed up, the professor woke up. Right away he began to question me about why I was in his class. (I'm guessing he wanted to take my mind off finding him asleep.) He said he had a group of students that came to his house to work on their writing. I slid my "Open A Window" book down the table to him. He made a quick pass through it and sounded amazed when he said, "Now that was a book." Nondescript as a compliment but the sound of his voice was good enough to bolster my confidence.

Don Harstad, Iowa author of five Sam Houseman series about a deputy sheriff, gave lectures about his success in writing. His first book was named "Eleven Days" because he wrote it in 11 days. He sent his manuscript out for several years before a publisher picked it up. He quit his lawman job and went to writing full time. A movie company bought the rights for a period of time to make a movie from his book but that hinged on getting a script writer. The time was about to run out without a script writer finishing the movie script. I don't know what happened next. Everyone enjoyed this colorful character. Don was good at holding an audience's attention.

An agent was there. We spent some time with her one afternoon, describing what our books were about. She seemed interested in mine. In fact, she was the one who gave me the idea when she said my mystery with an elderly woman as the character was like Miss Marple. If anyone in the audience wanted to send a manuscript for her to look at they needed to put on it they were at the workshop to get a free critique. I sent mine to her. Got a note to call her. She picked my manuscript apart and rightly so. For anymore, she wanted $2000, and she sent me a contract. One clause said when she went to a book fair to push my manuscript I'd pay for her plane ticket and expenses. I called Kirkwood to ask the woman in charge of the workshop if this was a legit agent. She didn't know so she called Don Harstad and ask him if he'd talk to me if I called him. He said yes and gave her his phone number for me to use. He had an agent. The good agents don't ask for money up front. Some might ask for reimbursement after they had sent the manuscript to publishers or made calls to cover those expenses. Others would take the postage or phone calls from your royalty when you got a publisher. I declined the contract, feeling lucky that I checked with Don before I signed it. Better yet, I used the agents critique to make my story better.

On Friday afternoon, anyone could stand up and read something they wrote. I picked the essay that got me sent to the Workshop -- "A Woman For Four Seasons" The woman in charge introduced each of us that participated in the reading. When my turn came, she made sure to say I was given the Workshop by the nursing home I worked at. She still couldn't figure out how that happened. I could tell the students appreciated my essay whether it was the writing or the subject matter I don't know. Maybe a little of both.

Each day, something new surprised and amazed me. I learned so much and found it a good confidence builder to be around other writers. Some of them were far ahead of me with their goals and others were not. At night, I came home and called the administrator to tell her how the day went for me. I don't know when I have or ever will again be as excited about an event in my life. I was ready to try the workshop the next year which had been cut down to three days at the end of the week. Sent in my fee and was disappointed to get it back. Not enough interest in 2003. What happened to all those writers?

An Exciting Opportunity

I never dreamed that I would find myself at a writer's workshop in Cedar Rapids, Iowa in October 2002. First of all, I didn't think I was good enough at writing to put up the tuition of $400. To go to a writer's workshop such as that I thought meant I not only needed to be serious about wanting to be an author (which I was) but be able to hold my own with other writers in the classes. I didn't have one bit of confidence in myself, but Keystone Nursing Care Center did. For the administrator and board giving me such a wonderful opportunity I will be always grateful.

Here is what lead to my going to that workshop. The organization that many Iowa nursing homes are a member of had an essay contest each year and a photography contest. The essay had to be 500 words about a resident in the nursing home without mentioning the resident or nursing home. In 2001, I and others at the nursing home wrote an essay. The nursing home's Senior Advocate committee had to pick a winner. I won so my entry went to the essay contest. Out of all the state entries, I won with "Floating Feathers Of Yesterdays". The head of the organization came to Keystone to present me with a $100 check at a reception the nursing home had for me. My essay was in several of the local newspapers.

That win gave me the incentive to try again the next year. So out of the essays submitted at the nursing home mine was again picked. "A Woman For All Seasons" is about a woman who had lived on her small farm, taking care of her cattle for as long as she was able. I admired her for how she had lived her life her way. While I was entering contests, I thought I might as well enter the photography contest. So I picked the woman I wrote the essay about as my subject. In the spring for years, I'd take a lamb and goat to the nursing home to show the residents. That year I took along a bottle of milk. I set the lamb in front of the woman's recliner and handed her the bottle. In the picture, we could see the pure pleasure she experienced while feeding that lamb. The picture title said it all -- "Bottle Full Of Memories".

The contest results call came one evening while I was working. The nurse had okayed it with the administrator to break the news to me. She mumbled that I had won the contests. Figuring the nurse wasn't too up on what I had entered, I said, "Which one?" She just grinned at me. Suddenly her choice of plural "contests" hit me. I squeaked, "Both of them" "Yes!" The contests were judged blind so the judges had no way of knowing that I submitted both the essay and the photo until after they picked the winner. Nor did they realize right away that I had won the essay contest the year before. This was all cause for excitement at the nursing home.

Also, the double wins brought on another reception. A newly hired communication director came from West Des Moines to present me with certificates and a check for $200. I had the woman in my essay and photo up front to be with me. I presented her with a bouquet of flowers to thank her for being my subject matter. She was delighted to be the center of attention until she asked what time it was. She'd already missed five minutes of "The Young And The Restless" and nothing was more important that that soap opera.

For winning the contest I was about to receive a gift from the nursing home. I could not believe it when the administrator gave me the information that the board wanted me to pursue my writing and work on getting better. They paid for the Writer's Workshop as a gift for winning the contests which is good PR for the nursing home. I was excited and nervous all rolled into one and had several weeks to worry about what I was getting into.

The communication director said when she presented me the certificates that I was a very good writer. She was impressed. With that to encourage me, I said if I could find another resident that was essay material I'd enter again next year and try for win number three. That wasn't to be. Months in advance, I came up with an essay and polished it. When the contest rules came, a new one had been add. Last year's winner could not enter. (I had prewarned the communication director.) The next year I again had an entry ready to go and found the contest had been dropped. Maybe not enough participation. That didn't stop me from writing my essays about the residents. One became a eulogy at a resident's visitation and funeral. A story about my mother was purchased by "Good Old Days" Magazine. Quite a few of my essays have placed in other contests. Best of all, I gave the residents a copy of the essays. Their families were delighted to read a story about their loved one.

