Grace-Filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #36): Writing about Writing about Writing

I love to write.  Writing is my favorite.

And one of my favorite subjects to write about, not so oddly enough, is writing.

So yes, as the title of this post has already warned you, today I'm going to be writing about writing about writing.

Confused yet?

I haven't been the best of bloggers in recent months (make that years), but my output used to be rather prolific here at SOP.  My archives are jam-packed with old posts about any number of subjects, and if you're ever bored and hungry for fresh[-ish] reading material, you could always scroll through them and hopefully you'd stumble upon something that would pique your interest.  The 1,300-plus posts are not all about books and writing, not by a long shot; but those grouped under the label "Grace-filled Tuesdays Book Club" most definitely are.

I started this little online book club quite a while ago, at the urging of my publisher (Cheryl Dickow at Bezalel Books), and it has indeed been a pleasure to host these book "discussions" with you over the years.  It's a great forum for talking about how my two novels went from tiny sparks of inspiration to fully fleshed-out stories filled with characters whom I got to know better and better as time went by.

I enjoy it so much when novels I read have Q and A's with the authors at the end, where a reader can learn exactly what motivated them to write their stories in the first place.  I usually flip back there before I even dive into Chapter One, because it adds another layer of enjoyment for me to learn how the writer was inspired to start the book and the amount of time it took to research and write it.  The writing process itself is endlessly fascinating to me.  So you can imagine why I get such a kick out of sharing my own stories here at the blog--about how I was inspired to write Finding Grace and Erin's Ring and how the books eventually took shape.

Most writers will admit that even the fictional stories they create have pieces of real people, places, and events embedded in them; that was certainly true for me--especially with Finding Grace.  But trust me, this novel is NOT autobiographical (or even semi-autobiographical).  So much of what was real was tweaked and reworked, and characters who were inspired by people I knew began to take on their own unique identities--which surprised and delighted me; truly, these characters became friends whom I missed dearly when I'd finished writing the last chapters.

I think this is a common phenomenon for fiction authors.  In his biography Becoming Jane, Jon Spence discusses how the peerless Jane Austen wove together real life and fiction in her work (I've brought this up before here at the blog, in this past book club post, and this one, and this one, too --sheesh, you guys, I'm like a broken record!):

"Jane wrote her early pieces for the amusement of her family and friends, and she put in shared jokes, teasing jibes, and allusions to real events in their lives."
 
"Austen is never autobiographical in the crude sense of recording what happened to her or to people she knew.  But a real situation was sometimes her starting point and developed in her imagination as something quite separate from the 'real'."

Yes, Jane, that's just what I ended up doing!  And I didn't even know that you did this, too, until I'd already written Finding Grace!  (I believe we would be BFF's!)

But Austen is by no means the only fiction author who did/does this sort of thing.  Here are a few quotes by some talented modern-day writers whom I also admire, about how real life sneaks its way into their fictional tales.

In the acknowledgements at the end of One Day, a book I absolutely loved, author David Nicholls writes, "It is the nature of this novel that certain smart remarks and observations may have been pilfered from friends and acquaintances over the years, and I hope that a collective thank you--or apology--will be enough."

Ha ha, so true: I am convinced that a novelist cannot help but employ tidbits of actual conversations that he's been involved in or overheard, tweaking them to fit the storyline he's creating.

In the Q and A section at the back of Anne Rivers Siddons' Off Season (a book that had some very strange elements, to be sure, but which I nonetheless enjoyed on the whole very much) the interviewer asks, "Do you base your characters on real people or are they purely products of your imagination?"  And Siddons replies, "There is always a flicker or a seeming of someone real in most of my characters, but by the time I have developed a character enough to carry them through a book, they become their own selves and there's no doubt about that.  I never knowingly copy anybody--I'm not that good at it."

Yes, Anne!  You, Jane, and I--if only we could go out for coffee together and talk shop!  How fun would that be?

I know that when I was writing about Peggy Roach Kelly's feelings for her five sons in Finding Grace, I couldn't help but channel my feelings for my own five sons, whom I adore completely.  Whenever my husband and I would walk with our tall, handsome boys across the church parking lot for Sunday Mass, I would watch them with eyes full of love and think, "Those are all mine!  Those wonderful young men belong to me!"  They had a way of walking, a "Pearl boy walk," that made them look alike from behind. So there you have it,  the inspiration for this scene in Chapter 6 (pages 61-62 in the paperback version), where Grace and her parents are following the Kelly boys across the church parking lot:

"It was interesting how much the five brothers resembled one another, particularly from behind, where one couldn't see the variations in their facial features.  They were all Roaches, similar in height and build, and all had Peggy's chestnut-colored hair (only Grace had inherited the stature and coloring of the Kelly side).  They shared a gait that was uniquely their own, genetically programmed, so it seemed--the "Kelly boy walk": they sort of dragged their feet, yet bounced, with hands jammed in their pockets and shoulders slightly hunched, their heads leaning forward a bit.  The five of them laughed together easily as they made their way over to the church, looking and acting for all the world like a set of giant quintuplets.  They seemed nearly identical in appearance from this view, and as they say about babies of multiple births, they had almost a language of their own.  They often finished each other's sentences, and laughed at the same moments.  Their hand gestures and the inflections of their speech were uncannily alike.

They shared a tight bond that was indeed extraordinary, one that their parents hoped would never be broken.

Peggy drank them in with her eyes; Grace saw the expression on her mother's face and wished for a moment that she had ever been the one to produce such a look of naked adoration.  Then she watched her brothers loping along ahead of them, and if she'd had a mirror she would have realized that her own face bore an expression very nearly the same as her mother's.

'Aren't they something special?' Grace thought, filled with tenderness. Right then she knew more than ever that she hoped she would one day be the mother of many boys."

How obvious is it that that passage was written by a hopelessly smitten Boy Mom?!  I slid that little piece of real life in there as an homage to my beloved offspring; yet as much as the Kelly boys were originally modeled after my string of Pearls, they really did evolve and become their own selves the further along I got in the writing process.

