Book Review: The Forest for the Trees by Betsy Lerner

First of all, I love any writer who shares a first name with me. Betsy Lerner and I are also writers. Beyond that, I doubt there are many similarities.

Lerner divides her book into two main sections: writing and publishing. She makes clear that these are not the same, although no one is published without writing first. She explains that there are different types of writers. The ambivalent writer has so many ideas for projects that few if any are begun, let alone finished. The natural writer, a rare beast, perhaps even an endangered species, seems to have all the right words in all the right order without having to learn the craft of writing. The wicked child uses her family as the jumping off point for characters and plots. Right or wrong, often she trashes her family all in the name of art. Others are the self-promoter, the neurotic and those touching fire. Most writers will find themselves in one if not more of her types.

In the second half of the book, publishing, Lerner gives terrific advice on seeking and landing an agent (she herself is one and knows of what she writes), handling rejection (even Stephen King garnered a stack of rejections before his first sale), knowing what editors are looking for, knowing what you as a writer wants, working on the book with your editor and marketing your work after publication.

I recommend this to anyone who is starting out as a writer. Lerner pulls no punches yet leaves you laughing at some of her lessons. They serves beginning authors well. Those of us who have published a book or books already can still learn from this book. It's a reference book full of common sense and oft overlooked advice on how to behave as a writer.

It should be on every writer's bookshelf -- after the writer has read it.

Writing Process Blog Tour - Betsy Ashton

My incredibly talented writer friend, Maggie King, author of Murder at the Book Group, and contributor to Virginia Is for Mysteries, tossed me the baton for the Writing Process Blog Tour. Does that mean I can sit back and think cute thoughts? No, it means I have to answer four very ordinary questions.

1. What am I working on? 
Heck, how does any writer answer that question? I always have at least three works in process. Right now, my second edition in the Mad Max series is with my agent for final edits before it goes to my publisher. This one has a working title of Uncharted Territory. It's locked for now, so I turned to two other projects. I'm workshopping my serial killer psychological crime story with a few trusted beta readers, while doing a ton of research on viruses and plagues for the third Mad Max entry. Plus I charted out two novellas in the mystery/crime genre.

2. Why do I write what I write? 
I write because I breathe. It's as simple as that. I love to write about strong women who aren't cute and in their twenties. Max is in her fifties, still sexy, still rich, still interesting. The killer is younger and deeply troubled about her calling in life, which is to kill people who she feels need killing. So, I write what I want to know about, because I certainly don't have first-hand knowledge about killing people. Or do I?

3. How does my work differ from others in the genre? 
I drive my agent nuts, because my mysteries don't start with a crime. No murders, no robberies right away. I start in the main character's head and examine what makes they do what they do. So, I don't spend a lot of time worrying about the narrower rules of a genre. Psychological fiction appeals to me, the darker the better. Even when my main character isn't dark, and Max is anything but dark, I surround her with evil and conflict so that she can grow. Some readers might be disappointed because I'm not "like" <fill in the name of a prominent mystery/crime writer here>. Yup. That's true. Sobeit.

4. What is my writing process? 
I plant my butt on my ball at my desk seven days a week. Yes, I sit on a balance ball instead of in a chair. I often edit hard copy standing at my breakfast bar. I work on something, even if it's bad, every day, usually for 4-5 hours at a stroke. I treat writing as my career, which it is since I retired from earning a paycheck. I rise, shower, dress and put on makeup as if I were going to an office. Discipline keeps me focused on the job at hand, to wit, churning out words, some of which might actually work. Others might be keepers. Still others are terrific except not where they are or in the manuscript where I think they'll be perfect. No bunny slippers, no pajamas. I do take time out to feed my stuffed llama and a thread-bare bear. Otherwise, they'll eat me alive.

I'm passing the baton to Kimberly Dalferes, author of I Was In Love With A Short Man Once, Mary Billiter, author of The XYZ Affair and Susan Union, author of Rode to Death, a mystery set on a horse ranch near San Diego and is the first in the Randi Sterling Mystery Series. 

I'll let each of these ladies tell you about themselves.

I can't wait to see what each of these ladies write about. And thanks to Maggie King for inviting me to hop on this tour.

From Voices in Our Heads to Voice on Paper

Writers joke about listening to the voices in our heads. When we don't hear anything, we have writer's block. Translating the voice in the head to the voice on a printed or "e" page can be difficult.

