Hello, my friends! I’m in the great state of Texas again, but I haven’t left you lonely. My friend Linda Rettstatt is here to talk about her new release, Act of Contrition! Please make her feel welcome!
I’m a juggler. It all starts first thing in the morning when I open my eyes and juggle the desire to close them again and snuggle back into the blankets with the desire to pay the rent. Most days paying the rent wins and I haul myself out of bed. My day job (which is how most of us authors refer to the work we do to pay the rent because we then write well into the night) is that of a social worker. And, again, I juggle my way through the day, determining who needs what, how to help them get it, and who might be feeding me their own brand of fiction to get unneeded help. It’s always a judgment call that requires a good measure of investigation and whole lot of faith.
Evenings are a whole new juggle—making dinner and taking the time to eat it without a thousand distractions, then deciding between something interesting on TV versus the writing or editing I need to do versus the laundry waiting in a pile.
When I started writing, I delved into writing women’s fiction. Well, they say write what you know and I know being a woman. Most women I know are jugglers, even if they’re not writers. It’s a fact of our existence. (In fairness, men may also find themselves juggling, but I can better speak to the female experience.) Women can make a sandwich while feeding a baby and taking a phone call all at the same time. Some call this multi-tasking, but juggling is, I think, a more descriptive term. Don’t drop the sandwich, the baby or the call. Some days you feel you’re juggling Nerf balls and other days it’s butcher knives.
Now, let me try to juggle two truths and lie for you.
1. I used to play guitar for a folk group and worked as a semi-professional musician for over ten years. We recorded one album during that time, but mostly had a blast playing live concerts in small venues. Once we played a ski resort where we were paid with drinks, ski equipment use, and lift passes—not a good combination.
2. I’ve been married and divorced three times. Number One was a college jock who never quite made it to pro sports and took up drinking instead. Bottoms up and bye! Number Two was a nice guy who taught math on a college level. In the end, we just didn’t add up. Number Three—well, let’s just say he had a wandering eye. And I don’t mean an optical problem. I’m staying happily divorced now.
3. I got over my fear of heights by flying (in a window seat) to the Grand Canyon to stand on the edge and look down into that beautiful, terrifying abyss, and then to take a hot air balloon ride over Sedona, Arizona at sunrise. Whew. I’m cured.
But back to juggling. In my women’s fiction novel, Act of Contrition, Jenny Barnes has to learn to juggle grief, guilt, love and forgiveness. Here’s a blurb:
The argument ended as blinding headlights bore down on her. The steering wheel spun beneath Jenny’s fingers. A horn blared, and then…nothing. Jennifer Barnes wakens to learn she is the sole survivor of the crash that claimed her husband and eight-year-old son.
Why did she survive? The question haunts her even after she retreats to her cottage on the coast of Maine. She’s seeking a place to grieve and to escape the guilt that eats at her. Instead of the solitude she anticipates, Jenny comes face to face with her past.
Here are the links to Act of Contrition:
Turquoise Morning Press http://www.turquoisemorningpressbookstore.com/products/act-of-contrition-by-linda-rettstatt
Thanks so much, Margaret, for having me here today.
Now see if you can guess the lie! Ready? Go!