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.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Excerpt from Open A Window - Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook
Excerpt from Open A Window - Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook
Windows In The Brain
This is my description of what happens to a person's brain when they have Alzheimer's disease.
When we are born, our brain is full of well lit, airy, vacant rooms with an open window in each one. Knowledge and experiences flow through the open windows to fill the rooms as we grow, and flow back out as we mentally call on them to create the type of human being we become. Imagine if by the time you are in your sixties, you was to find yourself searching for a thought in the memory room. You find that the room had become dark, the drapes are drawn. You strain to see the familiar object you are searching for in your mind, trying to remember what it looked like the last time you saw it, but you can't find that object in the dark.
That's what happens to a person who is afflicted with Alzheimer's disease. One such person was a large framed, boisterous farmer who spoke with a loud voiced, salty vocabulary. First, the memory room in his brain became dark, then other rooms darkened as they were covered with a black shroud called plaque that continued slowly to spread from room to room.
As it entered the open windows, the plaque closed them, and the drapes drew shut to put out the light. As this happened to the farmer, he became a shell of the man his family and friends once knew and was admitted to a care center. In time, he forgot how to feed himself, had trouble swallowing, couldn't do his activities of daily living skills, and could barely stand long enough to transfer from the bed to the wheelchair. The only vocabulary he had left was loud, frustrated profanity unless he chose to parrot short sentences he heard from the aides such as "It's time to eat.", or "It's bedtime.".
There came a time when the farmer quit repeating what he heard. His face became expressionless, and his eyes stared vacantly. I was sure that most of the windows in his brain had shut, became locked, and would never reopen again. I was wrong!
Since the farmer was in his room most of the day, I had taken to sitting him in the living room with the other residents after the evening meal. I hoped people talking, and Vanna White flashing across the television screen would stimulate his mind. As time went by, I gave up hope that what I was doing would trigger anything in the farmer that I would see outwardly, but I consoled myself with the idea that I didn't know what was happening inside those dark rooms in his brain. You know how the window frames in an old house doesn't fit quite tight, and a small amount of air seeps between the sills and the frames? I thought maybe that might be how the windows in the farmer's mind were working so I felt I shouldn't give up trying to stimulate him even if I couldn't see I was helping him.
One evening at bedtime, I pushed the farmer's wheelchair across the living room. As we neared a visitor, sitting by his wife, the visitor reached out his hand and patted the farmer's knee.
"Hello," the visitor greeted.
"Hello," the farmer returned in his booming voice, and he called the man by name. The blank expression on the farmer's face changed to one of joy at seeing an old friend.
"He knows you!" I exclaimed in surprise as I realized the farmer recognized the visitor, and he actually spoke without repeating another person's sentence. The farmer's eyes remained focused on the visitor.
"He should," the visitor replied. "We've been friends for years, and we were both on the board of a business in town for a long time, weren't we?"
"Yes," the farmer answered with gusto.
I could see a calm look of contentment on his face as the memory room's window crept open to let out the memories I had been so sure were trapped forever in darkness.
"We went to a lot of those board meetings together," the visitor continued. He patted the farmer's knee again as he said, "This is the man who made a lot of the important decision at the meetings, didn't you?"
Tears welled up in the farmer's eyes as he struggled to grasp memories long forgotten. I hated to see him so sad, and I didn't want this to be an uncomfortable situation for him or the visitor so I tried to add a little humor to the conversation.
"Oh, sure! Were those important decisions what time to go get the beer after the meetings were over?"
Both men laughed at my teasing as the farmer slowly boomed out, "Yes!"
Then I explained to the visitor that it was the farmer's bedtime so he had to leave. By the time I had wheeled the farmer the short distance down the hall into his room and closed the door, hiss face was expressionless again. His eyes stared vacantly, focused on the drapes behind his bed which were closed across the window just like the pair that darkened the window that had shut again in his mind.
For all my trying, I hadn't been the one to open a window for the farmer, but that's all right because I was there to see it happen, and that was enough incentive to make me keep trying.