When I was at the Tinker Mountain Writers Workshop this year, Dan Mueller gave me some great advice that added richness to what I was workshopping. I write almost exclusively in first person singular. I have a strong, mouthy main character, Mad Max, who takes us through her story. Dan suggested I combine Max's voice was a narrator's voice. Let me show you what he suggested.

I have a scene where Max knocks at a door, which is opened by a child. The child hesitates, then let's Max in. Here's what I wrote:

Marianna's frightened eyes flared as she peered at me.

"Don't worry. I came alone."

She started to close the door, then changed her mind. She opened it enough to let me slip in.

Dan made several suggestions. One was to show Marianna's fear better. Yup, old show versus tell. He also said I could describe the room once Max was inside, because the things in a place create a vivid fictional world. While I don't want to pad the narrative with extraneous words, this made sense. My next draft reads:

Marianna stood in the open doorway, her hands twisting the hem of her tee-shirt. She looked past me to see if Emilie was with me.

"Don't worry. I came alone."

She hesitated before stepping aside to let me enter. As soon as I was inside, she closed and locked the door.

Three days earlier, the room was clean and neat. Today, dust dimmed the polished table tops. Light came through a four-inch gap in the drapes and left cross-hatched shadows on the wrinkled rug. A book lay on the floor, its pages ripped out.

Marianna closed the drapes. Not before I saw the dark bruise on the side of her face, though.

Now, I could have said squishy things like, "Max looked around the room." But once Max is in the room, the  narrator's voice can fill in some "stuff" details.

Don't know if I'll use something like the second example, but it does open different ways of presenting scene and action. Gave me lots of room for creative thought.

Hey writers, ideas???

Reading and Writing

I devoted a lot of time over the Thanksgiving weekend to reading and writing. I was coming down with a cold, so I got really sluggish at times. So what did I read and what did I write?

I read Charles Shields's bio of Kurt Vonnegut. It's terrific, the kind of bio that keeps you turning pages because it's so damned well written. And Kurt Vonnegut was a strange bird. Shields doesn't pull any punches about what a screw-up Vonnegut was at times. Well worth the time to learn about a great writer who wasn't afraid to break new ground.

What else did I read? This answer is all about me. I blew cyberdust of a manuscript I wrote several years ago. It's a coming-of-age trilogy about a circle of women. The first book is about growing up in a Leave It To Beaver town in Northern California as the fifties transitioned into the sixties. The second is about getting out of that town, college at Berkeley during the turbulent sixties. And the final book follows the women into marriage, motherhood and careers. All fraught with personal conflict set against a time of major transition in our country's history.

I got through the first 200,200 words, or about the first two books. After several years of not looking at the manuscript, I was surprised at how well I told the story.

And therein lies the problem. The story is told. I now have to redo it completely and let the characters and action show the story. Writers will understand what I mean. A monumental task, but there is no deadline on it. Yet.

And yes, I did write as well. I began a first-person thriller about a serial killer. Lots of them on the market, but this will have a different presentation and therefore a different twist. I've invited about a dozen people to join a closed Facebook group to help shape the novel. Now, that should be an experience.

I'll keep you posted on progress on both stories.

Proofreading

Have I mentioned before how much I despise proofreading? It's that necessary evil, the last step before I think "I'd done." I can only proof for about an hour at a time, so I have to break up a manuscript into easier-to-swallow bites. (Or should it be easier-to-proof pages??)

Still, it has to be done, so I pulled out my red pens and my reading mask. No, not one that goes over my eyes (although . . .) but one that only exposes a single line of text. I read from bottom to top, right to left, word by word. It's tedious but any wrong word, any grammo, any typo pop out.

At any rate, this weekend was warm and sunny, so proofing on the deck with water lapping on the dock was relaxing. Too relaxing, because I kept dozing off. Maybe it was the sun on my face. Maybe it was the droning of the carpenter bees looking for a spot to drill. Maybe it was the pfssst from the wasp spray on any bee with the audacity to land on our log home. Maybe it was the incredibly dull writing style. Whatever.

I can never tell my friend that her work put me to sleep. I think I go back and finish proofing my manuscript. I don't fall asleep in it.

Would that the last two best sellers I read had editors who took the time to read thoroughly and make all the necessary changes. Sigh.