Update: The National Novel Writing Month contest is over. I only had about half the 50,000 words I need to enter. I loved the challenge but just didn't have the time to stay at the computer. Now I'm looking forward to next November. I'm ready to try again.

Now come back Thursday. I'll tell you about the Kirkwood Writer's Workshop.

November Novel Contest Month

Na No Wri Mo Sounds like words to an African tribal dance if I didn't know better. In 2007, I read about this National Novel Writing Month contest which takes place in November. This contest has been happening since 1999. Thanks to the internet the amount of contestants, called NaNoers, went from 21 in 1999 to 94,000 in 2007.

This year I decided to check into the details. The contest is free to enter. At the end of the month I would have to have fifty thousand words to finish in the contest. Then in December the novel can be edited and polished. A winner is picked from the entries. There is a list of writers that have had a novel published after entering it in this contest.

From what I read the authors are winging their story. They aren't expected to know where the novel is going, but every day just pick up where they left off. Don't worry about a chapter by chapter plot synopsis or an outline. This approach to writing is not new to me. It's the way I approached all my books. The secret is in going back to rework the story, edit and polish it into a work you can be proud to have your name on.

On a whim I entered the 6th of November. So I was already five days behind which worried me. I tried to tell myself two thousands words a day doesn't sound like a lot for me. Once I made up for those six days that is, fifty thousand words should be no problem. Little did I know that this would be one of those months when I would be gone at least half of the thirty days. Little things have gotten in the way of my writing a novel like a wedding, book signing, dental visits and now Thanksgiving.

Several November days, I spent most of the afternoon emailing libraries in Iowa, Missouri and Pennsylvania to let them know about my two Amish books listed in Ingram Distribution Catalog. In the email I mentioned that I had an online bookstore that all my books can be purchased from, thinking that libraries could go to the website to look at the books. Maybe even buy books from my site.

Quite an undertaking to do that many emails when I realized how many libraries there were in each state. Made me glad for copy and paste. For Iowa, I mentioned that I lived here. As for Missouri, I had emailed the libraries last year when I published my Civil War book which is a fact/fiction book based in Vernon County, Missouri. Maybe they will remember me. Maybe not. I've been told many emails about new books target libraries. As for Pennsylvania, residents buy my Amish books more than any other state. One theme that was on most library sites in that state was the fact state funding had been cut for libraries which meant their budgets had to be reduced. This didn't sound like a good time to be advertising books for sale, but my self published, paperback books are inexpensive compared to books from publishers that are sold in bookstores. Perhaps, a library's reduced budget would be a reason to buy my books. Now I wait and see. If I have any luck with these libraries, I still have 48 states to go.


There's something to be said for incentive. Being in the NaNoWriMo contest has given me that. I had the story line all plotted in my head for some time but advertising and starting the new website had kept me from getting started on the book. Now I am well under way. Maybe not far enough along for NaNoWriMo, but looking forward to releasing it sometime next year.

Thanksgiving is upon us. As with many family gatherings, relatives have to travel. We go to Marion to my younger brother's for lunch. As usual, he has barbecued turkey on the menu. Not such an undertaking the way he does it. The grill is in the garage out of the wind. There's a thermometer inserted in the turkey that transmit to a sensor in the kitchen so he can watch the rising temperature. Once or twice, my brother runs outside to check briefly just to be on the safe side. The rest of the time he is visiting with us and watching a parade.

For the evening meal, we rush forty miles or so from Marion to Belle Plaine to my husband's mother's house for another big meal. Sometimes I think it was a mistake to put Thanksgiving and Christmas so close on the calendar. We no sooner get our appetites back from Thanksgiving and Christmas comes with more food. Come to think of it. We are truly blessed and should count our blessings every day. We have our families close and plenty to eat.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving and travel safe. I'll be back next Tuesday.

A New Member In Our Family

Just to prove I don't think about writing books or selling them all the time, I'm going to tell you about a wedding I attended last weekend.

Remember my blog about going to a bridal shower in October for my husband's niece. Last Saturday afternoon, the 14th, was the wedding. This was at St. Paul Methodist Church in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. A beautiful, old church in the round with a cornerstone dated 1913.

However, the understated, lovely wedding ceremony took place in the chapel. It was a ceremony that reminded me of yesteryears with simple, not too expensive planning. No attendants and only family from both sides to witness the event. The bride was absolutely gorgeous in her bridal gown, holding a bouquet of red roses and the groom very handsome in his tuxedo. Though the bride planned 99% of the wedding and reception, by the groom's own admission, these two are well grounded young people who wanted to keep the ceremony simple.

The reception was for friends as well as family and a tribute to how popular the newlyweds are by how crowded the room was. The food was delicious. The four flavored multa tiered square cake was decorative as well as flavors for everyone. I hear there was one tier of lemon. By the time I got to the cake table the lemon cake was gone.

The reception was held on Mt. Vernon Road in a rustic area. A man went out in the parking lot for a breath of fresh air and swears he saw a five point buck meandering between the cars. Deer are thick everywhere in the area, but he was the only eye witness to a hunter's dream of a five point buck.

Our celebration with the newlyweds didn't stop with the reception. Since we were going to be in Cedar Rapids for a book signing the next day at Lemstone Christian Bookstore, we were invited to the couple's for a soup supper and the wedding gift opening.

It's nice to see the groom feels right at home as a member of this family, but then he has had five years to let us get use to him. He likes to tease, and I hear he can be a joker. I too like to tease so we should get along fine.

As we were putting on our coats to leave Sunday evening, I said I had gotten used to having two free suppers in a row on the newlyweds. What time was supper on Monday? The groom said he would set a bucket on the outside by the door. I would be expected to make a donation before I entered. I told him I knew meals on him was a good thing that was too good to last.