Okay then, that's about it from here.  But before I sign off, I'll leave you with a few images of the six fabulous men in my life, who inspired me to write a book that included five completely lovable brothers and a perfect love interest for my shy little heroine, Grace Kelly.

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #35): Austen, Writing Fiction, Etc.

I was looking through some old saved documents on my computer yesterday, and I came across something I'd forgotten I'd even written.  I believe it was the beginning of a presentation I was going to give to the Daughters of the American Revolution at a meeting in Dover, NH, in October of 2015, when I was going to be their guest speaker and receive that year's "Women in Arts Recognition Award (for Contributions in the Field of Literature)" from the local chapter of the DAR.  I was nervous about speaking in front of a crowd, and I thought maybe I should have a speech prepared and try to memorize it (but also have a printed version there in front of me to fall back on).

I never finished writing it; I remember now that I told my husband I had decided not to go in with anything prepared, because the few times I'd spoken to young readers at schools, they seemed to like the Q and A format best.  And when answering particular questions, having a sort of "conversation," I felt the most at ease.

So imagine my panicky feelings when the woman who introduced me began by saying, "Here to speak to us today..."  Oh, no.  I fought through my nerves, wishing after all that I'd brought a typed-up speech to present; but somehow I got through it.  Most of the listeners were older women, but there were a few young granddaughters of the Daughters there, who were delighted to have their books signed afterward and were just delightful in general.

Anyway, yesterday when I stumbled upon that partially written speech, I thought, "Hey, I see a blog post brewing!"  So I decided to tweak it a bit, and since this is Tuesday--and that's Book Club day--I thought I'd share it here at the blog.

Jane Austen is a 19th-Century novelist whom I greatly admire.

She once observed that "the best authors have often been the worst talkers."  And I'm not trying to imply that I count myself among the "best authors"--not by a long shot!--but I do believe that I express myself much better on paper than I do in person.  So forgive me if I stumble a bit up here.  I'm a little nervous talking to you all--I'd do better writing you letters!  [See how I was preparing them for having to listen to a sub-par speaker?  Classic me!]

Okay, let's get down to it, shall we?  How does one go about writing fiction?

In his biography Becoming Jane Austen, Jon Spence wrote this of the famous author: "Jane wrote her early pieces for the amusement of her family and friends, and she put in shared jokes, teasing jibes, and allusions to real events in their lives."

In my case, this did not happen as much with Erin's Ring as it did with my first novel, Finding Grace; but in Erin's Ring,  for instance, I just HAD to have a reference to dinosaurs, because all five of my sons were completely obsessed with them growing up.  But I wasn't sure I could use that term in 1870, when I wanted Michael Kennedy to use it while he's talking to Erin Finnegan at the Halloween dance, on pages 170-171.  So I looked it up and was thrilled to find out that in 1842, biologist Richard Owen had given that name to the pre-historic creatures whose bones he'd been studying in England.  So I could use it, and it would be historically accurate.  (And that reference  to dinosaurs--that was totally for my boys.  Like a secret shout-out.)

Also, because of those five sons whom I adore, I knew from the get-go that in Finding Grace, title character Grace Kelly had to have five older brothers (who are loosely modeled after my boys, of course).  In Erin's Ring, Molly McCormick has four brothers and a sister, but her mother is pregnant with a 7th child and in my head, I've decided it will be a boy.  Because I think any work of fiction I ever write will have to include a household with five brothers in it.  (Brothers who are handsome, intelligent, kind, faith-filled--and who treat their mother like a queen!) [Pause here for raucous laughter of the crowd!  Ha!]

In Becoming Jane Austen, Spence also wrote: "Austen is never autobiographical in the crude sense of recording what happened to her or to people she knew.  But a real situation was sometimes her starting point and developed in her imagination as something quite separate from the 'real.'"

That is definitely the way I went about writing my first novel, Finding Grace.  So much of the story is reminiscent of my own experiences growing up: the Catholic school I attended; the house where I lived in Plattsburgh, NY and the houses by the lake where my best friend and my boyfriend (now husband) lived; the kids who were my girlhood classmates and friends; but even people and places that were initially inspired by my real life took on a whole new life of their own through the writing process.  I recently read a book by a modern novelist whom I also admire, Elizabeth Berg [who writes popular, mainstream works of fiction that actually feature positive Catholic characters and families--huzzah to that!!], and she alluded to this very thing.  In an answer to an interview question at the end of The Art of Mending, she says, "The truth is, writing fiction is for me a magical and largely uncontrollable act: the characters create themselves, as does the story."  Before I wrote a novel, I would have said that that statement was just a load of artsy nonsense, because books don't write themselves; after, however, I knew for a fact that it was absolutely true--at least it was for me.  I thought I knew where both of my novels were going at the outset, but they changed course on me (and the characters did and said things I hadn't planned on them doing and saying) as the story progressed.

Austen called Pride and Prejudice "my own darling child," and it's true--when you're an author, your books are your "babies."  You become very attached to the characters you create, and then you sort of miss those people when you finish writing the book.  And you are like a worried mom when one of your precious babies goes out into the world alone, without you, and is now open to criticism and judgment.  There are some people who will not like your baby at all, and that makes an author feel unspeakably vulnerable.  I'll tell you what, I had stomach cramps for about two weeks at the end of the summer of 2012, when Finding Grace went to print.  During most of the close to five years I had worked on it, it was my happy little secret, shared only with my nearest and dearest; I kind of wanted to keep it close to me forever--the way a mom feels when she gives birth to a new baby and can hardly fathom that this child will one day grow up and leave her.  You would think that seeing a book make it to publication would be thrilling for an author, but it's actually pretty terrifying.

