Happy Thanksgiving!

On November 27, 2013November 26, 2013 By Pamela SherwoodIn Holidays2 Comments

Counting one’s blessings at Thanksgiving is even more traditional than a turkey dinner. So this year, like so many others, I am thankful for family, friends, good health, and good books. And for poetry, like this seasonal charmer by Langston Hughes.

Thanksgiving Time

When the night winds whistle through the trees and blow the crisp brown leaves a-crackling down,
When the autumn moon is big and yellow-orange and round,
When old Jack Frost is sparkling on the ground,
It’s Thanksgiving Time!

When the pantry jars are full of mince-meat and the shelves are laden with sweet spices for a cake,
When the butcher man sends up a turkey nice and fat to bake,
When the stores are crammed with everything ingenious cooks can make,
It’s Thanksgiving Time!

When the gales of coming winter outside your window howl,
When the air is sharp and cheery so it drives away your scowl,
When one’s appetite craves turkey and will have no other fowl,
It’s Thanksgiving Time!

–Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it! And a lovely day to everyone, regardless.

Three Poems for Armistice Day

On November 11, 2013November 10, 2013 By Pamela SherwoodIn Holidays1 Comment

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

–John McCrae (1872-1918)

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

–Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

“They”

The Bishop tells us: “When the boys come back
“They will not be the same; for they’ll have fought
“In a just cause: they lead the last attack
“On Anti-Christ; their comrades’ blood has bought
“New right to breed an honourable race,
“They have challenged Death and dared him face to face.”

“We’re none of us the same!” the boys reply.
“For George lost both his legs; and Bill’s stone blind;
“Poor Jim’s shot through the lungs and like to die;
“And Bert’s gone syphilitic: you’ll not find
“A chap who’s served that hasn’t found some change.”
And the Bishop said: “The ways of God are strange!”

–Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)

End of October Thoughts: A Potpourri Post (+ Giveaway)

On October 26, 2013November 6, 2013 By Pamela SherwoodIn Author Interview, Blogging, Holidays, Writing & Publishing6 Comments

The last couple of weeks have been chock-full of stuff. So much stuff that I never got around to blogging last weekend. So, while I still have some “little grey cells” to devote to the task, here’s a five-point bulletin on what’s been happening lately.

1. There is no book that’s so wonderful that someone out there won’t hate it. And there’s no book that’s so awful that someone out there won’t love it. That being said, I have been surprised, pleased, and touched by the response A Song at Twilight has received so far. Heartfelt thanks to all of you who enjoyed the book and took the time to post reviews on Amazon, B&N, Goodreads, and elsewhere. A new book by a comparatively new author needs all the support it can get!

One especially pleasant surprise was this starred review from Library Journal (I knew it was positive, but I didn’t know about the star until I received a tweet about it, and yes, I’m going to indulge myself a little by quoting it):

Library Journal

★ 10/15/2013
“Devastated when Robin Pendarvis’s past wrenches him from her life and crushes her romantic dreams, silver-voiced Sophie Tresilian gives up on love and immerses herself in her music. Now, four years later with her star on the rise, Sophie almost has it all—until Robin walks into one of her London performances and turns her world upside down. The past alternates with the present as tantalizing flashbacks bring fans up to speed in a compelling, deeply complex romance that becomes more tangled as it progresses. A self-possessed heroine and a hero determined to make things right prevail against formidable odds in this engaging story that is enhanced by an abundance of family and friends (some introduced in Waltz with a Stranger) and leaves room for the stories that are sure to come. VERDICT Moving, lyrically written, and superbly inventive, this late Victorian tale has a dash of mystery and more than one startling plot twist to put a refreshing spin on the typical tender reunion story. A delightful way to spend an afternoon.”

It’s always such a lift when a reviewer “gets” your work–and the fact that she avoided giving away major plot spoilers while reviewing is another bonus! 🙂

Of course, the funniest response I’ve received has come from the 10-year-old son of my Queen Beta Reader, who wanted to know “why Auntie Pam’s books all have a guy showing his chest on the cover?” Out of the mouths of babes . . .

2. Much to my surprise, an article I wrote almost a year ago–around the time Waltz with a Stranger came out–ended up being tweeted and re-tweeted all over the Twittersphere last week. I’m startled but flattered by this occurrence, and if the advice I offered helps other writers, then that’s surely all to the good. But I guess it goes to show that nothing posted on the internet ever really dies!

3. With Halloween fast approaching and Thanksgiving following close on its heels, I’m bracing myself for the onslaught of holiday music–good, bad, and indifferent. But I’ve found one palliative already in Connie Dover’s Christmas CD “The Holly and the Ivy.” I discovered Dover when I was in graduate school. She doesn’t tour much or have many recordings to her name, but her voice is exquisite: light, clear, and supple rather than ethereal. Not that I mind ethereal voices, but it’s refreshing to hear a non-breathy trad singer. Dover does a lovely job with most of the holiday standards on the CD, but I can already tell that “The Huron Carol” is going to be a favorite. It’s an unusual song written by a French Jesuit priest in Canada for the Huron Indians, retelling the Nativity story in their cultural terms. Dover sings in French and English here, flawlessly. So, if you’re looking for a Christmas album that’s traditional but also pushes the envelope a little, I recommend this one!