We look forward to seeing this busy couple on holidays and any time in between they want to visit.

After The Book Signing

Book Signing

Sunday was a good day for me as an author. What's better than a book signing in a bookstore, sitting with three other authors. I feel like I have much I need to know about being an author and I always learn from conversations with other writers and book buyers. Since my topic - Alzheimer's - is a heavy one I always hope that I helped a caregiver or someone struggling with the prospect of dementia in their future.

There were four of us with stacks of books in front of us. Kent Stock, Marion, Iowa, the coach from "The Final Season" fame has written a book along the same lines titled "Heading For Home". Karen Roth, Austin Texas, has a new, sequel, fictional book titled "My Portion Forever". Her first book is "Found On 16th Avenue" which is set in Czech Village in Cedar Rapids, Iowa where she grew up. A doctor, Mary Ann Nelson has a book on child care and one on Elder Care. My books were about Alzheimer's - "Open A Window - Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook" ISBN 1438244991 and "Hello Alzheimer's Good Bye Dad - A Daughter's Journal" ISBN 1438278276

On one end of the table, Karen Roth had a built in following because she grew up in Czech Village. You may remember that is the area hit by the flood in 2008. Old friends and relatives, along with customers who had her first book, lined up to greet her and buy books so she could sign them.

On the other end, Kent Stock had customers who remembered the Norway baseball team as I did or were sports fans. I bought one of Kent's books because I am remember those exciting days in Norway. (Besides I wanted his autograph). I could get the signed book on his website but that wasn't the same as in person. And I told him I might not ever get to see him again. He said now that I said that we would probably run into each other several times. I said, "Hopefully at another book signing." I'm ready.

Next to me on the other side was Dr. Nelson. She seemed interested in my books and my foundation for writing such books. I'm always willing to explain my years of working with people who had Alzheimer's and some of what I was taught by my experiences.

Three customers stood nearby discussing what they liked to read. I over heard one lady say she read all the Amish books she could find. When Mary Ann Nelson asked me what else I had written I was telling her about my two Amish books. I heard the customer expel an OH! As if she was thinking there is more books that might interest her. With so much going on around me, I'm hoping she picked up one of my business cards and plans to follow up on my books.

Between customers the four of us authors had a few moments to learn about each other and our books and writing and publishing experiences. We exchanged websites so here are the ones you should check out if you like to help out Iowa authors.

Kent Stock - www.kentstock.com
Karen Roth - www.karenrothbooks.com
Fay Risner - www.booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com
Dr. Nelson doesn't have a website for her books but you can ask for them at Lemstone Christian Bookstore in Collins Plaza, Cedar Rapids, Iowa and I'm sure many other places. The large, hard cover books are full of educational information designed to help.

Me -- Interesting?

I now have the information about the other authors that will be with me at the Nov. 15th book signing at the Lemstone Christian Bookstore in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. This week I visited the store to talk to the owner about the book signing. While I was there I found out what I needed to know to report accurately about the authors. Kent Stock, Marion, Ia, from "The Final Season" fame has written "Heading For Home." His story about being a successful coach, teacher and business man. Karen Roth, San Antonio, Texas and formally from Cedar Rapids, Ia has her second book out. "My Portion Forever". Her first book is "Found On 16th Avenue". She writes about growing up in Czech Village in Cedar Rapids which last year was in the devastating flood.



When I can get the Internet to cooperate with me, I'm back writing blogs on a new monitor the size of a small television instead of the very small, ten year old screen I was using. I can't believe what a difference screen size makes when I'm staring at it for a long period of time. Not that there is that much wrong with my eyesight as long as I wear my glasses. The fact is I'm feeling great, busy and full of purpose. It took a visit with a young neighbor girl to get me thinking about the generational gap between her and me and to bring this gap into prospective.


When I answered the phone one evening recently, I had to ask the caller to repeat her name. I want you to know I'm not hard of hearing. I'd heard right the first time, but I was too surprised to believe I had. It was the fourteen year old neighbor who lives in seeing distance of my home.

It seemed over night I watched her change from baby to toddler to an energetic child to a bashful preteen that didn't speak when she came with her father to visit. Now a teenager, she was still very quiet this summer with a look on her face that said she would run for home if we spoke to her.

Her father described her as his Tomboy. Her attire was a shirt and jeans. Dresses were for a rare occasion. Most likely an occasion deemed appropriate by her mother. She went with her father to the barn to help with chores until she was old enough to do them on her own. Her love of animals led to her taking care of a flock of sheep and a horse. She worked with a lamb so she could enter the sheep exhibits at the county fair.

Out of the blue, she called me and got right to the point. "I have to write a story about someone for English Lit. I want to interview you for the story."

Not comprehending why she would call me for her assignment, I said, "Okay, but why me?"

"Because I think you're interesting," she said.

I must admit I was baffled by that statement. We set up a time for her to come late one afternoon after school on a day between cheerleading practice and a football game. In walked a young woman who over the summer had grown a foot taller than me. Her long, dark blonde hair was styled. She had on makeup. Best of all, she was smiling as if she was happy to see me. Her father had told us a few weeks earlier he had lost his Tomboy. He was having trouble adjusting to the fact since the change happened suddenly. Now I saw first hand what he meant.

We sat at the dining room table so she could spread out the contents of the folder she carried. First thing she said in a very direct manner, "I can make the interview short and write three pages. That won't get me an A." As she shuffled through her papers to get organized, she continued, "If I talk to you longer and write 5 pages, that would get me an A. I would rather get the A. It's up to you how much you want to tell me. The teacher said not to talk too much if you would rather I didn't stay long."

I told her she could take all the time she needed. Why would I want to rush her when I finally had her talking to me. I wanted to get to know her. I said I would do my best to answer her questions, but I warned her she might have to spice up her story. I was pretty sure I wasn't interesting enough to get her that A. I offered to go over the story so we could do just that, spice it up. I could even proof read it for her while I was at it to make sure she got the A. She said she couldn't let me do that. The teacher told the students to bring the stories to her so she could give them pointers on making the stories better before they turned the final product in.