Anyway, I read once that a niece of Austen's who wanted to become an writer, too, asked her what advice she could give.  And the esteemed author told her, "Read, read, read!"  So--if any of you think that one day, you might like to be a writer, the best thing you can do now is to read as many works as you can, by people who are good at expressing themselves with the written word.  Reading good writing will help you to become a better writer yourself.

Reading this essay over again, I'm wondering if this was actually something I was working on in preparation for one of the school visits I did (the invitations came from two sweet relatives of mine who taught at the middle school level--a niece and a sister-in-law).  That ending part seems more like something I would say to young people who might be aspiring writers than to a group of DAR ladies.  Especially since I think the Daughters' focus was Erin's Ring, which was filled with historical information about the town of Dover.  If I'd been writing something to say to them, I think I would have focused specifically on the process of incorporating that fascinating local history into the novel.  Either way, it makes a pretty good book club blog post, don't you agree?

Well, I guess I should wrap up the meeting now.  I'm not even sure I should continue to host this online club, because it's not as if my humble little books have been read by too many people.  I have a rather large collection of copies of both novels in my office right now, because I stocked up on them for a holiday craft fair at our church last December and sold only a few copies.

There are lots more in boxes...

I would be happy to sell signed copies through the blog, for the same price as Amazon sells them--but without the shipping costs.  Email me if you're interested.  But please, dear readers, do not feel like this post has been one big commercial, trying to get you to buy something!  I just thought I'd offer that.

Okay, before I go, here's today's discussion question: do you prefer Jane Austen-style 19th-century fiction, or are you more interested in the offerings of modern-day novelists?

Thanks for stopping by.  Now get your nose back in a good book where it belongs!  (Sorry.  Bookworm humor.)

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #34): a Re-run, Mostly, with Some Sheenazing Thoughts Added

Popular blogger and IG personality Bonnie Engstrom is hosting her Sheenazing Awards over at her website, A Knotted Life.  If you'd like to cast your votes for your favorites in the world of Catholic social media (blogging, Instagam, Facebook, YouTube, Twitter), head on over.  (Personally, there are so many of my favorites on the lists that I had trouble voting for just one in each category!)  Named for Archbishop Fulton Sheen, who used any media sources available to him during his era to spread the Word of Christ, Bonnie's Sheenazing awards have been a delight to the Catholic blogging world over the years.

Okay so head on over and vote...and when you get back, I have some thoughts to share about this crazy new (well, not really so new, I guess!) Internet world, where people who feel like they have something to say and share through the written word --even “little” bloggers and ’grammers, such as I, who do not have legions of followers--can find a voice.

These days, I don’t seem to have as much time to write here at String of Pearls as I did back in my early days as a newbie blogger—or at least I don’t feel like I do, because...well, because GRANDBABIES.  But honestly, even as busy as my precious darlings keep me, I have to admit that I could make time, if I tried harder.  When I published my first blog post in 2011, I was absolutely on fire for blogging.  Every morning, my first thought (after the coffee was brewing, of course) was, "I can hardly wait to crack open my laptop and write a post!"  I would like to have that flame burning in me again, I really would.

I am so in awe of so many bloggers (Bonnie, to name one, along with many of the gals on her list of Sheenazing Award finalists).  These talented writers have found large audiences and are touching the hearts, minds, and souls of countless grateful followers.  What I need to remember, though, is that if I compare myself to others who are more prolific and more popular, I will never enjoy the process the way I should.  I got into blogging thinking that no one would ever read my posts, and I didn't care a bit. I was blogging to fulfill my need to write, and also to make a kind of scrapbook of memories for my kids and grandkids.  I didn't even know, at first, that you could check to see how many people had seen your posts!  But as time went on, I started to lose confidence and couldn't help but wonder now and again: does the blogosphere really need me in it, when there aren't too many readers who know about or stop by my little blog?  This is a question that I've asked myself several times over the years, and I think this post of Bonnie's about little blogs perfectly explains what has kept me coming back here, even after the occasional lengthy hiatus.  As she says in this post, "If you love your little blog with its little following and your little creative space where you can come and go as needed then keep going.  It will be good."   Thanks for that, Bonnie.  It's good advice--Sheenazing advice, even.  Because I do love this little old blog of mine, and even though I don't come back here as often as I used to, it always makes me happy when I do.  So come back I shall!

Anyway, I really wish I'd blogged yesterday, because it was the 45th anniversary of the day my husband first asked me to be his steady girlfriend--way, way back when we were just a couple of fresh-faced 15-year-old kids.  We're not so fresh-faced anymore, and these days we're the grandparents of 13-going-on-14 small humans.  But we're still pretty crazy about each other.  We decided to celebrate the significance of August 6 by taking a gondola ride up Whiteface Mountain, where we used to ski all the time in high school and where our boys also learned to ski.

In honor of this special anniversary, I was going to write an original post about how our love story began back in 1973.  But then I realized that I talked about this very topic in a former Grace-filled Tuesdays Book Club post, and I thought I'd share it again (I hope you don't mind re-runs!).  I mean, it is Tuesday, after all...

So hey, welcome to the club!

And here's that old post from January of this year--which is not only about the early days of my romance with my husband, but also about blogging (how apropos!).  Enjoy!

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #32): I Think I Was Always a Blogger at Heart

There was no such thing as blogging back when I was in high school (back in the Stone Age, as it were).  There was no such thing as blogging because there was no such thing as a personal computer that you had in your house, or this magical entity called the Internet that has become such an integral part of 21st-century existence.

Back then, if you had a burning desire to write about your life the way bloggers do nowadays, you could either use a typewriter or just good old reliable pen-and-paper and keep your musings in a journal or a diary. (I did keep diaries for a while in my girlhood--until I had to destroy one in junior high, after my best friend found and read it and I realized that no one should be writing down their deepest thoughts unless they wanted the whole world to know them.)