4. Various houses in my neighborhood have been going all out for Halloween. So I’ve been regularly taking pictures on my walks of what I see. Offerings range from the grisly (hanging skeletons, a front lawn strewn with fake body parts–which I’m not including here!). . .

. . . to the elaborate (an ever-expanding haunted mansion, a pirate-themed house) . . . P10-24-13_08.38[1] . . . to the let’s-not-scare-the-kiddies (Mickey & Minnie, sittin’ in a tree).

Most of the decorations are quite clever, although I personally think the graveyard motif is a bit overused this year, along with giant spiders in their cotton batting webs.

5. The Spotlight column returns on Monday, 10/28, with special guest Mia Marlowe, author of Scottish-themed historical romances. Mia and I will actually be doing a blog swap that day, guesting on each other’s sites to promote our new releases. And we’ll each be giving away a copy of Plaid Tidings and A Song at Twilight, respectively. So look for us on Monday. Mia will be here, at Blue Stockings & Crossed Genres, while I’ll be over at her place. Hope to see you there!

In addition to the blog swap giveaway with Mia, I’m holding my usual giveaway this weekend: a copy of A Song at Twilight to one commenter. Post about anything you like, whether book-, Halloween-, or life-related, until midnight PST, 11/3!

ETA: Michelle Fidler wins this week’s giveaway of A Song at Twilight! Please contact me with your mailing address so I can send you your book!

Everything’s Coming Up Pumpkins! (and Giveaways)

On October 12, 2013October 23, 2013 By Pamela SherwoodIn Holidays8 Comments

Three signs for me that autumn is actually here!

The presence of Spiced Cider at Trader Joe’s …

The ubiquity of pumpkin as an ingredient in everything from soup to muffins to coffee…
And the appearance of Halloween decorations in the neighborhood! Front yards sprout tombstones and the occasional body part, jack-o’-lanterns and scarecrows leer from porches, and ghosts and witches dangle from trees. Here is a typical example:

Other houses–more ambitious–erect whole cemeteries, mad scientist’s labs, and dungeons in honor of All Hallows’ Eve. This house seems to be setting up as a haunted mansion in the style of Disneyland’s, with gargoyles grinning from the gateposts and tiny skull garlands festooning the iron fence.

But my personal favorite is this lighthearted, whimsical display of classic Warner Brothers characters, all set to go trick-or-treating. But then I’d like my “scary” well-laced with humor. (The one genre you’ll never catch me reading voluntarily is horror!) See how many of them you can identify beneath their “clever” disguises!

Even the local fauna seem to be getting in the spirit of things. Is it bad luck when a black cat–with witchy green eyes–crosses your path?

Well, not when she only wants her stomach scratched!

So, dear readers, what signs mean autumn to you? I’ll be giving away a signed copy of A Song at Twilight to one commenter this week, until midnight PST, October 20.

ETA: Jean LeZotte wins this week’s giveaway of A Song at Twilight! Please email me with your address, and I’ll send the book off to you as quickly as possible.

The First Breath of Autumn

On September 21, 2013September 21, 2013 By Pamela SherwoodIn Blogging, HolidaysLeave a comment

Autumn Leaves, by John Everett Millais (1856) — *Autumn Leaves*, by John Everett Millais (1856)

Just a short post this week, as I’m currently up to my neck in proposals, synopses, and pre-promotional activity for A Song at Twilight, which comes out in less than two weeks! But it’s worth noting that today is September 21, traditionally considered the autumn equinox (it’s also apparently the UN International Day of Peace–a touch ironic given the current state of world events, but let’s not dwell on that just now). And tomorrow will be the official first day of autumn.

Autumn was a season I had to learn to love. When I was a kid, it meant going back to school, usually amid scorching temperatures, and settling (reluctantly) back in harness. As an adult and a full-time writer, I’m almost always in harness now, either writing or thinking about my next project, so that aspect of autumn has sort of lost its sting. And when the September heat wave passes–and it’s been cooler than usual this year–mornings becomes misty and overcast, days shorter, and nights longer, although we do get an hour back to compensate. And there’s Halloween, Thanksgiving, and the onset of the Christmas holidays to anticipate . . . or dread, depending on one’s perspective!

On the West Coast, we don’t get the same brilliant display of foliage that the East Coast and Midwest enjoy. But even here there are occasional pockets of vibrancy and color, purplish-reds and orangey-golds among the fading, yellowish-greens. And pine cones drop to the ground, and so do those annoying spiky things that look like morning star flails in arboreal form. They might be horse chestnuts, but whatever they’re called, they’re a nuisance, especially underfoot, which means I need to be extra-careful on my morning walks so I don’t do a face plant into the sidewalk.

Autumn in England can be beautiful, I’ve heard, and this ode by John Keats seems to bear that out. So, whenever I’m feeling grumpy about the fall, I remember this poem and try, as Keats did, to find the beauty in this most contradictory of seasons.

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,–
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.