Murder She Writes

I am working on page proofs right now for book three. In fact, I have to turn these in tomorrow. (I was technically supposed to have turned them in yesterday, but there was a glitch, and St. Martin’s Press very graciously gave me a couple extra days, and wow, am I grateful.) 

Working on page proofs is, for me, like that moment after you’ve exercised and exercised, maybe for months, and you didn’t think you were accomplishing anything at all and then bang, one day, you can suddenly fit down into the lower size. It may be a little tight, it might not be perfect, but it feels damned good to finally get to that point. You know?

It’s also a little strange, for me, because when I first open the package with the proofs, it’s like, Holy Fu*k, I wrote a book. How’d the hell did that happen? And it’s not because I haven’t printed the sucker out before, and it’s not that I don’t see the volume of the work and realize how much has gone into it (for many drafts). It’s because it’s typeset and it finally looks like a book will look. The pages have whatever layout design they’re going to have, the font is set, the spacing.

And good grief, do you ever see things at the proof stage that you didn’t see at any other stage. (How on earth did I, three of my own proof readers, the copy editor, and my editor miss the typo on page one? Which was there from the beginning, I discovered, as I went back to see where it crept in. Geez.) 

Now, depending on the publisher, you can still make changes at the page proof stage. Some will only let you change things if there is a typo. Some will not even allow you to do that much if the typo is going to change the length of the line because then everything on the page has the potential to shift, which can screw with the spacing forever after. (I think this is rare, but I am curious if others have seen this more often?) Most publishers are open to minor changes–a word, a line, occasionally a paragraph. I have found that it is much easier on everyone if I mark anything out where the change is going to be longer than a few words and note that there is an “insert” for that spot, and then label the insert with that page number. (If there is more than one insert per page, I label the first with the number and the letter A, the second with the letter B, etc. That way, if I go back later and discover that page 101 needs an insert, I don’t have to renumber the inserts that came afterward.) Depending on how far ahead your page proofs arrive from the ultimate production deadline, your publisher may be open to more changes than that. 

It’s amazing, to me, that they let me keep futzing with stuff. They’ve been incredibly gracious and hard-working and kind. I always have the sinking feeling when I send back these books all marked up with little “insert” notes that someone in production wants to put their head down and cry, and I suspect I will need to send them some really nice gifts after they allowed me to fix some stuff in book 2 (out at the end of June)… way up against the production deadline. 

Right now, I’ve gotta go back and finish this one so I can be on time tomorrow. Meanwhile, I want to mention our own S J Day’s book which came out TUESDAY (go get yours) (seriously), called EVE OF DARKNESS.

“What was once a sexy fling for Evangeline Hollis has become a Mark of Cain. The formerly agnostic Evangeline finds herself struggling with her new life, her new demon-killing job, and her two loves – Cain and Abel.”

You can see an excerpt here and I have to say, I really loved this book. I got to read it as an ARC and it’s incredibly imaginative, brilliantly done and incredibly HOT. 

And also, a shout out to an author I thoroughly enjoy, Alison Kent, whose new book No Limits is out now, too — and this one sizzles and is set is south Louisiana. (yay)

“When an undercover operative returns to his Louisiana home, he never expects to find his house falling down, a conspiracy involving Confederate gold, or a woman hiding in his kitchen wearing nothing but rubber waders and a Victoria’s Secret bra.”

Read an excerpt here.

So for you all… what have you been working hard on lately? OR, what did you work a long time on (can be ANYTHING, doesn’t have to be writing related) that you finally achieved! Give yourself a shout out here.

Now, I’ve seen this and heard this before, but it seems to be coming true for me more often than not. I first heard it through a paragraph written by a woman who didn’t understand why her flowers hadn’t been watered at the end of the day–when it was the first thing she had set out to do.

I think that it’s not just me, but that it’s true for all of us these days. I don’t grow flowers, so, thankfully, at least, I don’t have to worry about killing them. I do own pets, but, luckily, if you don’t feed them, they set up a howl or jump on your lap, or do something else equally noticeable. But here is the thing–I often find out at night that I didn’t complete the main project I’d had in mind to be finished by the end of the day.