The other thing you could do, aside from the "Dear Diary" routine, was to keep scrapbooks.  And starting at the end of 8th grade, that is what I did: I kept simple scrapbooks that were filled with oversized construction paper pages, wherein I taped all the little bits and pieces of memorabilia that seemed of utmost importance to my teenage self (we're talking things like paper napkins and still-full sugar packets from restaurant meals with my then-boyfriend/now-husband, and popsicle sticks with traces of his DNA still on them, I'll bet!).

My high school scrapbooks were stored away in boxes in my parents' attic when I left for college.  I didn't take them with me when I got married in 1980, and when my parents sold my childhood home several years later, I assumed those boxes had gotten thrown out.  It made me a little sad at first, to think that I'd lost all my precious memories of days gone by; but eventually, I forgot all about the scrapbooks.  I was busy raising my boys, keeping up their baby books, and making photo albums and scrapbooks for them, filled with their boyhood memorabilia.  Then in 2002, my decades-old boxes were unearthed in a storage unit on my youngest sister's property and my long-lost scrapbooks were returned to me.  The scotch tape I'd used had disintegrated and they were a mildewed mess, but with the tape marks to guide me I painstakingly put them back together.

Oh my, the memories that came flooding back to me!  And the things I'd kept!   Things like gum wrappers, movie ticket stubs, newspaper clippings, dried flowers.  But along with my taped-in memorabilia, I also wrote about all my activities and feelings during that time.  (I think I was always a blogger at heart, though I didn't know it yet!)

What is so funny to me is to see pages like this one, from July 1973, when my high school boyfriend and I were just beginning to realize that we like-liked each other, and we rode on some rides together at the County Fair:

Or this one, from the first time he and I ever went to a movie together (not alone, but at least we sat next to each other):

I love how I wrote, "I really like him but I doubt he'll like me for long."  Ever the confident one, I didn't believe it would last.  Then about a week later, he asked me to "go with" him (that was the early-70's term for going steady, at least in our neck of the woods).

Aug. 6, 1973, a date I'll never forget!  It was the beginning of a long life together, but at 15 we really couldn't know that yet.  (Although I tell you, by 16, I was as sure as I've ever been of anything that he was the only one for me.)  Well, my dear readers, here's how it turned out: seven-and-a-half years later, we would get married. And now we have celebrated our 37th wedding anniversary...so I would say that my fears that he wouldn't like me for long were all for naught.  :)

It goes on some more...If you'd like to read (or re-read) the full post, you'll find it here.  Either way, I'll be back again--sooner rather than later, I hope.  :)

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #33): Erin's Ring Gets a Couple of Shout-outs

It's Tuesday, isn't it?  (Although it's getting late, and if I don't get this posted soon, it will be Wednesday!)

Well, Tuesday's child is full of grace, and my novels tell stories of God's grace (and one of them is even about a character whose name is Grace)...so I think that means it's time to call a meeting of the book club.  (While it's still Tuesday!)

Welcome, book enthusiasts!

Okay, so in case you've never been here before, I use this club to discuss my two Catholic novels with you, dear readers.  I never imagined or expected that the titles of my books would become well-known, or that I would become a household name, or that I'd make a fortune as an author.  But I always did hope that my humble works of fiction would do some good in the world.  I wrote them praying that they would be for God's greater glory and for the good of souls, including my own.  Obviously, God did not want them to be widely read, or to earn lots of money or accolades.  But there are no accidents.  Everything happens for a reason; and I still think there's a reason that I wrote these books and that they actually found their way into print.

It's been a long time since I had a book published.  Finding Grace came out in 2012, followed by Erin's Ring in 2014.  I can't believe it's been four years already since the younger of my two "babies" was born.  Time does indeed fly, doesn't it?  Four years.  Wow!

And just when I think that I lost my shot at marketing and promoting those books the way I should have, in order to ensure that I gave them the best possible chance of finding their way into the hands of young (or old) readers who might enjoy and/or be edified by them, I am made aware that there are generous folks out there who have been helping me--and I didn't even know they were doing it!

Back in December, Catholic YA author Leslea Wahl (The Blind Side, An Unexpected Role) did me the great favor of reading Erin's Ring and posting a review on Amazon.  This is always such an invaluable help to any author, and I was humbled and extremely grateful that she took the time to do this for someone she has never even met.  Here is that much-appreciated Amazon review.

As if Leslea hadn't done enough for me already, I found out that she had gone a step further: she had included Erin's Ring, along with two other titles, in a recent (May 1) blog post about YA historical fiction. Huzzah!  Or faith and begorrah, I suppose!

And then, God bless her, I discovered that Leslea had done even more: in a personal email message that she sent me after I thanked her for her lovely blog shout-out, she mentioned that she had also talked about Erin's Ring on a Reading with Your Kids podcast (a special St. Patty's Day installment highlighting books with Irish themes).  Here is the text of what she said on the podcast.

My little book, a story about some endearing 19th-century Irish immigrants whose faith inspired them to build a Catholic Church in a small New England town that didn't have one, has got a powerful advocate in Leslea, and I truly owe her a debt of gratitude.  Lately, I have been so busy with my boys and their rapidly growing families (now my close neighbors, after our move south last year from NH to VA) that I don't seem to have as much time to read as I used to.  But I am more determined than ever to make time, and Leslea's YA novels are now on the top of my "To Read" list.  Please support Leslea's works, too!

Before I sign off, I just want to let you know that Erin's Ring is currently selling at a reduced price on Amazon (marked down from $8.99 to just $7.27 per copy).   This would be a great time to order one for yourself, if you haven't read it yet.  ;)

That's about it for today, so meeting adjourned.  Thanks for stopping by!

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #32): I Think I Was Always a Blogger at Heart

There was no such thing as blogging back when I was in high school (back in the Stone Age, as it were).  There was no such thing as blogging because there was no such thing as a personal computer that you had in your house, or this magical entity called the Internet that has become such an integral part of 21st-century existence.

Back then, if you had a burning desire to write about your life the way bloggers do nowadays, you could either use a typewriter or just good old reliable pen-and-paper and keep your musings in a journal or a diary. (I did keep diaries for a while in my girlhood--until I had to destroy one in junior high, after my best friend found and read it and I realized that no one should be writing down their deepest thoughts unless they wanted the whole world to know them.)