Re-emergence

The first signs of spring are here:

peepers singing at dusk and dawn
earthworms on the sidewalk
sun higher in the sky
warmth in the sun, chill in the shade
annoyed skunks letting the world know they are waking up
writers re-emerging from their dark caves of creativity

I set out to finish editing my manuscript, edits based on comments from my critique groups and from agents who were kind enough to tell me what was wrong with the opening movement while rejecting the book.

I hit the goal on Sunday. One final read for the remaining typos and then it's off to agents for their reaction.

I'm glad spring is here. I even missed the stinky skunks. Most of all, I am so glad my saint of a husband lived with the slug all winter while I muttered incantations over words, sentences, phrases and chapters. Thank you, Terry, for being here and being my sounding board. You are truly a saint.

'Possoms and 'Coons and Bears, Oh My

With all due apologies for modifying this famous phrase, I ask, what do the three critters in the title in common with writers?

Give up?

We all hibernate in the winter. I love this time of the year. The lake is cold and quiet. Snow birds have driven south. Year-rounders are hunkering down and recovering from the holiday season. The family has left and my husband and I are alone with the calico-with-an-attitude.


Nikki has the right idea. She's tucked in, not to be disturbed until the tree comes down on Twelfth Night. She'll survive, as long as we encourage her sleeping all day. Not a problem.

And what do I have on my plate as a writer?

Finishing a revamp of Max 1 and getting it to be the best book I can write.

Sending the revamped book out to agents.

Seeing the book in print (or under an agent's guidance) before the end of the year.

That's enough for now.

Writing on a Rainy Sunday Morning

I love rainy days when I can write and edit and rewrite to my heart's content. Today was one such day.

I worked a bit more on tuning my first Mad Max novel, after a wee bit more feedback from one on my best friends. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have changed anything. Besides Mad Max 2 awaits in complete first draft.

Yesterday, four women writers took off on our boat for an afternoon of wine, writing, talking about plot and characters, and other mischief on Smith Mountain Lake. We had hoped for three more, but Sally Roseveare was doing her first book signing for Secrets of Sweetwater Cover, Becky Mushko was over at the Hanover Bookfest, and Claudia Condiff was coughing and hacking and didn't feel at all well.

We had a perfect day of relaxing on and in the water before heading home for a barbeque with our husbands. And then the rains came. And came. And came. Oh well, I was already wet. . . .

So with yesterday's inspiration and today's rain to help, I tackled my query letter. And thanks to Sue Coryell, a fellow Lake Writer and YA novelist, I sent her the latest version for improvement.

August is query letter month. No but firsts.

First published article

Giggle, my first freelance article appeared in the Laker Weekly on Jul. 24. A double-truck article, two photos, center spread. Giggle again. I'm now a paid writer! Giggle, giggle, giggle

The Wisdom of Confucius

Which piece of wisdom, you ask. "Be careful what you ask for. You may get it."

I have completed a whydunit called UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES. At least three times.

Two years ago, I thought I was done. I had written the best book I could and was ready for input. I gave copies to 10 friends, many of whom are published writers. And I gave 5 copies to one of my critique groups. I asked for honest feedback. And I got it.

Of course, I reacted as any calm, rational person would. I got pissed off!

Then, I sat back, thought about what I had requested, and read all of the comments without emotion. 15 people had 20 opinions. I sorted through the ones that worked for me and began a year-long rewrite. I also read about writing, contributed to two critique groups, and paid very careful attention to every piece of fiction I read.

Then I let the book sit for a couple of months while I wrote down the bones of a second book.

Finally I was ready to have my work reviewed again. Once more, more opinions, more suggestions, and more people trying to transform my style into theirs. I took all advice and considered every comment.

And then rewrote sections. At last, I was done. Until one person in a critique group asked to read the first 50 pages. To be polite, I agreed. Stupid me!

I got back 50 pages of totally marked up content. Many of the comments don't work. Some do. I never expected this particular group member to have much to offer. Turns out, she does.

I'm considering a few of the comments that will not result in a complete rewrite. I plan to finish the current set of tweaks this month, begin the query process next month and see what happens.

Another Confucian bit of wisdom sits on my desk: "Know where you are going. You are likely to get there." It's right between my Japanese sign for tranquility and a stuffed anteater.

Sigh! Off to do some more editing.

Writing Tips from Rex Bowman

On Saturday, May 2, Virginia Writers Club hosted a discussion on writing with Rex Bowman at the Westlake Library at Smith Mountain Lake. Rex is a recently dismissed reporter from the Richmond Times-Dispatch. (Forget the fact that Rex has been nominated twice (!) for the Pulitzer Prize. He still got the axe with T-D downsized its staff. Little do they know what they lost.)