Published in Open A Window - Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook by Fay Risner CNA ISBN 1438244991
And in Jolene Brackey's book Creating Moments Of Joy -third edition ISBN 1557533660
Windows In The Brain
This is my description of what happens to a person's brain when they have Alzheimer's disease.
When we are born, our brain is full of well lit, airy, vacant rooms with an open window in each one. Knowledge and experiences flow through the open windows to fill the rooms as we grow, and flow back out as we mentally call on them to create the type of human being we become. Imagine if by the time you are in your sixties, you was to find yourself searching for a thought in the memory room. You find that the room had become dark, the drapes are drawn. You strain to see the familiar object you are searching for in your mind, trying to remember what it looked like the last time you saw it, but you can't find that object in the dark.
That's what happens to a person who is afflicted with Alzheimer's disease. One such person was a large framed, boisterous farmer who spoke with a loud voiced, salty vocabulary. First, the memory room in his brain became dark, then other rooms darkened as they were covered with a black shroud called plaque that continued slowly to spread from room to room.
As it entered the open windows, the plaque closed them, and the drapes drew shut to put out the light. As this happened to the farmer, he became a shell of the man his family and friends once knew and was admitted to a care center. In time, he forgot how to feed himself, had trouble swallowing, couldn't do his activities of daily living skills, and could barely stand long enough to transfer from the bed to the wheelchair. The only vocabulary he had left was loud, frustrated profanity unless he chose to parrot short sentences he heard from the aides such as "It's time to eat.", or "It's bedtime.".
There came a time when the farmer quit repeating what he heard. His face became expressionless, and his eyes stared vacantly. I was sure that most of the windows in his brain had shut, became locked, and would never reopen again. I was wrong!
Since the farmer was in his room most of the day, I had taken to sitting him in the living room with the other residents after the evening meal. I hoped people talking, and Vanna White flashing across the television screen would stimulate his mind. As time went by, I gave up hope that what I was doing would trigger anything in the farmer that I would see outwardly, but I consoled myself with the idea that I didn't know what was happening inside those dark rooms in his brain. You know how the window frames in an old house doesn't fit quite tight, and a small amount of air seeps between the sills and the frames? I thought maybe that might be how the windows in the farmer's mind were working so I felt I shouldn't give up trying to stimulate him even if I couldn't see I was helping him.
One evening at bedtime, I pushed the farmer's wheelchair across the living room. As we neared a visitor, sitting by his wife, the visitor reached out his hand and patted the farmer's knee.
"Hello," the visitor greeted.
"Hello," the farmer returned in his booming voice, and he called the man by name. The blank expression on the farmer's face changed to one of joy at seeing an old friend.
"He knows you!" I exclaimed in surprise as I realized the farmer recognized the visitor, and he actually spoke without repeating another person's sentence. The farmer's eyes remained focused on the visitor.
"He should," the visitor replied. "We've been friends for years, and we were both on the board of a business in town for a long time, weren't we?"
"Yes," the farmer answered with gusto.
I could see a calm look of contentment on his face as the memory room's window crept open to let out the memories I had been so sure were trapped forever in darkness.
"We went to a lot of those board meetings together," the visitor continued. He patted the farmer's knee again as he said, "This is the man who made a lot of the important decision at the meetings, didn't you?"
Tears welled up in the farmer's eyes as he struggled to grasp memories long forgotten. I hated to see him so sad, and I didn't want this to be an uncomfortable situation for him or the visitor so I tried to add a little humor to the conversation.
"Oh, sure! Were those important decisions what time to go get the beer after the meetings were over?"
Both men laughed at my teasing as the farmer slowly boomed out, "Yes!"
Then I explained to the visitor that it was the farmer's bedtime so he had to leave. By the time I had wheeled the farmer the short distance down the hall into his room and closed the door, hiss face was expressionless again. His eyes stared vacantly, focused on the drapes behind his bed which were closed across the window just like the pair that darkened the window that had shut again in his mind.
For all my trying, I hadn't been the one to open a window for the farmer, but that's all right because I was there to see it happen, and that was enough incentive to make me keep trying.