The other thing you could do, aside from the "Dear Diary" routine, was to keep scrapbooks.  And starting at the end of 8th grade, that is what I did: I kept simple scrapbooks that were filled with oversized construction paper pages, wherein I taped all the little bits and pieces of memorabilia that seemed of utmost importance to my teenage self (we're talking things like paper napkins and still-full sugar packets from restaurant meals with my then-boyfriend/now-husband, and popsicle sticks with traces of his DNA still on them, I'll bet!).

My high school scrapbooks were stored away in boxes in my parents' attic when I left for college.  I didn't take them with me when I got married in 1980, and when my parents sold my childhood home several years later, I assumed those boxes had gotten thrown out.  It made me a little sad at first, to think that I'd lost all my precious memories of days gone by; but eventually, I forgot all about the scrapbooks.  I was busy raising my boys, keeping up their baby books, and making photo albums and scrapbooks for them, filled with their boyhood memorabilia.  Then in 2002, my decades-old boxes were unearthed in a storage unit on my youngest sister's property and my long-lost scrapbooks were returned to me.  The scotch tape I'd used had disintegrated and they were a mildewed mess, but with the tape marks to guide me I painstakingly put them back together.

Oh my, the memories that came flooding back to me!  And the things I'd kept!   Things like gum wrappers, movie ticket stubs, newspaper clippings, dried flowers.  But along with my taped-in memorabilia, I also wrote about all my activities and feelings during that time.  (I think I was always a blogger at heart, though I didn't know it yet!)

What is so funny to me is to see pages like this one, from July 1973, when my high school boyfriend and I were just beginning to realize that we like-liked each other, and we rode on some rides together at the County Fair:

Or this one, from the first time he and I ever went to a movie together (not alone, but at least we sat next to each other):

I love how I wrote, "I really like him but I doubt he'll like me for long."  Ever the confident one, I didn't believe it would last.  Then about a week later, he asked me to "go with" him (that was the early-70's term for going steady, at least in our neck of the woods).

Aug. 6, 1973, a date I'll never forget!  It was the beginning of a long life together, but at 15 we really couldn't know that yet.  (Although I tell you, by 16, I was as sure as I've ever been of anything that he was the only one for me.)  Well, my dear readers, here's how it turned out: seven-and-a-half years later, we would get married. And now we have celebrated our 37th wedding anniversary...so I would say that my fears that he wouldn't like me for long were all for naught.  :)

There are so few photos of us from our dating years, because people just weren't as snap-happy back then as they are now.  There are probably fewer pictures of us together during those seven-and-a-half years of courtship than most modern kids take in a single day, in this New Age of iPhone cameras.  But here are a few snapshots from my scrapbooking days; and as you can see from these keepers, my hubby was rocking his big mop of 70's hair like a champ.

This black and white picture was taken on the night of his 16th birthday, when we got all dressed up and went on a double date to the lakeside restaurant where he worked as a bus-boy during the summers.  (The one just above it is from the Junior Prom, when I was growing out an unfortunate short haircut that didn't suit me very well and he was sporting Elton John-style platform shoes.  We were a pair!)

Here is a photo that was in our senior year book, of the guys in our class hanging out in the hallway at our Catholic school.  (My guy is the third one in from the right.  You know, the handsome one.)

When I decided to write Finding Grace, a coming-of-age story about a shy young girl who starts high school in 1972 just like I did, I was obviously drawing upon memories from my own life.  Tom Buckley was most definitely inspired by the only high school heartthrob I could envision, my husband.  That character did become his own unique person, separate from anyone I know in real life, in the course of writing the story; but he undoubtedly shares so many traits with the only man I have ever loved.  I really didn't know how to create a different sort of love interest for my heroine. (It would make me feel almost unfaithful!)

Finding Grace, however, is not my story.  Poor Grace Kelly spends years pining for the boy she loves, while he sees her only as a friend.  She doesn't get to be his girlfriend, the way I did with my Tom Buckley.  But there are certainly aspects of Grace's experiences that come from my own.  She lives in Plattsburgh, NY, where my husband and I grew up and met in high school, and Grace's high school is modeled closely after the one we attended.  She lives in a home that was a lot like mine, and Tom and Irene live in homes that are a lot like my husband's and my best friend's.  Tom goes away to Notre Dame for college, the way my guy did.  But that doesn't mean the story is meant to be autobiographical.  Trust me, it is fiction.  But I think I just don't have enough talent to create whole new worlds, so I had to use the one I knew the best as a backdrop for the novel.

Well, seeing as how this is Tuesday, and I've gone off on a tangent about Finding Grace...let's make this post a meeting of the Book Club.  If you're here, and you're still reading, welcome!

Grace Kelly and Tom Buckley's story ends when they are about to graduate from college (and I won't tell you how, because I don't want to give any spoilers for those who might be inclined to read the book!).  I used to kick around the idea of doing a sequel, but I believe Finding Grace will always remain a stand-alone book.  It's a long novel--the kind you can curl up with and really sink your teeth into--and I would want the sequel to be lengthy, too.  And I just don't think I have the time or energy for that--at least not during this busy season of my life, with so much going on in the lives of my sons and their families.  Being a Grammy trumps being a writer, and it always will.  I might get around to writing a sequel to Erin's Ring one day, though; I've got an idea for one, and it wouldn't have to be more than about 200 pages.  But again: Grammy time comes first.  So we shall see.  In the meantime, there's always blogging.

It's probably a good thing that there was no such thing as blogging when I was a young girl like my Grace; I don't think I would have ever gotten my homework done!  It would have been too much for me, too soon.  But I sure am glad that I discovered it back in 2011, when my boys were grown and I felt like I had the time to really have fun with it.  Blogging has brought me so much joy over the years, and has put me in contact with so many wonderful people I would never have otherwise met.