"So where do we start?" I asked.

"From the moment you were born."

"That is going back a long ways. We may need a lot of time," I warned her.

Reading from a list of questions, birth was the first question the teacher had furnished to help the students with this story telling process. The girl wasn't sure how some of the questions applied to me, but I encouraged her to ask me anyway. Once I elaborated enough that I unwittingly answered the next question.

I fear I was born in a much earlier generation than the teacher. Maybe she thought the students would pick someone more her age to interview instead of someone who could have been the girl's grandmother. I came by that impression when I was asked the question, "How did the arts and craft movement play a part in my life or did it?"

Through my mind scrolled my childhood years in the Missouri Ozarks. Nothing about my early life was an arts and craft experience, but I was determined to give her an answer. Once in awhile we went to a western movie on a Saturday night in a vacant lot next to Schell City's car repair garage. As for crafts, my family was in to crafts, but the main objective for being crafty was to make money. My father built flower baskets, with a log cabin look, from twigs. My mother made crape paper roses she dipped in paraffin. Back in the fifties, we didn't have plastic or silk flowers. My younger brother and my part of this work was after supper. Mom gave us boxes of Kleenex in different colors. We folded a couple Kleenexes in accordion folds and wrapped a wire around the middle. The ends with the fold had to be cut off, then we carefully pulled each fragile layer of tissue paper to the middle. When we were done, we had a carnation. The flowers were arranged in a bouquet in the log cabin baskets and sold to neighbors for Memorial Day decorations to take to the cemeteries. Any basket left we spent the day delivering to cemeteries for our relatives. This story was noted. Maybe she could figure out a way to work it in.

Two hours and several pages of notes later, the girl gave me the last question. The time had passed fast for her and me as well. Since we never had really had a conversation I doubt she was prepared for how much I can elaborate on a subject when given the chance. However, she left happy with her interview and eager to turn it into a story. I asked her to let me know if she got that A.

According to her father, who came over recently to tell me after a talk with his daughter, she had been nervous about talking to me. By the time we finished, she was excited to relate to her parents all the experiences I had shared with her. Her father says she is very impressed with me. That is a two way street. What were the things she found most interesting about my life? It wasn't that I write books and have been a CNA. What impressed her was the fact that I can vegetables we raise. She had me show her my pressure cooker and explain the process. The other thing was that I have for years did my own vet work as much as possible for my flock of sheep and goats. Though she takes care of sheep, she had never thought about giving shots or helping during a difficult birthing and all their food comes from the grocery store. Wow! I could do all that. Not what I would call interesting. These are things I have done for years. Just part of life as a person who lives in the country.

It didn't matter that she wasn't impressed when I said I was an author. I found this bashful Tomboy had turned into a polite, articulate, caring and lovely young woman. I told her to come back and visit any time she wanted, and I hope she does. Maybe I can get her to help me can green beans.

Nov. 15 Book Signing Lemstone Christian Bookstore, Cedar Rapids, Ia.

Book Signing Announcement

On November 15, Keystone author Fay Risner has been invited to a book signing at Lemstone Christian Bookstore located in Collins Plaza Mall across from Linndale Mall in Cedar Rapids, Iowa from one to three p.m. Risner will talk about the two books the store sells for her - "Open A Window - Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook" and "Hello Alzheimer's Good Bye Dad" the story of her father Bill Bullock's struggle with Alzheimer's.


I'm excited to be invited to this book signing at the Lemstone Christian Bookstore. The owners have been planning this event for months. The main hitch was trying to set a date that three authors could commit to.


Other authors at the book signing will be Kent Stock from the movie "The Final Season" the story about Norway, Iowa's baseball team and Karen Ross from Texas with her newly released book about growing up in Czech Village in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Sorry that I don't have the name of either of their books, but will share those titles next week along with my story about meeting these authors.

I'd been forewarned for months that a book signing was coming soon, but a week's notice has me rushing to plan my portion of the event. First I am very glad to have email. I alerted friends and family.

With such a short notice coming in on Saturday, I don't expect much publicity to be done. I know the local weekly paper has a Monday noon deadline. Monday morning was going to be a busy morning for me between a dental visit and errands. I don't own a cell phone which might surprise most people. That means while I was driving I couldn't call the newspaper. That's why I emailed my book signing article in to the office on Sunday. Also, I emailed a daily newspaper at the county seat.

Next, I made up a flyer to put up on every bulletin board in the area. That will catch people going to the bank, telephone office, post office, library or the local nursing home.

I plan on arriving at the bookstore early Sunday with a copy of each book. The bookstore has a supply, but I want customers to be able to see my books while they are speaking to me. "Hello Alzheimer's Good Bye Dad" has a 1947 picture of my parents on the cover. The customers that will gravitate toward me are ones who are facing Alzheimer's with a family member, or they fear the disease is in their future. What better way to sell a book than to come face to face with someone who was a caregiver (me) and see first hand what a healthy, youthful man (my dad) looked like before he fell victim to the disease. Plus, I share some of my family's experiences that are in the book.

To pick up the book "Open A Window" and hold it long enough to read the reviews on the back doesn't explain stories within that tells of the battles people faced with Alzheimer's. I can convey that verbally in person much better. I just sold both these books to a dental tech. She read a potion of "Open A Window" before my last visit. She told me what she read made her cry because it reminded her of her grandmother's struggle. Holding the book doesn't make a customer feel emotions or empathy. Reading about the people in my book does that. In order to learn more about Alzheimer's disease and understand what happens to people who have it, you have to buy the book and read it.

I'll let you know next week about my book signing.

