Category: Behind the Stories: Inspirations and Encounters

The Annual Whole Series Sale for 2024

The entire Mae Martin Mystery series is marked down through the end of May. Book one, The Calling, is free wherever you buy eBooks, and the rest of the books in the series are discounted to $3.99 each. Book 7.5, Gifts and Thefts, the short story suite that bridges the time between Shadow Family and Chloride Canyon, is always $2.99.

If you prefer paperbacks and are one of those series fans who likes to drive to Truth or Consequences from Albuquerque to buy from Black Cat Books, you should know Black Cat will be following a T or C summer custom and closing for the off season. So, do your shopping in May and stock up on summer reading. They have the best prices on my books—and are simply the best, period. Enjoy soaking in hot springs and going to galleries while you’re in town. See if you can recognize the ones that are in my books.

Book nine, which I think will be titled Smoking Mirror, is almost ready for my beta readers and critique partners. Unless they find something dreadfully wrong with it, it should be with my editor by the end of summer and published in the fall. I hope to be able to show you the cover art soon.

I choose the dirt road

I wonder why running shoes are designed to be pretty. My new ones even have white soles with green and blue treads, as if the person behind me in a race should admire them as I charge ahead. But I run where no one is around to admire my pretty feet.

I meant to take the paved route to the edge of the Elephant Butte dam, but the dirt roads off the side stole my heart and soles. Pavement says nothing to my feet. It slaps back. Dirt has texture and depth. Each step on a dirt road is unlike the step before—soft, rocky, stable, slippery, flat, or uneven. My speed on dirt roads adjusts to the nature of each surface. And underfoot are such amazing finds. A desert flower that tolerates ten percent humidity and the battering of spring winds. In pausing for the flower, I also looked up at the mountains and dared the vertiginous view of the arroyo below.

History lay on both sides of the road. The dirt was dark as if blackened with soot, and in it lay chunks of sturdy white china. Mug handles, mug bottoms, plates, all so thick you could knock your breakfast off the table and nothing would happen to this dinnerware. But something did. One piece had words on the bottom indicating it was made in West Virginia. There was a substantial quantity of it. Friends who know local history think I came across the remains of a Civilian Conservation Corps work camp. If the dishes could talk, they’d have stories, for sure.

Two ravens glided past a red rock cliff, so synchronized I first thought one was the other’s shadow.

My new shoes have now been baptized in dirt.

Experimenting with Paperbacks, Round Two

Since removing my paperbacks from Amazon, I’ve had excellent sales at the local bookstore, but only one paperback sale through my web site. This makes sense. Buyers of physical books do much of their discovery by browsing shelves.

So, I’ve been thinking about the tourists who picked up book one, The Calling, at Black Cat Books and Coffee. If they want book two, Shaman’s Blues, will they look at the end matter, find my web site, notice the “buy paperbacks direct” link, and order from me? Will they remember the name of the bookstore and look up its contact information and order from them? More likely, they’ll look on Amazon and not find a paperback. Maybe they’ll buy the eBook, but probably not, if they’re the type of reader who likes to hold what they call “ a real book.”

My plan was to eventually republish the paperbacks with Ingram, Lulu, or Draft2Digital, but the prices on any of them would have put my books out of range for the average book buyer. Paper is expensive stuff. My books are longer than average, which obviously means more paper, and with the books going through a distributor, the prices increase. Will readers spend twenty-four dollars for a paperback? The same book published through KDP print can be priced six dollars lower. Despite my reluctance to drive business to this company, my ultimate goal is to make books available and affordable to those who want them.

I risk Amazon once again discounting the paperbacks to the point that I lose money on eBooks with their “price match” game. But I also risk losing readers who want the rest of the series in paperback after they passed through Truth or Consequences on vacation. The readers win.

I’m republishing on Amazon. I’ve also made the books available for expanded distribution, meaning other online stores may carry them if they chose. If you want to support small business, you can buy paperbacks for a slightly lower price from me or from Black Cat.

Indirect Effects: The Beauty of the Partial Eclipse

Seventy-six percent eclipsed, the New Mexico sun was still bright. Of course, I didn’t look at it, but the blue-skied day seemed to have barely dimmed at all. I went as I do every Monday to teach an outdoor yoga class. The garden around the patio where we practice is carpeted with the blooming succulents in pink, red, and orange. Class is ordinarily accompanied by the gentle drone of bees. But the ice plants had closed their flowers tight, and not a single bee lingered. A sudden cold breeze came up.

As the hour-long class progressed, warmth returned. At the end, I guided deep relaxation and then sat in silence, focusing on a single flower to see if I could detect its petals opening. I couldn’t. Yet when I looked away and glanced back few seconds later, the petals’ position had subtly changed.

After class, I watered the fruit trees in the garden. The ice plant flowers were wide open, their yellow centers shining back at the sun, welcoming the bees.