I think I've always had the heart of a blogger.  And really, what is a blogger if not a writer?

Before we end this meeting of the club, I have a question for you.  I don't think Finding Grace is too long, because I've always liked epically long novels; but some reader feedback over the years makes me realize that not everyone is like me in that regard.  What about you?  Do you like a quick read, or do you prefer a long, involved story that doesn't end too soon?

Meeting adjourned.  Now go read a good book!  (Or if you don't have time for that right now, a good blog post!)

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #31): Fighting Discouragement

Welcome to the club!  If you love books as much as I do...then we totally get each other.

For the past couple of months, my oldest son's wife and their four daughters (2, 4, and twins aged 6) have been living with us at our new house in VA, while our son was completing some flight training in FL in preparation for his new career with a regional airline.  It has been a wonderful opportunity for us to be involved on a day-to-day basis with the lives of these precious girls.  They will be moving into their own place very soon and we're going to miss having them around; but luckily their new house is less than 20 minutes away from ours, so we'll still be able to see them often.

This is the older of the twins (by a whole two minutes), doing what she loves to do best.  And I totally get her.

This eager reader cannot put a book down, once she gets into it.  She reads until the last possible minute before the lights go out at bedtime.  She brings whatever book she is currently devouring to the table (with her nose in it, just like the saying goes), and is barely conscious of her mom's gentle admonishments to close it and eat now, read later.  This photo was taken recently during their homeschool's weekly "Tea Time Tuesday" celebration, which features poetry readings and sweet treats, when she had a plate of animal crackers--and chocolate icing to dip them in!--on her plate.  (Now that, my friends, is dedication to reading!  Even I might have put my book down, no matter how good it was, for chocolate icing!)

I might add that these girls' mother is a former librarian/archivist; so they come by their love for books naturally.  All four of them think their regular trips to the library are almost unbearably exciting.  Fresh new piles of books for each girl!  It never gets old--it's like Christmas morning every single time!

I like to imagine giving Erin's Ring to this granddaughter (and all the rest of my growing brood of grandchildren, too) a few years down the road.  She will be ready for it before I know it.

And that, I think, is what will keep me from being discouraged by the lack of worldly success that has thus far eluded my two novels.  It helps me to remember that the whole reason I set out to write Finding Grace (which was the one and only novel I thought I would ever write) ten years ago was so that I could pass it down to my children's children.  I imagined writing a book that would hopefully inspire them to fight all the bad influences in our increasingly fallen world.  So despite the fact that neither book has made much money for either me or their publisher, maybe they can do their small part in helping young readers--the ones who are near and dear to my heart, and maybe even a few strangers I will never meet--to find the Catholic Faith, to embrace the Faith of their Baptism more fully, or to make a better decision when faced with difficult choices.

If you are interested in receiving a signed copy of Finding Grace at a discounted price, visit Catholic Reads and find out how to subscribe to their newsletter.  The sale is going on for a limited time through this website, which is dedicated to helping relatively unknown works of Catholic fiction by relatively unknown authors get into the hands of more readers.  Knowing there are generous folks like this out there, working hard to promote books like mine...how can I be anything but encouraged?

That's it for today.  Now go find yourself a good book to get lost in!

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #30): a New Book Review from Catholic Reads

Welcome to the club!  I'm so glad you're here, fellow bookworms!

So I've got some news today.  I was absolutely thrilled to read a new review of Finding Grace, which was published just yesterday over at a wonderful website I discovered recently called Catholic Reads.  This novel, my debut as an author and my beloved "baby," is not a newborn anymore; it has celebrated its fifth birthday already.  (Where does the time go?!)  But even though it's been out there, available for reading, for half a decade, it can still use all the help it can get as far as promotion and marketing.  So I will be forever indebted to the good people over at Catholic Reads for including Finding Grace (a recipient of the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval) on their site.

Here's a snippet from that brand new review:

Finding Grace by Laura Pearl

A.R.K. WatsonOctober 23, 2017Leave a comment

Reviewed by S. Leigh Hall

The theme of Finding Grace, a young adult novel by Laura H. Pearl, is to understand the life of a teenage Catholic girl surviving high school amid the rapidly changing culture and tumultuous conflicts of the 70’s. There is so much to talk about because there is so much to Grace’s story as she strives to live her faith during a time when our society questioned deep moral issues.

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The first part of the novel covers 1972, Grace’s freshman year. From the beginning, we learn that Grace Kelly who comes from a traditional Irish family dislikes her name. She finds it humiliating that she is so unlike her namesake, the beautiful actress/princess from the movies. As she discusses the problem with her father, the first issue of the decade is introduced as he demonstrates an aversion to “women’s lib.” His hopes for his daughter’s future include a good marriage or life as a nun.

This topic of discussion isn’t the first conversation of its type, but her father indicates that he believes his daughter is a saint or will be someday, and Grace makes an important decision affecting the rest of her life. Her mission becomes learning all she can about the saints and striving to achieve that goal.


There's the teaser; now if you want to read the entire review, here's the link.  (Spoiler alert: there's a passage in there that particularly tickled me, about how the writing style reminds the reviewer a bit of St. Therese's autobiography, The Story of a Soul.  AND...I think I can die happy now.)

If you're looking for worthwhile works of modern Catholic fiction, you should check out Catholic Reads.  Here's an excerpt from the founders' mission statement, which appears on their website's "About" page:

Our Mission

We are four readers who got fed up with how hard is to find good Catholic fiction that features authentic  Church teaching, themes, and characters. When we did manage to find a good story it was usually something written fifty years ago or in a genre that wasn’t always our favorite.
But we love books and we love reading. So we kept searching.

And we found dozens of hidden worlds, indie authors, small presses, and magazines. Despite the lack of advertising, imagination and art are alive and well in our parishes. We started Catholic Reads with the aim of putting authentic Catholic fiction into people’s hands. We want our nation and our world to have the chance to see what the Church’s imagination has to offer.