Rex is the author of Blue Ridge Chronicles. He follows the lead of such great storytellers as Ernie Pyle, John Steinbeck with Travels with Charlie, and William Least Heat Moon with Blue Highways. Rex talked about writing. What he dubs his "great truths" reinforce what most of us who write try to achieve. In no particular order, here are some of the truths he discussed.

Landscapes don't become interesting until you put people in them. How many of us have read lengthy descriptions of landscapes, places, interiors, and have fallen asleep because nothing is happening??

Write about ordinary people. I'd add, write about ordinary people in original settings. I don't want stream of consciousness or gritty reality (Herman got up, peed, brushed his teeth, made toast and coffee -- well, you get the idea. Do write about ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

Spend time listening to people. Everyone has a story. Listen carefully. Stories are material. Use what you hear shamelessly, but fictionalize the names, situations, etc. After all, you don't want your friends to say, "Hey, you're writing about me!" They will anyway, if the portrait is flattering. If it isn't, you don't want to be sued.

Use your own voice. It's what makes you unique. At the same time, let reflections of other voices come through. You can channel these other voices without losing the purity of your own.

Be a storyteller, not a writer. Enough said. If the story isn't compelling, no one will read it.

Use sensory details. This is a little more difficult. It's nearly impossible to describe a smell, but it's possible to use that smell to evoke emotion. Think the madeleine and Proust, but don't go on for pages about the smell of a cookie and the memories it brings to Proust's character.

The quality of language has to match the subject matter. This is esoteric. Imagine a thriller written by Jane Austen. It wouldn't work. Imagine a steamy romance written by Tom Clancy. It too wouldn't work.

Overall, the meeting was excellent and well attended. I captured pictures for the local papers. Not all will make it into the paper, however. Keith, I did not send this along!

Inspiration

I never know where inspiration -- or ideas for a story/poem/essay -- comes from. Usually when I least expect it, an idea grabs hold of gray cells and won't let go until I face it.

So it was the other night when I was driving home from Jim Minick's poetry reading (see earlier post). I was deeply moved by his oral stories and poems about his aunt who has passed away. How lucky he was to know her. This got me to thinking about my dear relatives who have also passed.

Missing my aunt, who was my second mother, led to me to finish an essay called The Gift. I polished it and submitted it to a writing contest. That wasn't enough to calm the twitchy gray cells, however.

Now, I don't believe in automatic writing, but I do believe in channeling people's feelings and thoughts. I couldn't get my dear mother out of my mind. I began writing what I thought would be another essay. Right now, it looks more like free verse. Funny, neither my mother nor I like poetry all that much. I don't know why the feelings came out in poetic form. Maybe because I wanted to keep the words sparse. Tell the story with the least amount of words possible. Maybe I was too tired and lazy to form complete sentences for an essay. Maybe it came out the only way I could handle it.

At any rate, I can thank Jim Minick for stirring up emotions that have, thus far, manifested themselves in a poem.

Wonder where my next inspiration will come from.

Classifying Fiction

I have been agonizing over how to classify Unintended Consequences, my first Mad Max novel. (No, it's not a fiction novel! I know not to make that bone-head mistake.) Is this women's fiction? contemporary fiction? A mystery that doesn't follow the conventions for a mystery? A whydunit? Oh, the choices to make.

Then last night, I was reading Publishers Weekly and came across this description of a new series launcher: "chicken-fried chick lit paranormal."

Classifying fiction is ridiculous. See above.

On the Ball

I'm on the ball today. Literally.

I spent the entire, really the entire, day at my desk working on my own materials. Most of my friends don't believe me when I tell them I work on a balance ball. I've set up my office with my desk, two computers, two printers and a work space at right angles on the left. There is a bookcase out of view on the right loaded with reference material. So, today I was productive.

First, I worked on a personal essay that I plan to submit to a couple of contests. It needs a bit more tweaking, but overall I'm satisfied I'm on the right track.

Next, I finally couldn't put off writing the one-page synopsis for my first Mad Max novel. When someone tells you it's harder to write the synopsis than the entire novel, do not RPTFLOL! Believe them. Yes, there is a format to follow, but when every word counts, it's difficult to find le mot juste.