Today is no exception. Of course, I have an excuse for myself. I have just returned from the Romantic Times convention which is a tremendous amount of fun, but also, a lot of work and late nights. So, as my mom would say, I’m discombobulated. I’m not sure it’s a word, but it’s nicely descriptive. I made it home last night–it was Orlando, so we drove–and crashed. Completely. I had all kinds of projects lined up for today, the simplest being to kind of get the house back into a semblance or order. Or at the disorder that I find manageable. My first thought was that I had forgotten to turn on the back air-conditioner. I was going to do that. Then I thought I needed coffee and forgot the air-conditioner and walked to the kitchen. I didn’t make it to the kitchen. The computer was in the way. I stopped to check email. I was about to answer an email when I realized I really needed the coffee. I started the pot and was distracted by the fact that my face cleanser and tooth paste were in my bag. I went for the toothpaste and toothbrush–my teeth really irritate me in the morning and I actually managed to brush my teeth. I almost took a shower while I was in there, remembered the coffee and went back. Tripped over the luggage. Ah, I really should hang up the one jacket. Remembered the coffee, but the computer was in the way again. I answered one email, remembered I was supposed to blog, get to the accountants, and fix a mistake on a dedication. I managed a few things at the computer, and headed in for coffee. Ah, but I hadn’t turned on the air-conditioner. I walked toward the back, but the TV in my room was on, and go figure, it happened to be a repeat of one of the few episodes of Law and Order, Criminal Intent that I hadn’t seen yet. I stopped and stood there, then sat on the bed. The episode ended. I wanted to see another, but . . . I did manage to get up. I came back to the computer, where luckily I found a reminder from Deb to blog. Okay, right after the accountant. No . . . right after a shower. No . . .

Okay, well, I honestly think that we all do this, although I do have amazing friends with wonderfully organized minds. I so envy them.

Anyway, the phone distracted me in the middle of this. I answered it, talked to my son. Forgot what I was doing, and took a shower. Came back to the kitchen remembering that the coffee pot was still on. Saw the half-finished blog.

In a towel. Surely, I will remember to get dressed before heading for the accountants.

Man, it’s kind of hot in here.

Oh, the air-conditioner.

I’m back from RT and I am exhausted! But you understand the consequences before attending the convention.  RT is always exhausting.  For the most part it’s a good kind of exhaustion.  You meet beaucoup booksellers and readers and, best of all, friends like the marvelous S.J. Day and Karin Tabke.  Thanks, S.J., for the chocolate martini!  And, Karin, for the smoke!  I also briefly saw Roxanne St. Claire there, but she was always busy doing exactly what authors should do at RT–networking.  Also, I chatted with Heather Graham, another of my MurderSheWrites pals!

Peggy Webb, my traveling buddy, and I arrived via car (all the way from Tupelo, MS) late on Wednesday night.  We were both exhausted.  The last few hours we were certain that we were never going to get to Orlando and that the lovely Turnpike was surely a direct route to hell.  Since we lost an hour (eastern time down there you know) we arrived about eleven p.m.  I was so tired from driving all day that all I wanted to do was hit the sack–except I was at RT. I had to see who was there.  So we made our way around to the various sitting areas and the bars just to see who we recognized.  Back at the room we met CJ Lyons, another fabulous author, and our rooming buddy.  I slept like the dead!  The next morning it was off to the corridors of the convention center.  Oh, the wonderful people–all of whom love what I love–books!  Coffee and lots of chatting and panels where I saw more fabulous authors talking about how they do what they do was the schedule for the day.  I also dropped in on a couple of publisher spotlights and heard how folks in NY are handling publishing in today’s economy.

This year there were notably more male authors than usual–that was extra cool.  Guys like Barry Eisler and my pal Robert Gregory Brown and fellow panel members Andrew Peterson, Tom Lowe and Cody McFadyen.  And more booksellers!  RT has done a great job of drawing those independent booksellers.  Marvelous folks from far and wide!  We won’t even go into the cover models–Wow!  The parties–a party every single night with a different theme.  The Vampire Ball which is always amazing, was exactly that this time.  Heather and pals (big shout out to Alex Sokolof, Harley Jane Kozak and F. Paul Wilson) put on a great show.  Always an entertaining event, especially since I shared a table with Peggy, SJ and Karin!  I was too tired to stay for the rest of the party and the costume contest since I’d captained two panels (shout out to Karen Rose for starring on one of those panels) that morning and helped Harlequin make presentations at the luncheon.

On Saturday CJ Lyons, Peggy Webb and I had breakfast with one of the industry’s legends–Joan Johnston!  She picked us up at the hotel in her new Volkswagen Beetle convertible.  It was so cool!  Joan is in a class all her own.  She used to practice law and she knows her stuff!  Then we were off to the booksigning event.  Wow!  So many authors in one room!  Amazing, amazing, amazing!