Wow, I just love this!  And I hope that exposure on this wonderful site will lead more readers to Finding Grace, and that Finding Grace will in turn lead even just one soul closer to Christ.

Okay then, until next time, happy reading!

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #29): Where Real Life and Fiction Intersect, Redux

If you've never been here before, welcome to the club.  I'm so glad you stopped by!

Several years ago, I did a four-part series of posts called "Where Real Life and Fiction Intersect" here at the blog, to detail which parts of my first novel were inspired by true events and people from my life and which were purely fiction; and then when I formed this online book club, I re-posted the series in 2016.  (You can read the last installment of that series here, if you wish, and it provides links to the previous three.)

I'm not a very prolific blogger these days (said the busy Grammy who moved from NH to VA last spring to be closer to her grown sons and grandchildren, and who now has so much to blog about, but so little free time to do it!  A good problem to have, by the way!).  But yesterday I happened to pick up an old photo album with a 1984 picture of my husband and me on the cover, all dressed up to attend a Navy dinner, and I knew I had to write a Grace-filled Tuesdays post about something that happened that night and made its way into one of the scenes in Finding Grace.

I'm kind of glad I came across this almost-forgotten photo again, because I do think it's time to revisit the idea that when an author writes a work of fiction, she can't help but allude to people, places, and events from her own life.  It's just about impossible to avoid it.  They say you should write what you know, after all.  However, nothing in either of my books is autobiographical, per se.  (Except of course the way Grace Kelly feels about Tom Buckley in Finding Grace, because I was channeling my high school self there, and the inspiration for Tom was my then boyfriend/now husband of 37 years.  But other than that, anyone who reads my books must understand that the rest is fiction. And even Tom became a whole new person to me in the course of the four-plus years I spent writing the book.)

Let me tell you about those two crazy kids in that photo above.  They were young (so young! Only going-on-26!) so in love, and the relatively new parents of their first baby boy.  The fresh-faced girl in that photo never thought she was thin enough (but the woman she is now would kill to have that body again!).  She was still working on losing her post-partum weight when this photo was taken, and in fact was probably already pregnant again here with her second son, but didn't know it yet. Aside from the unfortunate uber-thick bangs, she's not at all bad-looking, but she is about as self-deprecating as they come.  For this fancy Navy "dining out" event, she is wearing a Victorian era-inspired bridesmaid outfit that she'd worn in her sister's wedding a while back (and they say you can never wear a bridesmaid outfit again!).  The lace-trimmed cotton calico skirt was made from a Laura Ashley pattern and the blouse, from the then-popular Gunne Sax brand, was dyed to match.  She is also wearing ivory-colored tights and her wedding shoes.  Her husband thinks she looks great; but then again, love is totally blind in his case and he always does.  He looks like a movie star here, because even a not-so-handsome man looks amazing in Navy dress whites.  And he's already handsome, no matter what he's wearing.  Very handsome.

Okay, enough with the third person narrative.  The girl is me.  Switching to first person now.  The bridesmaid outfit had looked perfectly at home when I wore it for my sister's nuptials--after all, her wedding dress was an authentic Victorian white lace gown, circa early-1900's, that had been found in our grandmother's attic.  Why, then, would my sweet and modest skirt and blouse ensemble not be perfectly at home at this Navy shindig?

So we got to the event, and I looked around at all the beautiful young women with their salon-styled tresses, attired in classy LBD's and silky body-skimming, spaghetti-strapped cocktail dresses, wearing strappy heels and statement jewelry...and I felt like a juvenile country bumpkin dressed as if I was on my way to a square dance.  I was mortified and wondered why in the world I had no idea how a girl was supposed to dress for such an occasion.  I stuck out like a sore thumb.  I remember feeling embarrassed for my husband, who must surely think every woman there was more lovely-looking than I could ever hope to be.  Our good friend, a single guy who was in flight school with my husband, smiled at me and said, "You look nice, Laura."  I knew he meant it, because in my experience I've found that men are so much less critical, so much less likely to overthink everything, than women are.  He was a friend who liked me and he was trying to give me a sincere compliment.  But my cheeks were flaming.  I was mortified and wished I could twitch my nose, "I Dream of Jeannie"-style, and be magically transported back home.  Maybe there was something--anything!--in my closet that I could change into that would fit the occasion better than the outfit I was wearing.

I excused myself and went to the ladies' room.  And while I was in the stall, I overheard two women at the sink talking in conspiratorially hushed tones and giggling.  "Oh my gosh, that outfit!  Did you see her?"  "I know.  She looks like she's on her way to a high school prom!"  They said a few other specific things that made me realize with a pang that the person they were talking about was none other than I.  I felt pierced by their words, utterly mortified, and I hid in that stall until I heard them leave.  Then I returned to the dining area and somehow made it through the rest of the night with my head held as high as I could hold it.  Not that high, mind you (the heavy bangs were probably weighing it down), but I managed.  And later, when I unloaded on my husband about my tragic fashion faux pas and my ladies' room nightmare, he assured me that I would always be the prettiest woman in any room in his eyes.  Sigh...When you're loved like that, how can it possibly matter what you wear?