I wrapped up a short story for another contest, after sending it to my cousin for her approval. After all, her older brother was my model, although I took many liberties with the plot.

Lastly, I reviewed my query letter and all but trashed it. I now have four versions left on my laptop. I can't count how many I've already trashed. Then, I read entries for the query letter contest Nathan Barnsford is running. Some were better than mine, some were worse. Oops, I should have entered the contest, although my fellow writers were brutal in their rejections. Sigh. Where has the civility gone? One would-be-agent-for-a-day, the title of the contest had a terrific quote: "Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat." -- F. Scott Fitzgerald

I have been revising the first chapter of Mad Max 2 and just pulled it up to work on it, when I was interrupted. Nikki, my CWA, who is NOT allowed to climb on the ball -- remember, she is armed and dangerous -- decided I needed to quit working and feed her.

Guess that's my cue to stop for the night, think about the changes I made to the four projects above, and begin again just after dawn tomorrow.

See ya!

Plots and Schemes

I love it when people ask writers where they get their ideas. Here's how I came up with my latest.

Over the past week, I developed the idea for the fourth Mad Max mystery. It all started with a story in the Roanoke Times about a woman who died alone and no one found her body for 18 months. And that's where my plot began.

What if Max lives near a recluse who dies and no one notices? I began fleshing out the plot in my head, wondering where it would lead. It led to thoughts of murder. Two murders. With Max, Alex, Emily and Manny trying to solve them.

All of this was against two wonderful golf courses in Pinehurst, where my husband Terry and I play two rounds on the weekend. Perfect weather. Warm, sunny, green air. Green air??? Yup, pines were in full pollen release. It isn't called Pinehurst for nothing. Great, irritating green clouds of pollen blowing across fairways, coating cars, making noses sneeze. And in my brain stem, I kept thinking about killing people.

Next, Terry and I drove down to Augusta to watch a practice round of the Masters. Don't we look like we are having fun?? We had checked the weather map before we left. It was supposed to be 60 degrees, so we rigged for 60. We did not rig for 40! It was so bloody cold that most of the top players stayed indoors and didn't practice. We'll see how they do.

We sat at Amen Corner, a place which has probably heard as many prayers as the Sistine Chapel. It's also the Kodak hole at Augusta National. I looked out at the perfect azaeleas, dogwood, greens, white sand traps. And plots and schemes continuing to build in my head about murder. We fell into a conversation with two couples behind us. They turned out to be from Kentucky and as luck would have it, they arrived with a camera and a dead battery. (No, that's not the death I had in mind.)

I agreed to take a couple of snaps of them and send the photos along. I wonder what they would have thought if they knew I was planning to murder a recluse by suffocation and a second man in a faked accident. You really can't believe what some people are thinking.

At any rate, from the single article to a complete blueprint for a novel -- all in one week. And that's where I got the idea for Echoes of Silence. At least, that's the working title.

Enough "But Firsts"

All y'all know what "but firsts" are, don't you? It's what you do when you know you have to do something but keep putting it off. Like, I know I have to clean the house, "but first" I have to re-read War and Peace .

I but firsted my way through reading two friends' manuscripts, commenting on another friend's play, writing a sketch/short story for a contest, and an essay for another contest. And now, I have to address what I really want to do. Talk about writing and what I'm working on.

This is the first of many, many posts on writing. How I go about it. Why I am compelled to write. How I get my ideas.

I have written five complete novels in recent years. (This does not count earlier output, all of which have been destroyed to protect the guilty. Me.) My first was erotica. Had to get it out of my system. The second one is actually a trilogy -- Venn diagrams of women from high school, through college, career, marriage, and motherhood. And now, the first Mad Max book, Unintended Consequences, is complete and the second is in very rough draft.

Generally, I'm happiest when I have three books going simultaneously. That's both for reading and writing. I continue to tweak Mad Max 1, although I think it is about as complete and polished as I can make it. I am now querying agents for MM 1. Thick skin required.

Next, following the example of Natalie Goldberg in Writing Down the Bones, I have finished the bones of MM 2. It's about 70,000 words already, needs whole chunks rewritten, other chunks moved around, secondary characters fleshed out. When I begin a story, I have the main characters in mind, a general story line, the main themes, and little else. Because I write character-driven stories, I let the characters take me where they will.