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween
Here is an excerpt from A Teapot, Ghosts, Bats & More ISBN 1438233698



Jacob's Spirit



Ellen Carter stopped rocking. She tilted her head toward the window and asked, "Jack, what's that noise?"
"What noise?" Jack mumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the television.
Ellen frowned at her husband. All stretched out with his legs crossed at the ankles, his only movement was an occasional downward wiggle of one big toe stuck out of a hole in his rockford sock.
"Sh! That noise -- listen!" Ellen hissed, walking to the window. "Something's banging outside." Cupping her hands around her face to shut out the ceiling light's glare, she leaned against the pane. Looking beneath a row of sparkling icicles on the house eve, she strained to see through the darkness beyond the back yard to the barn.
"See anything?" Jack tried to divide his concentration between Perry Mason and Ellen.
"Nothing. It's pitch black out there." Ellen backed away from the drafty window and
settled back into her rocker.
"The wind's strong tonight. Probably a loose barn board flapping. Or one of us forgot to hook a barn door at chore time." Jack gave Ellen an accusatory look. "I'll look around while I'm checking the sheep. It's my turn, isn't it?"
"You know very well it's your turn." Ellen chose to ignore the twinkle in Jack's eyes.
Bundled up in his winter garb, Jack reached for the flashlight on the shelf above the coat pegs, then braced himself for a blast of cold air when he opened the door.
Ellen rushed back to the window and cupped her hands around her eyes. She pressed her nose against the glass. Holding her breath to keep from fogging up the pane, she waited for a signal from Jack. He always flicked the light switch twice if he needed help penning up a ewe.
In a few minutes, the barn lights went off. Jack projected his flashlight's beam over the front of the barn. As he crossed the back yard, lacy snowflakes floated through the bobbing shaft of light.
"That was quick. It's snowing, huh? Weren't any new lambs? What was banging?" Ellen took the flashlight and placed it on the shelf.
Slipping free of his parka, Jack hung it on the empty peg. "In answer to your 40 questions, no new lambs. Yes, it's beginning to snow, and no I didn't find anything wrong. The noise stopped when I got to the barn."
The rhythmic noises continued all night. Ellen couldn't sleep for listening to the disturbing sounds. Slipping from under the quilts, she wrinkled her nose when her toes touched the cold floor.
Tiptoeing to the window, she scanned the back yard. Everything seemed to be all right. She shivered from the cold radiating off the window and decided to go back to bed. Whatever
was making that noises would still be there in the morning. No sense losing sleep over it.
However, January turned into February, and the banging remained undetected. One evening unable to concentrate, Ellen slammed her book shut, and dropped it onto her lap. "I wish that incessant racket would stop."
Jack tried to suppress a grin. "We'll find out what that banging is one of these days. Who knows," he teased, "maybe it's a ghost repairing the barn. Gosh dang, I hope he's doing a good job, putting in such long hours and working in the dark besides."
"Very funny," snapped Ellen. Why did Jack have to bring up ghosts? Leaning her head back against her rocker, she closed her eyes and pictured a transparent spirit with a hammer in his hand, striking a nail until it sank into a board.
That night Ellen dreaded taking her turn to check the sheep. Since Jack mentioned a ghost, she couldn't shake the feeling someone was hiding in the barn.
Suddenly, springs of hay flitted down in front of her face. A prickly sensation crept across Ellen's scalp. She aimed the flashlight beam at a small crack in the loft floor. It reflected off two glaring eyes.
"Who's there?" Ellen called.
She backed away. The unblinking eyes continued to stare at her.
Darting to the hallway, Ellen flipped on the hayloft light and climbed the ladder. Walking to the edge of the stack, Ellen looked down at the fingers of light, filtering through the loose hay
from the room below She pointed the flashlight at the floor, but the small beam created too many shadows. She slipped over the side to take a look.
Finding toeholds between the bales, she climbed down. When her toes touched the floor, Ellen felt a soft lump under her foot. She let her weight down, thinking the lump was hay. A piercing squall shattered the quiet, and needle sharp pains stabbed through Ellen's ankle. Frightened, she screamed, lost her grip on the flashlight and scrambled back up the bales. Behind her, loose dry hay rustled as a cat skittered in the opposite direction. Ashen faced, Ellen sat down to catch her breath. Sighing deeply, she made her way to the ladder.
"What you doing up in the loft this time of night?"
"Jack, don't sneak up on me!" Ellen snapped, missing the last step and staggering when her feet touched the floor.
Jack leaned against the doorway, waiting for her explanation.
"If you must know, I saw eyes watching me through a crack in the loft floor. I wanted to find out who it was," snapped Ellen.
The corners of Jack's mouth twitched. "Who was it?"
"Just a cat," Ellen replied curtly, looking at the floor to avoid Jack's twinkling eyes and trying to ignore the pain in her ankle. It wouldn't do to tell Jack she stepped on the cat, looking for his ghost.
One sleepless night in May, Ellen finally slipped out of bed. Maybe a cup of warm milk would help her sleep. When she passed the open, living room window, a blast of air bellowed
the curtains out in front of her. She stopped, gathered the panels in her hands and parted them to look outside. It dawned on her that she hadn't heard the banging all day.
The barn yard glowed, lit by a full moon. Suddenly a movement in front of the barn caught Ellen's attention. She knelt in front of the window to study the scene. Sitting on the ground, a small boy dressed in a blue, chambray shirt and faded, blue overalls had his left leg twisted under him in an awkward way. Beside him lay a straw hat with the crown flattened and a claw hammer. As if drawn together like a magnet to metal their eyes met. The pained
expression on his face tugged at Ellen's heart. His lips moved wordlessly, begging her for help.
Overwhelmed by the painful look on the boy's face, Ellen felt the distance close between them. Turning the curtains loose, she reached out a hand to him, and felt the cold, unyielding window screen bite into her fingertips. A breeze struck suddenly with whirlwind force swirling the curtains around Ellen's face, blocking her view. Quickly, she rose to her feet.
"Wake up, Jack! Come to the barn yard quick," she shouted, running to the door.
Beneath the flutter of her nightgown, her bare feet flew over the lawn. When the barn yard came into view, she stopped abruptly. The boy was gone.
"Where's the fire?" Jack puffed, rushing around the house. He hopped on one bare foot then the other, zipping his jeans as he hobbled along.
"There's no fire. I saw a little boy sitting in front of the barn," said Ellen.