Published in Open A Window - Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook by Fay Risner CNA ISBN 1438244991
And in Jolene Brackey's book Creating Moments Of Joy -third edition ISBN 1557533660
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Open A Window
I'd say out of all my books Open A Window (Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook) ISBN 1438244991 is the one I am most proud to have written. At the nursing home, I'd been approached by resident families with questions. Not realizing the awful twists and turns Alzheimer's takes, family members were caught off guard. They needed education.
Mom tells me you haven't fed her all day.
Dad keeps asking me the same question over and over.
Aunt Mable wants me to take her to her parents house. Her parents passed away years ago.
The thought came to me that I should write an Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook to help educate people who have loved ones in the nursing home. I made a list of all the symptoms and behaviors that went with Alzheimer's disease. While I was working, I watched for examples to use in this book. Each example, I wrote down right away when I got home so I wouldn't forget any of the details. Eventually, I had enough information to make a book.
The program - Lotus - came with my IBM computer in 1999. I know that program has been outdated for a long time, but I like using it for documents. I'm used to it. The program has a booklet maker which came in handy back in the day when I had to make hard copy. The book pages are printed from the middle of the book back to the front on even pages. Turn the pages over and print the odd pages. This wasn't a perfect system. I had to start over several times, because of printer errors.
Finally, I had a completed manuscript. After some consumer shopping, I found a Print shop to make my books. I wanted two staples to hold the book together on 100 books. That must have been a time consuming job that the workers weren't crazy about doing. The woman at the counter tried to talk me into using the spiral plastic or perfect binding. I didn't want my book to look like a telephone book, and perfect binding was expensive. This special book should look as much like any other book as possible so I was determined to use staples.
I designed the cover myself. A simple window with tie back curtains in purple, because that is the Alzheimer's Association color. That cover didn't suit the printer. They had to use one of their clip art windows. It's been awhile, but I think the reasoning was I had too many shades of purple in my curtain plus the brown window. Thinking back on that explanation, it seems to me that no matter what the cover colors, the printer should have been able to print them. Anyway, I paid the extra $25.00 for the cover. The discussion about the staples and the cover kept up over a couple of weeks while they held up my printing job. By that time I was anxious to get my books done before the Printer found some other problem. The window turned out to be a good choice for the cover after all.
The nursing home administrator helped with book sales since many prospective book buyers that needed educating went through her office. People read the book and sent me complimentary comments. They were relieved to at last understand in layman terms what happens to a person who has Alzheimer's disease.
In 2000, I started an Alzheimer's support group at the nursing home. Open A Window came in handy as an ice breaker. I read a chapter. That was enough to get people started talking about what has happened with their loved ones. You would think that the many people in this support group over the eight years I facilitated it would be book buyers. In some cases, that was true. More times than not, someone would get me aside, with tears in their eyes, to whisper about a particularly hard situation they had at home. Always, I could say I knew how these people felt, because I had been there while taking care of my father. I offered advise from my experiences but I wanted to do more. I gave them a copy of my book. At the December meeting, I always came up with some small gift for the members. One year, it was a copy of my book. Since I hadn't meant for this to be a profit making adventure, all I wanted was enough money to cover the printing cost.
Most of the books I sold went to audiences I spoke to on behalf of the Alzheimer's Association. I was asked to speak at a training session for new employees at a Cedar Rapids Nursing Home. I left one of my books and mentioned reading from the book worked well for a support group. Soon after that, the social worker asked me to come to her support group meeting to speak. I sold several of my books as a result of that meeting.
The nursing home gives a inservice each month to educate the staff on various topics. One time, Jolene Brackey, a well known Alzheimer's speaker and author, was invited to talk. At that time she lived at Polk City, Iowa. Since then she has moved to Montana. To find out more about her, her website is http://www.enhancedmoments.com This young woman gives a very dynamic speech that has her audiences laughing one minute and close to tears the next. Jolene asked if we had a support group she could talk to after the inservice. My group met at night, but I put out the word and had an afternoon meeting.