After finishing the draft, I let it sit for four to six weeks. Kinda took a break. Now, I've just reread it. The first thing I look for is inconsistencies in plot. I circle them, move on, fill the margins with copious notes, and mark things for deletion or moving. I love Post-It Notes, because I decorate page after page with them. And at this cut, I look for those wonderful freedoms of creation that Anne Lamott writes about in Bird by Bird. She allows herself to call characters names like Mr. Poopy Pants (if you'll pardon what might be a paraphrase). I need to rename Honkin' Fat Dodge Boy to Sheriff Lester Hardy. Thank God for search and replace.

I started the first revision this weekend. It was rainy and a perfect time to dig into 70,000 words. Now that the manuscript is covered in red ink, it's time to start moving chunks around.

This step can take weeks or months, depending on how many "but firsts" I find along the way.

And what about MM 3? Doing the research, because I want to learn about gene-splicing and viruses. (Viri??)

So, tomorrow I start moving chunks. Stay tuned for updates.

James River Writers Conference

This was my first James River Writers Conference October 10 to 11, 2008. I went with the idea that I would learn about the business of writing, meet some new writers, and if I had a meeting with an agent, well, that would be a plus.

First, the plus. I met with Barbara Clark of a new agency, Barbara Clark Literary Agency. She has recently made the transition from editor (at such large publishing houses as Doubleday, Viking Studio Books, and Farrar, Straus & Giroux.

She said she was looking for clients. Well, I am looking for an agent, so I did my best. My appointment was her third from the last on the second day, a timing I prefer when I have to make a sales pitch. "Always go last if you can," my business mentor Chan Preston says. You'll leave a lasting impression! I pitched my women's fiction, Unintended Consequences, about a woman who comes out of retirement to take care of two generations in a dysfunctional family. Ms. Clark asked me to send her a query letter and the first 80 pages of my novel. I have done so.

Next, what I learned about marketing. After all, this is all about selling me and my ideas in fictional form. I have nearly 30 years experience in sales, marketing and public relations, so much of what the agents and editors talked about was what I do naturally.

To help once an editor buys your manuscript, draw up a formal marketing plan. Get to know your local indie and big box book stores. The indies are great because they hand-sell books. The big box stores are important because you need to sweet talk them into giving you, a new writer, precious shelf space. It's a lot of smoozing and getting to know people who can help sell your books. But you all know that already. I asked if my backgound in marketing would be a detriment. One agent said he'd kill to have a client like me. Since I would rather live, I didn't pursue him!

Moving to tips from the sessions on how to write. Nothing really new here. One editor said you had to be prepared to "kill your darlings." The phrase, sentence, paragraph, etc. that you like the best is most likely the one that has to be chopped out. Don't make the mistake of substituting dialogue for character. Dialogue is a window into your character's pysche. And for heaven's sake, lose the adverbs like "he said, menacingly." Rewrite the dialogue to be menacing. In her session on writing mysteries, Diane Mott Davidson reminded her packed room of Somerset Maughan's famous statement that "nothing bad can happen to a writer. It's all material."

Research played a central theme in many sessions. From David Baldacci to David L. Robbins to Adriana Trigiani, everyone stressed research. Learn something about what you want to write about. Do it youself, if you can. If you want to write about hair styling, talk with stylists and work in a salon. You don't have to style hair, but you can learn from observing and listening.

The only session that was disappointing was on the literary novel. Three panelists tried to define it. They lost me with "it's like porn. I know it when I see it." I expected better.

Would I go again? Yes. Did I find the investment in time and the cost of the conference worth it? Again yes. I recommend the conference to any writer, whether just starting out, changing genres, or seeking to broaden horizons as a published author.

A Published Essay

It seemed as if I would never find an editor who would publish anything I wrote. Then along came Lake Life, a publication of the Smith Mountain Eagle. Lake Life is a semi-annual glossy dedicated to promoting life at the most beautiful lake in Virginia -- if not in the world. The essay is called "Settlin' In -- At Smith Mountain Lake."

Two years ago, November 2006, my husband, Terry Naylor, and I moved into our dream house at the lake. We had prepared for the move for years. First we found the right lot in 1999. We knew we were going to build a log home, so we interviewed several builders before finding one who would build the house we wanted, not the house he wanted. Finally we broke ground in 2000. By May 2001, the house was ready, but we weren’t. After all, we had jobs and lives in northern Virginia, so this became our weekend place.

The more time we spent here, however, the more we knew we wouldn’t be satisfied being weekenders. We wanted to be year-rounders. We debated when we would move, ultimately deciding that 2006 was it.

