I wrote Salt under the pen name of Laura Adams for the Naiad Press anthology The Touch of Her Hand. The story is a single voice grieving over a broken relationship Read More
For anyone who is curious about why I chose a cheese souffle recipe to include in Making Up for Lost Time, here’s the story of how souffle made its way into my life. I wanted a simplified version of a fancy dish for my character to include in her first cookbook, so I chose Maria’s “Simple Cheese Souffle.” This pic of the recipe is from the Silver Moon Books edition of the novel.
On National Souffle Day, be inspired to make one. It is as natural as breathing.
Source: The Magic Flourish at Dinner
The post-writer phase of producing a manuscript for typeset has two stages: editing and proofreading. I talked about the unicorn ride with sprinkles that editing is for me, and that is always my favorite part.
Now, however, it’s time to confess what all the editing, spell and grammar check, reading aloud and rereading in the world didn’t find: 114 mistakes in 90K+ words, or one every third page or so. Enough for any seasoned reader to Read More
After the many agonies and few ecstasies of completing the first draft of a book, editing is a joyful unicorn ride with candy and magic sprinkles.
That’s Right, Editing is a Joyful Unicorn Ride
When I finally type the words The End, my writer brain loathes the book and regrets ever becoming a writer when accounting was so, so much easier. Then ping! Editor Brain takes over and we’re in love. So much to critique and fix. Seriously, this happens about five minutes after Writer Brain has slunk into the darkness dragging what’s left of the Pringles Read More
I have two reasons to reblog this. First, my spouse doesn’t know that’s a thing, so you know, a little education for the retiree. Second, when I prank all y’all on Friday with this oldie but goodie:
and you fall for it for even two seconds, that’s on you. Just sayin’.
Wherein Bella Books reveals one of my fetishes.
Go see: Fun Fact: Karin Kallmaker
I was enjoying the great outdoors at the mall, like you do, which included a long looping walk both indoors and out. Don’t scoff, I racked up 7 miles. Plus it’s a large mall and there are stairs in plenty. On a surprisingly warm winter day, I wove my way outside to warm up and inside to cool off. Outside to marvel at the plum trees snowing down white blossoms on the sidewalks and back inside to stop sneezing.
During one of my outdoor swings a mid-thirties man in a truck slowed in the parking lot, obviously wanting to ask me a question.
Did I mention it was two days before Read More
When you’ve been writing for twenty-mumble years, it’s a lot like living in the same house for that length of time. You accumulate trunks full of treasures because there’s just not enough shelf space to display everything. Fortunately, there’s no limit on shelf space in the digital world, so I figured it’s time to dust off a lot of my treasures and put them out for all to see.
Do Overs and two more Stories of Lesbian Love and Sensuality is three of those treasures in one little package. The two additional storiesRead More
“Everywhere” might be an exaggeration, but readers from Japan to India, Alaska to Australia can now download Comfort and Joy from their favorite e-tailer. Below is a list of direct links to help you find it wherever in the world you are.
More story information and a free sample that you can read without a download. Linkapalooza? Scroll down…
Create Community, Share Your Honest Opinion
Have you read Comfort and Joy? Like any author, I’d be thrilled if you shared your opinion with others to help them decide if it’s a story they might like. Just be honest. A simple star-rating at Goodreads, short or long review at your favorite e-tailer — it’s pure comfort and joy to authors and creates community with other lesfic readers.
Word of mouth, reader to reader, is still the most powerful force of all. Again, thank you. And thank you, and you, and you — and you.
The Linkapalooza for Comfort and Joy
Milla Zajac is home for the holidays. It’s a surprise for her mother, and a promise of the best apple pie on the planet and plenty of unrationed hot showers. Her winding path home leads her to Tyna, and thoughts of a future that seemed out of reach. (Excerpt below.)
Available at my web store for $2.99 in both DRM-free epub and mobi formats, the story is over 15,000 words – and who knows? It’s possible I’ll pen a sequel. My web store accepts all credit cards through PayPal Processing Services.