Then came the drive back home.  I arrived home late Sunday night, once more totally exhausted.  As I drove those last few miles I asked myself was it really worth it?  The answer is YES!!!  No matter whether you’ve had one book published or dozens, there is a moment that always, always happens at RT that makes all the exhaustion so damned worth it.  I had sneaked out of the awards ceremony to have a smoke where the rocking chairs were kept outside (down here we’d call that a porch).  I was digging frantically in my purse for a lighter as I pushed through the doors onto the “porch.”  Three young women stopped talking and looked up.  I thought oh, God, they were having a private conversation and I’ve intruded.  However, I didn’t care cause I had to have that frigging smoke.  So, I lit up and savored the chemicals contaminating my lungs.  Before I could take the second drag, the three women edged cautiously toward me and one asked, “Are you THE Debra Webb?”  I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and replied, “Yes.”  They burst into animated dialog saying things like, “We love your books!”  That, my friends, was worth every moment of sheer exhaustion.

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I’ve been dealing with jaw pain for three weeks now. Don’t ask…it’s boring. Eventually we’ll get it resolved.

But do you think I’ve lost any weight? BWHAHAHAHA!!! Want to guess what I can eat? ICE CREAM. Even though I’ve only eaten, in three weeks, maybe four servings of ice cream, it’s STUCK to me like fangirls on JR Ward.

How is that fair?

I’m starting to blame my new book for the jaw pain. I’m pretty sure the book hates me. My hero is so hard to crack. He doesn’t share his thoughts or feelings so how am I supposed to tell his story? I have two semi-solid chapters and about a 100 pages of crap in my cut file. Those 100 pages are dead to me. I only keep them in my cut file because if I delete them then I will need them.

Is it any wonder my jaw hurts? Wouldn’t that make you grind your teeth?

I will win though. I may break my jaw in the process, but I will get this book written and in on time. I Will Win! I will not let a hero that I created beat me.

Clearly I’m a little tense and need a distraction, yes? So I’ve been carving out some reading time. I’m reading a paranormal where the characters had sex outside, and up against the car. I really like this book, and the sex scene was half way through, well motivated, and it worked find except…I found myself worrying when they started stripping outside. Can anyone see them? Are they worried about it?

Note the irony—I’ve written sex scenes that take place outside. I tried to assure the readers that the characters were safe from prying eyes, but who knows if it worked.

But all this got me to thinking. Where is the weirdest or most unusual place I’ve read a sex scene take place in a book? The best answer I can pull out of my fried brain is;

On A Horse. Yeah, I don’t suggest trying that one in real life.

What about you all? Do you remember reading love scenes that took place in weird or unusual places? (Remember to your answers appropriate all for a public blog!)

Somehow, I got corralled into cooking hamburger (taco meat) for 50 people, and I’m still not entirely sure how it happened. One minute they were passing around a signup sheet, and I happened to get it last, and the next minute, I’d been cornered. There was nothing LEFT but meat, so I said, “Okay, sure, I’ll bring some meat.” Somehow, that turned into me cooking ALL the meat and people giving me money.

As you can tell, I haven’t really mastered the art of being a government worker. If I’d done it properly, I would have handed two dollars to someone and they would have MAGICALLY appeared the day of the Taco Potluck with a great big vat of cooked taco meat. But no, I still have a lot to learn, and thus, I ended up doing the cooking.

Now, I’m not really a fan of hamburger, and the whole cooking process makes me a little nauseated, so this has been a chore. Besides the fact that I had to cook a GAZILLION pounds, and it has taken me about two hours. You can’t cook taco meat halfway, you know. There’s that whole e-coli thing. And then there’s the seasoning. I KNOW how to season two pounds of meat. How does one season a GAZILLION pounds? And how does one know when it is properly seasoned?

God forbid I might have to taste it, because after two hours of cooking it, all I want to do is throw it out the freaking window! Or feed it to the dog. He would, of course, eat it all, and then roll over and DIE, because he is not the smartest dog in the world (he thinks the doorbell is for him EVERY time it rings. Even though it never, never is.). A gazillion pounds is a lot of meat for a little shih tzu.

I have entertained calling in sick tomorrow, because that is a very “government-like” thing to do, and it would be pretty freaking ass funny, except I would never be able to show my face at work again. These people take their potlucks and treat days seriously.