We made our lists, checked them twice and slowly weeded things we no longer needed from our formal Colonial. After we put it on the market, Terry quit his part time job at Home Depot and returned to full-time retirement from IBM. He spent most weekends supervising constructing the garage and finishing the basement. I made weekly trips down Route 29 in a car so full I couldn’t see out of the windows. Nothing rode for free, except our cat in her “condo.”

Then one day we were ready. The movers came, the final items were donated, and we said farewell to a great group of neighbors.

We unpacked and decorated for the holidays, even lucking out and selling our house “up north” on New Year’s Eve. Suddenly we faced with the ultimate challenge for everyone who moves: making new friends.

We used my cousin Aleta as a positive example. Ten years ago she left Southern California for Alaska where she knew exactly no one. Now ten years later she can’t go anywhere in Anchorage without meeting friends. We wanted to be like her.

I read the calendar section of the Eagle religiously, looking for activities. I’m not a crafter, so all activities like quilting and pottery were out. Because I love to read, book clubs looked interesting, but not interesting enough. Besides, I am driven to write even more than to read.

One day I saw a calendar entry for Lake Writers. I’ve been writing, and not publishing, fiction for years. I’d already had a couple of bad episodes with other writers’ groups, but I picked up the phone and called Jim Morrison who encouraged me to come to a meeting. I knew I’d found a home. I liked the people, the way they interacted and their supportive criticism of people’s efforts. I was inspired to keep fingers on keyboard and crank out pages.

I soon learned that around the lake when you join one group, you’ll soon be introduced to others with overlapping members. Again, Jim Morrison suggested I call SMAC, because it was looking for a press relations director. With a professional background in marketing, among other things in my overly crowded resume, it seemed like a logical fit, except I didn’t know what SMAC was. Don Fink, another Lake Writer, explained what SMAC does and handed me a membership form.

After meeting with the president, I liked what I heard and agreed to do PR. I met a great group of dedicated and passionate people who were deeply involved in all types of arts and at least one who ties to Lake Writers. I started running into them in shops and other places. Hmm, I began to feel more like I belong here.

Terry is a motorcyclist and enjoys long distance touring. He stopped one warm winter day in early 2007 for coffee at a local gas station. When he came out, a man was parked beside him, waiting. They introduced themselves, actually discovered they knew people in common back in New York, and exchanged numbers. Daily rides grew into road trips to motorcycle races. They’ve gone to the Mid-Ohio races two years in a row and are already planning for next year’s trip.

While I was busy raising my hand to volunteer, Terry joined the board of our local owner’s association, which led to ALAC meetings, which led to him becoming very concerned about the relicensing debate. Soon he will join me on the SMAC board.

Several months later, Jim Morrison mentioned a media relations opportunity for SMLA. By now, I’d been here long enough to know what that acronym meant and what the group did. I had another conversation with another president, attended a board meeting and was hooked. This time I would be writing articles about water quality, weeds, fertilizer and sewage removal for the Eagle. I had no idea how challenging it would be to make poop, um, fertilizer, and weeds, not weed, interesting.

Now, nearing the end of two years in residence full-time, Terry and I kept our promises to meet people and get involved. I made my husband a promise: if opportunity in the form of a call or e-mail from Jim Morrison arrives, I won’t answer.

I have to credit Jim with being a catalyst for where I am today at the lake. It’s all your fault, Jim. Thanks.

Introducing Me

Born in Washington, DC, I was raised in Southern California where I ran wild with coyotes in the hills above Malibu. Although I protested the war in Vietnam, burned my bra for feminism, and am a social liberal but a fiscal conservative, I ultimately realized I had to earn a living. After spending way too many years in college, in the process earning an undergraduate degree and three graduate degrees, I entered the military-industrial complex after an academic career as a student and teacher. I count myself a survivor of the corporate brainwashing, because I still have the ability to think. Not outside the box or any other cliche, but creatively and objectively. Married for nearly twenty-five years to the same man, I am a writer, a thinker, the mother of three grown stepchildren, companion and friend. I find time to work with young women, mentoring them to succeed in the workplace without losing their identity, write fiction, play golf, sail, hike and read. I write on ecological issues for two local newspapers and frequently publish essays in regional magazines. I love riding behind my husband on his motorcycle. You'll have to decide for yourself if and where I have a tattoo.