Readers have written that it’s a highly enjoyable re-read every year. A former solider said she loved the line, “Don’t call me ma’am. I’m enlisted. I work for a living.” For myself, I enjoyed writing this novella so much, including the research. Revisiting it to produce my own ebook versions was great fun. Milla Zajac was a character who arrived fully formed in my mind, needing to explain why she was visiting a cemetery on Christmas Eve.
This novella was originally released in 2012 and until now has only been available at BellaBooks.com. Please don’t buy it twice. (It’s so disappointing when I think I’m getting something new and it turns out to be something I’ve already read!) Here’s the Bella cover to jog your memory. Aside from minor edits and corrections, the difference between the editions is purely cosmetic.
P.S. To Spellcheck – you can mark “duffel” all you want but that’s how the Army spells it and they know more about them than you do.
Excerpt from Comfort and Joy
by Karin Kallmaker
The quiet but close crunch of footsteps behind her made her turn around. For a moment, in a flash of sunlight, it seemed as if the white-robed figure was floating over the snowy ground toward her. She blinked the image away and the solid form of a woman emerged, one who was definitely leaving footprints in the snow. The robes were indeed white, but the sturdy, practical wool coat draped over her shoulders and heavy snow boots made her solid and real.
She stopped a few feet from where Milla stood. “I don’t mean to intrude, but are you okay?”
If the woman was past thirty it wasn’t by much. She can’t have been ordained long, Milla thought. Dark hair had been mostly pushed up into a knit cap similar to the ones Milla had worn every winter of her life, though she’d have never chosen bright red. She shivered slightly, aware that a world away a bright red cap was asking to be a sniper target.
“I’m fine. Just paying my respects.”
“Home to visit family?”
Milla nodded, wondering if the pastor thought she might be a vet with no place to go. “Surprising my mom later. She thinks I’m home a week from now.”
A smile broke across the narrow face, lighting up the gray eyes. “How nice! You’re getting somewhere warm soon, though?”
In the last few minutes the snowflakes had gotten bigger and heavier. The champagne powder would be gone in a couple of hours and the pristine white roads would turn to slush. She looked down at Gracie’s grave. She wondered if Gracie’s mom ever visited — she’d tossed Gracie out of her life on two counts: drugs and being gay. What had seemed a gentle, purifying cover of snow now seemed unfeeling and sterile. No holly or ivy, no pine boughs. “My brother is picking me up in a while. He wraps up his last work shift soon.”
“I was going to get something hot — cocoa or coffee. Care to join me?”
For a moment she was annoyed at becoming some pastor’s rescue project but she was feeling the cold through her boots now. Her station gloves were worthless against the cold. She remembered where she was in time to hold back the casual “Fuck yeah” she’d have said to Brent. “I’d like that. Thank you. But one last thing I want to do.”
She set her patrol cap on the duffel at her feet, turned her back to Gracie’s grave and let herself fall into the soft, welcoming snow. Powder puffed up past her ears and settled on her face.
The pastor laughed. After Milla completed several prone jumping jacks, she helped her get up again.
“Very nice,” she said, surveying the snow angel.
Feeling a little foolish, Milla dusted snow off her short cropped hair and pulled her cap on again. “It won’t last, but Gracie would have liked it.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“A friend.” She hefted her duffel onto one shoulder and settled the weight across her back. “We were close before I enlisted.”
They walked toward the nearest gate out of the cemetery. “How long ago was that?”
“Two years and then some. I haven’t seen her since, and she was going places I couldn’t follow.” Just outside the gate was the Highland Presbyterian Church, a small building Milla had never had reason to notice before. “Is that one yours?”
“Yes. Small but mighty in the Lord,” she said with a smile. “It’s the unofficial church that goes with the cemetery, so when I see a service and have the time I like to step out and say a prayer as well. I’ve only been the pastor for four months, so we’ve yet to see if I’ll be a success.”
Noting that the Christmas Eve sermon was to be Love Thy Neighbor — Is that So Hard? Milla asked, “You’re Celestyna Gorski?”