"A boy? Did you recognize him? What'd he be doing out here this time of night?" Jack combed his fingers through his hair, trying to clear his sleep muddled mind.
"I don't know why he was out here, but he was hurt. I didn't know him. He was dressed funny like people dressed years ago, and he had a smashed straw hat and a claw hammer beside him."
"A smashed hat -- a claw hammer -- a boy dressed funny? You saw all this out here in the dark from the house? Are you sure you weren't sleepwalking and dreamed all that?" Jack sounded concerned.
Ellen shrugged her shoulders. That surely isn't how it happened, she thought, walking through the gate to inspect the spot.
"Here's his hammer." Ellen handed it to Jack. "Look at that old, scarred, wooden handle." Now she was convinced that she had seen the boy. "Maybe we should look around for
him. He couldn't have gotten far with a broken leg."
Jack glanced at the hammer. "This was in the barn when we moved here. You must have used it and didn't put it back. You're always leaving my tools lay around."
He's right about me using his tools and forgetting to put them back sometimes, conceded Ellen to herself, but I've never used this hammer. Clearly, Jack hadn't appreciated being woke up abruptly in the middle of the night to go on her wild ghost chase.
"Let's go back to bed," declared Ellen, feeling foolish. Not talking about it might be easier than trying to convince Jack. The best she could hope for was that he would forget this night ever happened, and just maybe since the banging had stopped, she might be able to forget, too.
Two weeks later, Ellen was down on her knees pulling weeds from the marigolds when she heard gravel crunch under a slow moving car.
"Hello," called a lady, in a sleek, black pantsuit. She rushed around the car to help her passenger, a frail lady, supported by a cane. With the driver holding a protective hand on her elbow, they walked toward Ellen.
"Would you mind if we looked around?" The younger woman asked. "This farm used to be Mom's home years ago."
"No I don't mind," said Ellen. She led the way behind the house to give the ladies a full view of the farm.
"How things have changed." Astonishment filled the older lady's voice as she recalled the way the farm looked in her youth. "The small outbuildings are gone that were over that way. " The old lady pointed at the barn, "My brother, Jacob, fell off that barn and died."
"How did that happen?" asked Ellen.
"He was helping roof the barn and lost his balance. Slid off and broke his leg when he hit the ground right over there," she said. "A bone poked through the skin, and caused gangrene." She pointed a crooked finger at the maple trees along the far edge of the pasture. "We buried him out yonder somewhere."
A couple years before, Ellen buried her border collie under those trees. She vowed she wasn't going to dig there anymore now that she knew a human being was buried there. Then an image of the boy in pain flashed through her mind. "What time of year did that accident happen?"
"Early May." The old woman's eyes clouded over at long ago, put away memories, coming to the surface.
"Mom, how old was Jacob?" asked her daughter.
"He turned eleven in January and thought he was growed. He needled Pa about helping roof the barn until Pa gave in."
Ellen digested that information, then asked, "Which leg did Jacob break?"
"The left one. Daughter, we better go. Thanks for letting me look around." Barely able to contain her excitement, Ellen ran to the feed shed to tell Jack what she heard. "Guess what happened?" she panted.
"The hogs got out again while I was gone after the feed," Jack said, concentrating on unloading the sacks from the pickup.
"No, I had visitors."
"What did they want?" Jack lifted a sack onto his shoulder and returned to the shed.
"The older lady told me an amazing story."
"That right." Jack reached for another sack.
"Years ago, she said her brother, Jacob, got killed when he fell off the barn roof," explained Ellen.
"Really?" Jack, hearing excitement in Ellen's voice, stopped to look at her.
"Really, and get this. He turned eleven in January and fell off the barn in May."
"So?"
"Don't you see? The banging started in January and ended in May. The lady said Jacob broke his left leg. Remember the boy I saw that night. His left leg was twisted under him. Don't you think that's quite a coincidence?"
"I might if you hadn't been sleepwalking. I don't believe that some spook named Jacob lives in our barn." Jack threw another sack on his shoulder.
"He doesn't live in our barn exactly. Don't you see, he just wants to finish the roofing job he didn't get done before he fell and died," Ellen said, exasperated by Jack's attitude.
"Yeah. Sure."
"Well, I happen to think Jacob could have returned. You haven't found out any other reason for the banging, have you?"
"Nope. Want to help me unload feed?"
"No way! I have to start lunch." Jack wasn't going to believe her. She might as well drop the subject and retreat to the house before he put her to work.
That evening, the Carters had just settled down in the living room when the banging started up again.
"Oh no, Jacob's back," Ellen blurted out.
"I don't know about that overactive imagination of yours. I'm going to find out what that banging is right now." Exasperated by what he thought was Ellen's twisted logic,
Jack said, "I'm going to prove you wrong before you tell the neighbors our barn's haunted.
"Go ahead. I'll let you meet Jacob this time," said Ellen, smugly.
Not long after Jack left, the hammering sounded faster and louder. Growing apprehensive, Ellen couldn't stand the suspense. She went to find her husband.
When she went into the barn, she couldn't believe her eyes. Jack, on his knees, was nailing a piece of tin over a hole with the old hammer. "You're doing the hammering?"
"That rat hole has been the problem all along," declared Jack.
"The rats made the banging noise?" squeaked Ellen.
"No, silly, the sheep," declared Jack.
"Sure it was the sheep," bristled Ellen.
"See that hole I patched? It went into the corn bin on the other side of this wall," Jack explained. "The sheep tapped the wall with their hooves, and corn fell out of the hole. Each time they heard us enter the barn, they stopped and waited for us to feed them."
"Okay, you win," said Ellen. "Let's go back to the house?"
Feeling defeated, Ellen trailed behind Jack. She paused a minute and turned to study the barn's roof, then looked at the spot where she saw Jacob. How could she have imagination him?
Jack needed a logical explanation for the banging. Wouldn't he groan if she suggested that Jacob might return every year from January to May to work on the barn roof? Then again maybe she better keep that notion to herself before Jack decided to have her committed.
"Come on, slow poke. What's that imagination of yours cooking up now?" Jack taunted.
Wanting the last word, Ellen past him, then replied, "Now that we know Jacob's resting in the pasture, I wondered which tree I should plant flowers by for him. Oh, you'll need to buy hog panels to keep the sheep out so they won't eat the flowers. Maybe you should fix one panel so we can open it to mow the grass."
Ellen smiled at the soft groan she heard behind her.