I would be stoned. I mean literally stoned, like the old days “stoned to death” with rocks. Not stoned like the lady who sits across from me worshiping Jim Morrison, and putting voodoo spells on everyone who pisses her off (all of us, on different days). That, my friends, is a whole DIFFERENT kind of stoned.

While I was cooking this hamburger, and plotting my immediate conversion to vegetarianism–because let me tell you, hamburger meat is disgusting–I started thinking about how easy it would be to poison people. I mean, think about it. How many picnics, potlucks, parties, banquets, soirees, etc., are held EVERY single day? BY very trusting people! I mean, when was the last time you got ready for the Superbowl, thinking, “You know, I better take my own food, because I believe it’s entirely possible Helen is going to try to kill me off so she can marry my husband, and become the mistress of my household.”

Let’s face it, we don’t think about it.

I think we got a wakeup call not too long ago when the infamous Dominos video was posted on Youtube.

I promise, I have not done anything disgusting to this taco meat.

But let’s face it. It would be pretty easy to do, if I wanted to do so.

Sometimes we get too meticulous in our plotting and thinking, when it would really be very, very easy to just poison the taco meat for the work potluck.

Hmm. I think I just scared myself…. I wonder if Voodoo Lady is bringing anything…..

I love my agent and think she’s the greatest thing since the discovery that grapes can ferment into wine, but she doesn’t have a blog and I love agent blogs. I regularly visit Kristin Nelson at Pub Rants and Nathan Bransford and on occasion BookEnds and a few others.

A few weeks ago, Curtis Brown agent Nathan Bransford solicited queries from both published and unpublished authors. On a whim (or a completely idiotic moment) I sent him the query I’d sent my agent Kim Whalen in December of 2003, for THE COPYCAT KILLER.

For those who knew me then (Karin) know that THE COPYCAT KILLER was my title for the book that eventually became THE PREY. It was my fifth completed manuscript and I felt that the book had “it” — whatever “it” is. I couldn’t define it, I just sensed that this was the book I would sell.

In hindsight, I think I figured out why it worked for my agent and the editor who bought it, but that’s another blog for another time . . . but at the time I sent the query, I just had the feeling. Can’t explain why.

So you don’t have to click through to read my letter, here it is:

Dear Agent for a Day:

I have been seriously writing for nearly two years and am a finalist in fourteen RWA contests with twelve different books, including second place in the Daphne du Maurier Single Title category. THE COPYCAT KILLER ranked second in the Golden Opportunity contest. I’m a member of the Sacramento Valley, Kiss of Death and FF&P Chapters of RWA, and earned my PRO pin.

Why do some children grow up evil? That is the timeless question addressed in THE COPYCAT KILLER.

Ex-FBI agent turned fiction crime writer Rowan Smith wakes up one morning to discover someone is using her books as blueprints for murder.

Her former FBI boss fears one of her past arrests is out to terrorize her and insists she hire a bodyguard, or he’ll assign two FBI agents to watch her. Rowan, who relishes her privacy and solitary life, doesn’t want a bodyguard, but reluctantly hires ex-cop Michael Flynn.

The killer systematically goes through each book and chooses a victim, sending mementoes of the crime to Rowan. Michael’s brother, freelance DEA agent John Flynn, accuses Rowan of hiding something and calls in favors to learn enough to confront her. She confesses that her father and brother killed her family. Her father is in a mental institution and her brother was killed trying to escape. They fall into bed needing a physical connection. The murderer kills Michael that night.

John and Rowan deal with their guilt over Michael’s murder as they work with the FBI to find the murderer. They discover that Rowan’s boss lied to her about her brother’s death–he’s in a Texas penitentiary. But when they go there to confront him, they discover that someone took his place.

THE COPYCAT KILLER is a 100,000 word suspense novel with romantic elements, in the vein of Iris Johansen, Lisa Gardner and Tami Hoag.

In addition to THE COPYCAT KILLER, I have two additional single-title romantic suspense novels, a futuristic suspense currently under consideration at Dorchester, and a women’s fiction novel with a ghost as a main character.

A full is available upon request. Thank you for taking the time to consider my story.

Sincerely,
Author

Nathan asked for the letters for his “Agent for a Day” contest where writers could pretend they were agents and request or reject manuscripts based on a one-page query letter. The “Agents” could only request five manuscripts, and they were told that there were three queries that led to published books among the fifty posted.