“Sorry, that was rude of me.” Celestyna held out her hand as they walked. “Pleased to meet you…?”
“Milla.” She brushed her fingertip over the nametape on her ACU jacket before shaking hands. “Zajac, Specialist, United States Army Signal Corps. Your parents were thinking ahead with a name like Celestyna?”
“Absolutely. I was supposed to be a Catholic nun. Second-born daughter and all that, but I was called a different direction. Most people call me Tyna. Except for my grandmother.”
“I don’t think I could call you Tyna.” She waved a hand. “You’re all pastory and priesty.”
“You’re in uniform too, so it doesn’t seem quite right to call you Milla. I should call you ma’am, perhaps?” Tyna was smiling, clearly amused at the idea.
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m enlisted. I work for a living.”
Tyna gave her a lopsided grin as they waited for the pedestrian light on the busy corner. “Milla it is then, so you have to call me Tyna.”
“What would your congregation think?”
“They call me Pastor Tyna, except for the members of the Auxiliary.” She waved an unadorned but elegant hand at her plain robes. “I normally don’t wear these except during services, but there was a dispute to settle with the decorating committee and the ladies only listen when I’m all pastory and priesty, as you say.”
“You set them straight?” Milla put out a hand to keep Tyna from stepping into the street as a late car pushing the red light roared past them.
“Thanks — I didn’t see that coming.” Tyna led the way across the intersection. “The last thing I can do with the Auxiliary is tell them what to do. That’s a fool’s errand. All I did was confirm that they were in fact referring to the correct minutes of the meeting in the summer where they planned out the ribbon colors for the flowers for all the holidays for the rest of the year. Yes, they had indeed chosen blue for Christmas Eve. Mrs. Stewart thought it was mocking Hanukkah and Mrs. Wubizcek felt it was a nice tribute to the pagan aspects of the season. I saw a funeral out the window and ran for it. Even now my phone is vibrating non-stop.”
“Well, that could be—” Milla stopped herself just in time. “The politics must be hard.”
Tyna gave her a sideways look as she veered toward the door to the Tim Horton’s. “What were you going to say?”
“What?” Milla tried an innocent look. It didn’t work on base, but stateside maybe it would.
“You were going to say that a constantly vibrating phone could be fun? Or, uh, interesting?”
Milla was glad her already ruddy cheeks wouldn’t show the blush she felt rising. She doffed her cap and tucked it under her arm as she negotiated her heavy duffel through the double doorways. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m ordained. I’m not dead.”
The hubbub inside the shop kept Milla from having to answer. After consultation, Tyna ordered the beverages and refused Milla’s attempt to pay for them, or at least her own cocoa. “But just so you know, I keep my phone in the back pocket of my slacks. Kind of hoping it’ll work off the flab.”
“So this is a serious case of being AWOL?” Well, if people gave someone in military dress a bit of a berth, someone in religious garb got even more space. As soon as they both had their drinks a table near the window cleared the moment they walked up, everyone smiling and sharing, “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays.”
Tyna slid into the chair nearest the door. “I’m sure they’re panicking and yet I’m sure they’ll cope.”
Milla managed to get her duffel stowed so it wasn’t in the way and set her patrol cap and gloves on top of it. She settled into the chair opposite Tyna with a sigh of relief. The hot paper cup felt good against her fingers.
You see them everywhere this month. Pink ribbons on bags of cookies, running shoes, cereal and gift wrap. The rest of the year there are banners or ribbons festooned throughout the retail world on behalf of many other causes. After an encounter with a box of cereal, I am trying to be blind to all those ribbons and banners on ordinary things I buy. Because:
- Too often there’s no link between my purchases and how much is given to the charity, or the correlation is vague
- Whoops, my money doesn’t go where I would really prefer it to, if I gave it some thought
- Complicated decisions aren’t my forte when all I want is a cake mix
My “Support” Has No Financial Impact
So what about that bottle of sports drink with the ribbons or other charity support packaging? Read More