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Now that my online bookstore, Booksbyfay Book Store, ( www.booksbyfaystore.weebly.com) is up and running, I have found out everything is in working order. I made a book sale. Now I need to get busy and advertise, advertise, advertise.

I proudly tell you my farm house was built in 1899. I've lived here eighteen years in November. My husband and I knew this home and the surrounding land was for us the minute the real estate agent showed it to us.

With Halloween coming up I am reminded as with most homes as old as ours, there has to be quite a history if our house could talk and maybe even a few deaths within these walls. Once in awhile in the dark of night, the groans of this old house settling could easily be mistaken for someone sharing this abode with us. There's what sounds like soft patter of bare feet, step by step, coming up the stairs in the middle of the night, putting a creaking pressure on the old steps The sound of one of the bedroom doors opening or closing can be quite loud because the doors tend to stick. We've gotten used to the noises and our wild imaginations. One of us usually whispers, "Spooks."

I love a ghost story now and then. The stories from the area of haunted homes and cemeteries that are believed to be true are fun to read. Do I believe everything I read? No. Am I going to some haunted cemetery in the middle of the night to prove someone wrong? Definitely not!

"A Teapot, Ghosts, Bats & More" ISBN 1438233698 is a collection of short stories I wrote for contests. Actually, I have written three short story books filled with contest entries that won from second to sixth place. When I was dividing the stories up into categories, I found I had written quite a few spooky stories.

Take for instant, the story about the ghost in the Iowa barn, Jacob's Spirit. That came about because on a summer day years ago when we lived in the trailer house by my parents, two women stopped and talked to my son. They wanted to see this place the older woman had called home. Of course, many of the outbuildings she remembered had been gone along time as well as a grove of walnut trees in the pasture. The old barn, she remembered well, was the reason for a younger brother's death around 1900. He was helping roof the barn, fell off, broke a leg and died of blood poisoning. He was buried at the back of the pasture, but the lady wasn't sure of the exact spot. Perhaps, the parents had thought to start a family cemetery, but years later they retired and turned the farm over to a son. With the passing of time, whatever they used for a marker disappeared, and no one remembered about the grave. How my story plays out is what happened to my husband and I one winter when we had some mischievous sheep. Can't tell you anymore without giving the plot away. Wait until Thursday and I will put "Jacob's Spirit" on my blog for Halloween.

International Book Sales

The last few days must be our burst of Indian summer. When the days like today turn cold and rainy it makes me appreciate those few warmer, sunny days. I spent one of those days cleaning off my flower beds. From year to year, I save my flower seed to use the next spring so the flower beds are the last yard work I do. Early on I potted every flower that wouldn't make it through the winter and brought them inside. They are happily enjoying the indoor warmth in the south window upstairs.

I always hate to see the colors in my yard go from bright yellows, oranges, purple, and pinks to brown. Right now I have old fashion (Aunt Ethel) asters, a few hardy pansies and petunias trying to hang on. Many of my perennials have been given to me from a member of the family. I inherited being a flower lover. Just not the green thumb that goes with it. I don't usually think about where I collected my start of flowers until someone takes a tour in the spring. This spring when a friend was visiting, I stopped to explain my asters came from Aunt Ethel Risner in Arkansas, my peonies by the clothes line poles were my mother's plus her fern peony and white lilies with purple dots. An 80 year old Christmas Cactus that comes in during the winter belonged to a friend of my mother's in Missouri. One large peony dates back to 1924 from my father's parents yard in Montevallo, Missouri. His father set the a whole row out, and Dad brought a start to Iowa with us in 1961. The pussy willow, almond bush, old fashion roses and coriospis came from my mother in law. The day lilies came from friend, Gladys. My three small walnut trees and two persimmon trees are from Uncle Frandell Risner's fall crops in Arkansas a few years back. That is just the top of the list of trees, flowers and bushes I have planted on our land. Some plants I actually bought myself. The ones, that started out as gifts, are now part of my heritage and will long be remember on my family tree.

Now I have to tell you about going international on ebay with book sales. My first attempt at using ebay was to auction off things. I was never very successful with that. When I self published my books I decided to try selling one of them in "fixed price" on ebay. "Christmas Traditions" ISBN 0982459513 has been selling there for a year now. When I published "A Promise Is A Promise" ISBN 0982459505 this summer, I wanted to try selling that book on ebay. First though, I emailed all the buyers of my first book to see if I could interest them in buying Promise from me without going through ebay. I did sell about half of my buyers a book. Made me more profit. Now that those buyers know that Promise is a series, they have gotten back to me to ask that I hurry up and get book two done

I've always put in an inventory of all my books and contact information with all my sales. The amount of the introductory fee is so small, I have considered this a good way to advertise. I can tell by the hit counter how many take a look at my books. In my ebay, I can see how many are watching my books sell. Some day I shall venture forth with a few more books to see if I can attract more buyers, but right now what attracts attention is the Amish books not my name as the author.

This last week I sold a book to a lady in Onterio Canada. That in itself was a thrill, but now I am opened up to sell all around the world. Since I have the first of both books on www.authonomy.com , I had a couple of writers from England interested in buying my books. Perhaps, they might find my books on ebay in their country and give them a try. Getting known takes time so I just have to be patient and see what happens next. I'll keep you posted.

My Online Bookstore

I'm proud to announce that I now have my very own Online Bookstore with a paypal account. Putting together a website is not fast or easy. Not every website I checked out would let me sell products. The website I have on tripod wouldn't come up for those who tried to find me. Most of the time, I had trouble getting into the site. So recently I explored other websites, thinking that I would have to have one for personal and another for business. The website I found will allow me to do both in one place. So far I am able to gain access to the site. If readers of this blog can't gain entry let me know.