What I didn't know was the administrator had sent Jolene my Open A Window book. After she read Jolene's Creating Moments Of Joy book, she told her there was an author at our nursing home. She sent me a note to let me know how much she liked what I had written. One day, I received a call from Jolene. She was writing her latest book Creating Moments Of Joy the third revised edition. ISBN 1557533660 Jolene asked me if she could use some of my stories in her book. I was thrilled. That was the first of my writing to get published. Jolene said I was more descriptive than she was. That was quite a compliment from a woman who writes as well as she does.
When my supply of books ran out, I wanted to order another 100. By then I had come up with more examples so I had to do a new hard copy. Then I set to work on the cover. I didn't want to pay another $25.00 so I scanned the window on the cover. For the new cover, I enlarged the window and the title. I bought stock paper and printed my covers to be stapled on the books. The old question of did I really want staples came up again. I held my ground and got what I wanted.
Under the window on the cover, I put By Fay Risner CNA. The idea of using CNA was to give my book some credence as help in a complicated disease. I got the idea while I attended an Alzheimer's annual conference in Cedar Rapids. A speaker was listing who would be talking that day. One topic was about therapy dogs. The speaker said the dog used in the session was so well trained, he had more alphabet soup behind his name than she did. It occurred to me that I had alphabet soup behind my name. Granted I was way down on the health care totem pole, but still I should use what I have.
In 2002, I had mentioned to the Alzheimer's Association director that CNAs aren't getting enough training about Alzheimer's before they start work. An evening session was started that year for CNAs to coincide with the evening session for family members. I was asked to be the first speaker. One woman in the audience is a social worker. She bought a book. Months later, I received a call from her. She was taking books to a social worker conference in Ames. Would I like to give her a box of my books to put out for sale? I was thrilled. She sold them all. The next year, the social worker took another box. A social worker at the conference took her book back to Grinnell. Loaned it to an nurse training CNAs and that nurse ordered three more to use for her training sessions.
Now I have Open A Window published. This is one of the books sold at the Lemstone Christian Bookstore in Cedar Rapids at Collins Road Plaza across from Linndale Mall. On the back cover of my book is a review from Jolene Brackey. Below that is as many of the reader reviews that I could fit on the page. I'll talk more about the importance of reviews one of these days.
Mom tells me you haven't fed her all day.
Dad keeps asking me the same question over and over.
Aunt Mable wants me to take her to her parents house. Her parents passed away years ago.
The thought came to me that I should write an Alzheimer's Caregiver Handbook to help educate people who have loved ones in the nursing home. I made a list of all the symptoms and behaviors that went with Alzheimer's disease. While I was working, I watched for examples to use in this book. Each example, I wrote down right away when I got home so I wouldn't forget any of the details. Eventually, I had enough information to make a book.
The program - Lotus - came with my IBM computer in 1999. I know that program has been outdated for a long time, but I like using it for documents. I'm used to it. The program has a booklet maker which came in handy back in the day when I had to make hard copy. The book pages are printed from the middle of the book back to the front on even pages. Turn the pages over and print the odd pages. This wasn't a perfect system. I had to start over several times, because of printer errors.
Finally, I had a completed manuscript. After some consumer shopping, I found a Print shop to make my books. I wanted two staples to hold the book together on 100 books. That must have been a time consuming job that the workers weren't crazy about doing. The woman at the counter tried to talk me into using the spiral plastic or perfect binding. I didn't want my book to look like a telephone book, and perfect binding was expensive. This special book should look as much like any other book as possible so I was determined to use staples.
I designed the cover myself. A simple window with tie back curtains in purple, because that is the Alzheimer's Association color. That cover didn't suit the printer. They had to use one of their clip art windows. It's been awhile, but I think the reasoning was I had too many shades of purple in my curtain plus the brown window. Thinking back on that explanation, it seems to me that no matter what the cover colors, the printer should have been able to print them. Anyway, I paid the extra $25.00 for the cover. The discussion about the staples and the cover kept up over a couple of weeks while they held up my printing job. By that time I was anxious to get my books done before the Printer found some other problem. The window turned out to be a good choice for the cover after all.