The whole thing stemmed from that agent twitter thing that I didn’t follow and still don’t get, except that apparently a bunch of authors were ticked off that some agents were cruel in their rejections.

Welcome to the real world, Neo.

All I have to say to anyone who feels such is to read some of the one-and-two-star reviews at Amazon. Feel free to read what people say about my books. Develop a thick skin and get over it, or you’ll never survive this business with your sanity intact.

So with nearly 300 comments, my query had a 15% request rate. Compare that to the 59% request rate I had when I originally sent it.

Some of the comments about why they were passing:

1) I listed my bio first.

I may be wrong, but I think this is a dumb reason for rejecting a query. Maybe it’s not standard form, but to reject an idea because of format of a letter seems a bit short-sighted.

After the contest was over, Nathan said:

But more importantly, I think this contest goes to show how people may have overemphasized the query itself when they were playing agents. The queries that generated the highest response rate were the most technically precise. They were tidy, they were well-organized, they followed the rules. They were good queries (and some of them may go on to have success stories of their own). But this wasn’t a contest to spot the best queries.

When an agent is reading a query we’re trying to look past the query to get a sense of the underlying book. We’re evaluating the concept and the writing, not ticking off a box of requirements. . . .

. . . A good concept and strong writing are more important than good query form. . . .

Now, a strong query helps your odds and your request rate . . . But remember: the most important thing is not writing a good query, but rather writing a good book. A strong concept is so important.

2) Work sounds too familiar.

I didn’t take offense to these comments because this book was written in 2003, sold in 2004 and published in January 06.

However, how some of the “agents” felt my book was too similar to a 90s movie COPYCAT. I never saw the movie, so I looked it up–though I was comfortable in my ignorance to say that my book was nothing like it. I was right. The movie’s premise was about a serial killer recreating famous murders of the past. (Great idea! I want to see the movie now.) My book was recreating the fictional murders of a crime writer. Since CASTLE just came out this year, I’m pretty safe in saying I had my idea first. But in all honesty, you can give 100 authors the same premise and you’ll still have 100 distinctly different stories. Creativity is truly individual, and there are no new ideas.

On concepts, Nathan said:

One of the reasons that the agents for a day missed some of the actually published works is that the queries did not demonstrate wholly original concepts. They possibly sounded like they had been done before.

But here’s the thing about book concepts: originality is (somewhat) overrated.

[snip]

About once a generation a Mary Shelley or H.G. Wells or Tolkien or S.E. Hinton comes along to invent a new genre basically from scratch. Odds are you’re not that person (although if you are, I want to meet you).

All the rest of the mortals on the planet, even our best writers, are working within fairly established genres and tropes.

There were detective novels before George Pelecanos, there were dragon and boy stories before Christopher Paolini, there were wizard school books before J.K. Rowling, there were mistaken guilt stories before Ian Mcwan’s ATONEMENT. What sets these writers apart is a unique take on an established trope. And ultimately that comes down to execution.

What is a unique take on an established trope? It varies from book to book. . . .

. . . it’s very nearly impossible to be wholly original. Even when new genres are invented they tend to use classic story arcs that have been around for millennia — the coming of age story, the great man with a fatal flaw, the hubris tragedy, the celebrity memoir. When new genres are invented they just place these stories in a new world.

Unless it is truly out there, pretty much everything is a fresh take on an existing trope. It really does need to feel fresh, but that’s not the same as being completely original. The originality is all about how it’s done, not what it’s about.

3) Comparing myself to other authors.

In the letter, I stated that my book may appeal to readers who enjoy Lisa Gardner, Iris Johansen and Tami Hoag. Why? Because I wanted my prospective agent to immediately see the market I was aiming for. In truth, my books have a bit more romance in them than those three write today, but at the time (early 2000s) they were all writing edgy romantic suspense/thrillers, which is what I was writing. I wasn’t saying I wrote like them, or was better than them, or was the “next” one of them. I simply said that their readers may like my tone, and I still believe this is a great way to show an agent your intended market.

4) “The story sounds as though it might be interesting, but the query itself isn’t.” . . . “I can see where this would be an intriguing story and an edge of your seat suspense, but this blurb doesn’t get me there.”