Http://www.booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com

The bookstore comes up on the first page with paypal buttons under each book and a description along side the book picture. Other pages contain my bio and favorite links, my accomplishments, an event calendar and hit counter, a blog and Book event pictures which will change from time to time. Do I have this website perfect? No, it needs work and picture will change from time to time. I thrilled that I now have my book inventory available to purchase.

At the very top, I made sure to include that I am a member of MyEntre.net's Iowa Entrepreneuers and Small Business Owners Group. For me, that lends proof to the fact that I am who I say I am. A small, honest business owner. Besides, I'm proud to say I'm a member.

Hopefully, my site shows buyers a self published author that writes the kind of books she reads - wholesome, heartwarming, humorous, entertaining, suspenseful, exciting and hard to put down until the end. I stated that not one of my books will be rated X or graphically violent. Any member of the family can read them if the books are to their liking. In September, a middle school girl ask her mother to buy my Amish book - A Promise Is A Promise - for her. After talking to me, the girl's mother bought the book. I wouldn't be a bit surprised to hear when the girl was done reading the book, the mother read it, too.

The Importance Of Good Reviews

A good review helps buyers make up their minds about buying a book. I'm convinced of that fact. Years ago before I even thought about publishing my books, I let my friends read my manuscripts. Some of them were kind enough to put a review note in the notebook when they gave it back simply because they liked what I had written. But wisely, I kept all those reviews. After I published, I gave books to people and asked them to give me their reviews.

I found a man online that reviews Civil War books. I emailed him about reading my book "Ella Mayfield's Pawpaw Militia". He didn't reply. Perhaps, that was because, my book is fiction based on fact. The reviewer only reads nonfiction books. One woman said she reviewed mysteries. I emailed her to ask if she would read "Neighbor Watchers". She said she was very busy at the moment, but if I wanted to send the book she would get to it when she had time. No promises when. That was a year ago. She must be really, really busy. I've never heard from her.

My books are sold on Amazon. The buyers don't bother to review my books after they read them. Now I could take that as a negative thing and be glad they don't want to give my book a bad review, or I can think they just don't want to bother. I go with the latter. Amazon won't let me put the reviews people have given me in the review post, because I am the author and seller of the books. What I did was start a discussion in the community connected to each of my books. I put every review I received in my discussion so that prospective buyers can find them if they scroll down to the bottom of the page. Along with that, I look for every discussion that I might be able to fit one of my books into and describe the book. Amazon mails me new posts in each of those discussion groups. I can tell my entry helps because I sell a book or two right after I have posted.

The same with ebay. I sell two books on ebay - "Christmas Traditions" and "A Promise Is A Promise". Each time I sell a book, I notify the buyers that their signed book is on its way. Along with that I ask that the buyers let me know what they think of the book if they have time. Many have gotten back to me and requested that I continue to write my Amish stories. Therefore since "Christmas Traditions" has been selling on ebay for almost a year, I had plenty of reviews to keep adding to the listing.


"A Promise Is A Promise" is my newest book. I needed reviews. So when I was looking for a websites to advertise on I found a website started by HarperCollins Publishing (Authonomy) for writers to submit their work. Writers trade reads and decided which five should be on the editor's desk each month on the front page of the website for the publisher's editors to look at. I put both my Amish books on the site and have been overwhelmed with offers to trade reads. Also, many good suggestions have come my way about how to get up the ladder to the editor's desk. For awhile, I have made my way through the reading trades, but that takes time. Not many of the manuscripts are to my liking but are popular it seems with others on the site. Perhaps, I would need to be English to appreaciate the stories. Most of the authors are from Great Britain.

All I read is a chapter or two to get the substance of writing and how the story flows then leave a review for the author. In return, I've hit the jackpot. I've gotten many very detailed, good reviews about my books that I can use. Because these are authors and not just readers, they are great with writing critiques. Much better than I am. Thankful though I am for the reviews I had accumulated, the ones I've gotten from readers and friends are, "I love your book. Couldn't put it down until the end." Those reviews help to bolster my confidence and spur me to continue to write to my latest ones are much more detailed.

Here's one from authonomy for "Christmas Traditions" (An Amish Love Story) ISBN 0982459513
This is an informative and intelligent piece from a human interest point of view. Your writing is atmospheric and your narrative comes across as natural, believable and very vivid. Margaret is already so likable, but I'm not so sure of Levi. I think any story which helps its characters to emerge out of their self-indulgent ways to greater understanding and a fuller compassionate existence is worth a read.

A Promise Is A Promise" (Nurse Hal Among The Amish) ISBN 0982459505
You've done it again! This is a very well written, intricate and richly detailed tapestry of Amish life. Maybe its just my personal preference but I do love stories like this about a way of life based on faith, convictions and honesty. It's a beautiful story that had my rapt attention all the way through. A compelling read that I found hard to put down once I started.

Some authors have put me on their bookshelf which is a step up to the editor's desk. Do I expect to get to the editor's desk? No. That wasn't my goal when I signed in, but I didn't tell the other authors that. My goal was to get reviews that would interest my buyers in buying my books.

I've had one negative review from authonomy but I took that with a grain of salt. The criticism had to do with some conversational words I used that makes "A Promise Is A Promise" believable as a regional story in southern Iowa. The English critic listed a few of those in a negative light. I thanked the man for his help, because he wasn't looking at my story from an American viewpoint. If I wanted to I could have taken his story apart in the same way since Brits have a particular way of phrasing that goes with living in England. Also that writer may have been so close to the editor's desk, he didn't want to give me a good review. I might creep up the ladder and get to the editor's desk before him.

I know the reviews help on ebay. Each time I add another one, I sell a book right away.

When I revised "Christmas Traditions" and sent it to a different printer I put one of the best of the reviews in the front of the book. I am very proud of all my good reviews. I always reply with a thank you note and encourage readers to keep them coming.