The nursing home administrator helped with book sales since many prospective book buyers that needed educating went through her office. People read the book and sent me complimentary comments. They were relieved to at last understand in layman terms what happens to a person who has Alzheimer's disease.
In 2000, I started an Alzheimer's support group at the nursing home. Open A Window came in handy as an ice breaker. I read a chapter. That was enough to get people started talking about what has happened with their loved ones. You would think that the many people in this support group over the eight years I facilitated it would be book buyers. In some cases, that was true. More times than not, someone would get me aside, with tears in their eyes, to whisper about a particularly hard situation they had at home. Always, I could say I knew how these people felt, because I had been there while taking care of my father. I offered advise from my experiences but I wanted to do more. I gave them a copy of my book. At the December meeting, I always came up with some small gift for the members. One year, it was a copy of my book. Since I hadn't meant for this to be a profit making adventure, all I wanted was enough money to cover the printing cost.
Most of the books I sold went to audiences I spoke to on behalf of the Alzheimer's Association. I was asked to speak at a training session for new employees at a Cedar Rapids Nursing Home. I left one of my books and mentioned reading from the book worked well for a support group. Soon after that, the social worker asked me to come to her support group meeting to speak. I sold several of my books as a result of that meeting.
The nursing home gives a inservice each month to educate the staff on various topics. One time, Jolene Brackey, a well known Alzheimer's speaker and author, was invited to talk. At that time she lived at Polk City, Iowa. Since then she has moved to Montana. To find out more about her, her website is http://www.enhancedmoments.com This young woman gives a very dynamic speech that has her audiences laughing one minute and close to tears the next. Jolene asked if we had a support group she could talk to after the inservice. My group met at night, but I put out the word and had an afternoon meeting.
What I didn't know was the administrator had sent Jolene my Open A Window book. After she read Jolene's Creating Moments Of Joy book, she told her there was an author at our nursing home. She sent me a note to let me know how much she liked what I had written. One day, I received a call from Jolene. She was writing her latest book Creating Moments Of Joy the third revised edition. ISBN 1557533660 Jolene asked me if she could use some of my stories in her book. I was thrilled. That was the first of my writing to get published. Jolene said I was more descriptive than she was. That was quite a compliment from a woman who writes as well as she does.
When my supply of books ran out, I wanted to order another 100. By then I had come up with more examples so I had to do a new hard copy. Then I set to work on the cover. I didn't want to pay another $25.00 so I scanned the window on the cover. For the new cover, I enlarged the window and the title. I bought stock paper and printed my covers to be stapled on the books. The old question of did I really want staples came up again. I held my ground and got what I wanted.
Under the window on the cover, I put By Fay Risner CNA. The idea of using CNA was to give my book some credence as help in a complicated disease. I got the idea while I attended an Alzheimer's annual conference in Cedar Rapids. A speaker was listing who would be talking that day. One topic was about therapy dogs. The speaker said the dog used in the session was so well trained, he had more alphabet soup behind his name than she did. It occurred to me that I had alphabet soup behind my name. Granted I was way down on the health care totem pole, but still I should use what I have.
In 2002, I had mentioned to the Alzheimer's Association director that CNAs aren't getting enough training about Alzheimer's before they start work. An evening session was started that year for CNAs to coincide with the evening session for family members. I was asked to be the first speaker. One woman in the audience is a social worker. She bought a book. Months later, I received a call from her. She was taking books to a social worker conference in Ames. Would I like to give her a box of my books to put out for sale? I was thrilled. She sold them all. The next year, the social worker took another box. A social worker at the conference took her book back to Grinnell. Loaned it to an nurse training CNAs and that nurse ordered three more to use for her training sessions.
Now I have Open A Window published. This is one of the books sold at the Lemstone Christian Bookstore in Cedar Rapids at Collins Road Plaza across from Linndale Mall. On the back cover of my book is a review from Jolene Brackey. Below that is as many of the reader reviews that I could fit on the page. I'll talk more about the importance of reviews one of these days.
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