I think one of the main points of Nathan’s exercise is that agents are trained, through experience and instinct, to pull the story from the query. If they think they can sell the story, if it’s something they have passion or interest in, they’ll request pages. A sharp query letter may get an author read, but in the end, it’s ALWAYS about the writing. Hmm, I wonder if he would have requested mine? Probably not, because I don’t think he represents romantic suspense, even darker RS like I write. One of the queries I would have requested wasn’t the best query in the pile, but it had something special about it that had me intrigued enough that I wanted to see if the author was a good storyteller.

Many authors have been rejected on their first novel. Nicholas Sparks has a great article here on his website about how he found his agent for THE NOTEBOOK. He queried 25 agents and 24 rejected him, even after reading his book.

But it only takes one.

So what did this exercise teach me?

1) I like rejection. I must have been a masochist in a previous life.

2) I appreciate more the experience and wisdom of good agents who can pull the idea from the query, because it’s not as easy as it looks. (I picked only one of the other two published books; only two of nearly 300 “agents” picked all three published books.)

3) I was lucky that my agent got past my imperfect query and thought my concept had merit, because good queries with strong concepts are still better.

4) It’s still all about the writing.

So do you think you could be an agent? Do you think you can look past technical imperfection and find the nugget of a good story? Do you think that agents are cruel in their rejections? Should they give more? What if they don’t know why they don’t want to see it, it just doesn’t speak to them?

Definitely some things to think about.

I also have some good news. My fabulous agent sold the first two books of my Lucy Kincaid series to Ballantine. Woo hoo! I am so excited about writing Lucy’s books. She is such a compelling character for me, and this will be a little bit different (but the same . . . ha!) They’ll be romantic thrillers, but there’ll be a multi-book relationship and two love interests. I’m really excited . . . the first comes out in October of 2010. But that’s after the first two books in my Seven Deadly Sins series (March 2010 and June 2010.)

Comment, share, tell us about your queries, rejections, agents, favorite blogs, or anything else that comes to mind!

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Ya know, sometimes we get so caught up in all this writing and work hoohah that we forget about what’s really important. Someone sent me a reminder the other day that really struck home, and I thought I’d share it with you. Because at the end of the ‘day’, you know the day I mean…the one where you clock out for good… all of life’s lessons will come home to roost. Did we learn from them? Ignore them? Did they matter more than the friggin’ deadlines that give writers premature wrinkles and gray hair? Here are five pretty important lessons for any one lifetime….

1 – First Important Lesson – Cleaning Lady.

During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read the last one:

‘What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?’

Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50′s, but how would I know her name?

I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.

‘Absolutely,’ said the professor. ‘In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say ‘hello.’

I’ve never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

2. – Second Important Lesson – Pickup in the Rain

One night, at 11:3 0 p..m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.

Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.

A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 60s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.

She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man’s door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home with a special note attached.

It read: ‘Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along.

Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband’s bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.’
Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.

3 – Third Important Lesson – Always Remember Those Who Serve.

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.

‘How much is an ice cream sundae?’ he asked.

‘Fifty cents,’ replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it. ‘Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?’ he inquired.

By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.

‘Thirty-five cents,’ she brusquely replied.

The little boy again counted his coins. ‘I’ll have the plain ice cream,’ he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The
boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies. You see, he couldn’t have the sundae because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.

4 – Fourth Important Lesson. – The Obstacle in Our Path.

In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock Some of the king’s wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it.

Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.

Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded.

After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King, indicating that the gold was for the
person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand.

Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.

5 – Fifth Important Lesson – Giving When It Counts.

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her five-year-old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness.

The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.

The boy hesitated for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, ‘Yes I’ll do it if it will save her.’

As the transfusion progressed, the boy lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, ‘Will I start to die right away.’

Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he
was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her but he had chosen to save her anyway.

Now I ask you, when looked at that simply . . . ain’t life grand?

This was a tough task when I’m trying to pack for RT and watch American Idol. I had to call in the experts, getting the D-man himself in here to review chants and cheers after a weekend of training. After the judge’s careful review, the winner is….Sandi Fitch Hutton!!! What put Sandi’s cheer over the edge? D-man says “she knows he has green eyes.” Shazaaaam, baby! This is a Dan Fan! Our young leader-to-be was also impressed by her dual entry, proving she wants it. And so she shall get it!

Congratulations to Sandi (email me at roxannestc@cfl.rr.com with your snail mail addy) and THANK YOU for all the lovely comments today. I hope to see many of you this week at RT and more this summer at RWA. (Ahem Kellie and Anne!)

Rock on, chanters. I’m off to Orlando!