She Threw a Dart

 I’ve been reading old drafts I never posted, looking for lost gems, and found this:

It was one of one of  those talking-to-strangers encounters so common in Truth or Consequences, initiated by a bubbly dark-haired woman in the art-installation area of the ladies room at the Brewery. She enthused about the place and asked if I was local. I said I was, and then I asked where she was from.

“LA,” she said. “I’ve been here six months.”

“Sounds like a really positive change,” I  said. “How did you decide on T or C?”

“I thew a dart.”

I must have looked puzzled. She explained, “I spread out a map and threw a dart, and it landed it here. So I came.”

Street Solos

She staggered and wove, her steps crossing each other as she traversed the steep sidewalk, aiming uphill toward Main Street in her irregular style. Heading downhill on my way home after teaching yoga, I tried not to stare at the poor drunk on the opposite side of Foch Street. And then, from seeming unable to walk a straight line, she transformed into a dancer. She spun, both arms extended, her balance perfect despite holding a large cloth bag. Then she staggered on, and then spun again.

Okay, I thought. This is Truth or Consequences. What the heck. You can express yourself.

I continued across Healing Waters Plaza and reached Broadway. While I paused for traffic, a man passing down Daniels along the side of the drug store stopped and posed, casting his shadow on the white wall of the building. He wore a backpack, and his pose resembled the position of the Turtle formation atop Turtleback Mountain,. He stood on one leg, his torso horizontal, his other leg flexed and lifted in an attitude derriere, his arms in front cupping the unseen mountain. Or so it looked to me, having struck that pose a few times to help people see the Turtle. He jogged a few steps and posed again, casting his shadow, repeating the move until he was past the streetlight and out of sight.

What was going on? People alone dancing in the streets. And not the sort of dances you’d do if the music in your head or through your earbuds inspired you to move with the beat. Was it an art event? A random coincidence? A pact or dare between friends? No one was watching or filming. I seemed to be the only audience. I can invent a story, for sure. Reading this, you may be inventing your own. Perhaps that’s what they wanted.

Inspired by Learning

Every two years, I have to renew all my certifications as a fitness professional. I enjoy the classes, including the tests, and feel refreshed as an instructor. I also take weekly classes with a yoga teacher whose skill I aspire to emulating. There’s no required continuing ed for writers, though. I could go years without learning anything new, if I wanted. But since I don’t know everything and can forget to apply what I do know, I took a class on revision and self-editing.

It made me look at my work in progress with fresh eyes and gave me an improved sequence for my revision tasks as well as new tools for analyzing problems in a book. It’s more challenging than analyzing movement but equally fascinating.

I’m now so excited about working on the next Mae Martin mystery, I had a hard time making myself pause to write a blog post. Recent encounters and experiences have made me think “blog post.” Bluebirds in the desert. Daytime coyote songs. A new gallery’s grand opening with dance performances accompanied by gongs and didgeridoo—it was so T or C.

But … I have to work on the book!

*****

If you’re new to following me, you may have missed some of my older posts. Small Awakenings is a collection of reflective essays from this blog.

Stone and Light

First, look at the art. Take your time. Explore.

Then you may understand the effect it had on me. I attended an Art Talk by Otto Rigan at Rio Bravo Fine Art, spending over an hour immersed in images of his work and stories of how he came to this unique form of expression.

After his talk, I ran on a desert trail I’ve known for years, a place so familiar I know where to step, where I’ll meet rough ground or soft sand or the perfect surface, and it looked entirely different. I saw the light, literally. Light glinting on grains of sand like tiny mirrors. Light shining back at the sun from smooth, flat stones. Light flaring from bits of reflective minerals in otherwise dull-surfaced rocks. The textures and shapes of every rock and pebble came to life. My mind went quiet in awe. A spiritual experience of stone and light.

Words that Stayed With Me

I had, as usual, inspiring encounters with art and with friends at the January Art Hop. In one gallery, I talked with a very productive artist who said he makes a new list every day to get things done. I had to confess that a few same things have been on each new to-do list I’ve made—for years. He said cheerfully, without judgment, “That’s okay. You did other things.”

In another gallery, I admired the work of a local quilt artist, mentioning how innovative and unconventional her work was. She said, “Unconventional, that’s me. Getting outside my comfort zone grows my comfort zone.”

Later in the week,  I ran the Healing Waters Trail to the New Mexico Veterans’ Home to visit my friend Bob. He used to run to visit a relative when he was a boy, so he appreciated my method of travel. We sat in the sun with a view of the mountains. In the way of the very old, he reflected on his life, acknowledging there had been some hard times. “I learned from them. But I learned the lessons later, when I could. Not while I was living the lessons.”

I’m probably living many lessons now that I will only learn later. Perhaps after I grow my comfort zone by actually doing the perennial to-dos on that list.