When I was writing about Grace Kelly, with whom I share some personality traits (among them shyness and sometimes crippling insecurity), I thought I'd tweak that real-life event to make it fit into her story.  So when you read this part of the novel, an excerpt from Chapter 8 about Grace's difficult first day of high school, know that it was inspired by that night when I was the young wife of a Naval officer and had to listen to some gossipy women rip apart my outfit as I crouched in a bathroom stall, fighting tears:

       After the final bell had rung and Grace had retrieved from her locker the books she would need to do that night's homework assignments, she made a quick trip to the girls' restroom before heading down to Sister Immaculata's classroom [for detention].  Just as she was about to exit the stall, two girls came in, tittering and talking in conspiratorial whispers as they brushed their hair and touched up their faces in front of the mirror.  Grace froze with her hand on the door latch as she heard one of the girls say with mean-spirited glee, "She looks nothing like her hunky brothers.  Not the least bit.  That awful, kinky hair!"
       "Maybe she's adopted," coldly suggested the other.
       With a jolt, Grace realized that she was the most likely target of their catty comments.  Grace herself had wondered the same at one time--it would certainly explain why she didn't resemble the boys in the least--until Gus pointed out that she was almost the spitting image of their Aunt Nancy, proof positive that she'd been born a Kelly.
       "I'd be embarrassed if I had that name--and looked like that!"
       "I'd have it legally changed as soon as I turned eighteen.  I mean, c'mon."
     Crestfallen, humiliated, yet reluctant to embarrass the two girls by revealing herself and letting them know that she'd heard every petty word, Grace remained behind the safety of the stall door until she was sure that they were gone.

I know just what my poor little heroine felt like, and so that scene was easy to write.  While it was not exactly autobiographical, it was definitely inspired by something I'd experienced firsthand.

But at least I never had to share a name with the iconic beauty who was the princess of both Hollywood and Monaco.  That would have been a hard name to live up to indeed.

Does this post make you want to read Finding Grace?  If so, please do!  And share it with your friends.

Okay then, that's it for today.  Meeting adjourned.  And until next time, happy reading!

Grace-filled Tuesdays (Book Club "Meeting" #28): Writing...about Writing

When I go too long without doing it, I really miss writing.

In the new office in our house in VA that I share with my husband:

a vintage typewriter, bought at a consignment shop in NH for $65.
It was something I thought a writer ought to have.

That's not to say that I believe I'm a particularly good writer; it's just that I have a burning need to write.  It's an exercise that feeds my soul.  I love words.  I love figuring out how to arrange them best so that they say just what it is I want them to say.  Not that I'm always successful, mind you; but the process of messing around with them is just so. much. FUN.

I suppose that's why blogging has been such a good outlet for me for the past six years--and why I keep coming back to it, even when I think I've got nothing interesting to say anymore.

I became a writer relatively late in life, after decades of being a stay-at-home-mom.  When I started working on what I was sure would be my one and only novel in 2007, I was 49, my oldest son was a year out of college and a newly-minted officer in the Army, my youngest son was a freshman in high school, and the three sons in between were away at college.  Unless it was summertime or the college-aged boys were home on a holiday break, I was often alone in the house during those writing days, down in my basement "office."  I might still be in my bathrobe at 2:30 in the afternoon, if it was a particularly productive session (with my first cup of coffee on the desk, long forgotten and cold--an almost unheard of scenario for me, if you know how much coffee I usually drink, and proof that writing completely took over my thoughts and energies).  Even though I never really believed that all those painstakingly created pages would actually be published or read by anyone outside of my inner circle of friends and family, I thoroughly enjoyed the writing for its own sake.

During the almost five years that I spent writing and re-writing--and for the umpteenth time, re-writing!--Finding Grace (with plenty of breaks, of course, when I had to close up shop for days or weeks at a time to attend to the needs of my husband and my boys), I was so happy.  Sometimes when I was working on the dialogue between Grace and Tom, or Grace and Jimmy, in a scene that really tickled me,  I'd realize that I had a silly grin on my face as I tapped away on the keys of my laptop.  "Yes, that's it!"  I would think, often saying it out loud.  "That's just what he would say in that situation!"  What an indescribable joy that was, spending those years getting to know that cast of characters who became like friends to me.  I miss spending that time with them, I really do.

Some days, though, I would ask myself why in the world I was dedicating countless hours to a fictional story that few people (if anyone) would ever read; my generous and ridiculously supportive husband, however, would tell me that if it made me happy to write, that was enough.  But I couldn't help but wonder: does someone deserve to devote so much time to an activity merely because it makes her happy to do so?  That seemed rather frivolous and self-indulgent to me, and I worried that perhaps my days would have been better spent doing more tangible good in the world.

What I must remind myself on an almost daily basis is that God has not given us all the same talents and skill sets.  Some of His children have personalities and abilities that make them suited for very big and visible ways of making a difference in the world; and some of them are more introverted and shy, and must do their work in quieter ways, behind the scenes.  I become tongue-tied in most situations where face-to-face, I am asked to explain or defend my Faith.  But I can sit at my keyboard and pour out my beliefs through the written word.  I have let my books' characters speak for me at times, and pray that God will appreciate the effort I've made to use them for His greater glory and not my own.

I have an idea for another novel, a work of historical fiction that would be a sort of sequel to Erin's Ring (in that it would involve the same young girls, now a few years older and learning about another fascinating and little-known historical event in the Catholic Church).  So far, however, I have not been able to get disciplined enough to get past the first two chapters.  I would need to do quite a bit of research, and I'm daunted by that prospect.  Pray for me, will you?  Because there is a beautiful story about Mary's intercession, about an event that happened right here in our country and about which most people probably know very little, that I truly believe needs to be told.  I want so badly to write it--not for myself, because I think it will lead to commercial success or professional recognition, but for the greater glory of God and His Blessed Mother.

You know, I just realized that it's Tuesday, so this little post filled with book talk has officially become the latest installment of the Grace-filled Tuesdays Book Club.  I hope you've been enjoying your coffee while you followed along.  As for me, there's a half-drunk mug of cold coffee on my desk that needs warming up.  And I can assure you, there will be a second cup!

Before we adjourn, though, I have one question for you.  If you read Finding Grace, did you find the end satisfying?  Did you think Grace ended up with the right boy?  Were you "Team Tom" or "Team Jimmy"?  (I guess that's technically three questions.)

I'm not sure why I felt the need to add that image.  It doesn't remind me of my Grace Kelly and the two young men in her life in the least.  But it's obviously supposed to depict a couple of sweet kids on prom night, a night which plays an important part in the book.  (And the bottom line is that I've just always been a big fan of Norman Rockwell's all-American artwork.)

Okay then, until next time...