ANOTHER CHANCE TO WIN HER GOOD NAME

For another chance to win my new Maine historical, Her Good Name, leave a comment on Anita Mae Draper's Author Memories blog. I've written a post about old graveyards in downeast Maine.
Author Memories

Mid-May in Downeast May. Spring comes late, but one day you look out and everything is transformed into green. Here is a lovely sight outside my writing window. The daffs have just passed but others, a pale yellow, are going to blossom soon. The bluets and violets are carpeting many areas.
Slugs are attacking the pansies I put out. Every morning I have to do a slug search and destroy. Also on the young flower seedlings my daughter just planted out back in the flower bed bordering our deck.

More on Maine

It is almost time for me to leave this idyllic spot. It's been a good almost three weeks here on the coast of Maine. I've completed the line-edits for my next book, The Rogue's Redemption (Feb.'08), and completed the proposal for my second Love Inspired Historical--no title, not even a working one yet, so I'm calling it Victorian II.

But most of all, I've been able to replenish the well, as some authors call stopping to take a breather and look around you...and imbibe that fragile, tenuous thing called...inspiration.

For any who have never travelled to this last bit of wild Maine coastline (you have to go beyond Bar Harbor), I wholeheartedly encourage you to come to Cutler and hike the Bold Coast and Western Head trails. They vary in lengths, so practically anyone can do them. But on a clear day, you'll never see such blue sky or sea. The cliffs are harrowing (the best part is you can sit right on top of them!) You can sit as long as you like and think about God.

August Fog

August in downeast Maine means fog.

I arrived a few days ago to glorious weather. Nowhere are there skies as blue as in Maine. The black-eyed susans are in full bloom, the asters are just starting to come out, a few raspberries are still visible on the yellowing bushes.

But after a night and morning of rain, fog has set in. From my office window facing the front yard, I see puffs of the white vapors blowing in every once in a while. It's a good day to write.

I've been studying fashion plates of Victorian era teenage girls' outfits. With the exception of the occasional sailor-suit outfit, they dressed more like their mothers. The only difference are the calf-length skirts and hair worn down (just as frequently it seemed to be worn up).

I'm working on writing the first few chapters of a Victorian story, which will be one of Steeple Hill's new Love Inspired Historicals next year.

So, I'd better get back to work...