Dear Readers,

I must confess my sentimental human heart wishes "winner" could be plural in the contest for the Kindle Fire+Raleigh books.

Plural, as in "everyone."

But Jennifer Lucas of Ohio -- come on down!  YOU won that Kindle Fire and all five Raleigh Harmon novels. We would say you're a lucky girl, but it would offend our intrepid forensic geologist who says luck doesn't exist (and I agree with her).

My sincerest thanks to everyone who entered this contest. We'll have more -- name the next Raleigh book? Name some characters? With prizes, of course.

Thank you for being the best readers a writer-girl could hope for. 

Your humble scribe,

-- Sibella

Reading Out Loud

Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled when Oasis Audio converted the Raleigh Harmon books into CD-format. I'm a huge fan of listening to books being read out loud -- either in person or recorded.

But it took me several months to listen to my own audio books. Call me chicken (although, like Raleigh, I prefer beef), I didn't want to be disappointed.

"Give it ten minutes," my husband said, dangling his keys. He kept the Raleigh CDs in his car on rotation. He loved them. "Ten minutes," he repeated, like someone trying to encourage a coward to jump off a diving board. "If you don't like it after ten minutes, shut it off."

I grabbed his keys, stomped out the door and ten minutes later realized my exit had just whipped past. Twenty minutes later I was circling my destination instead of parking because I didn't want to get out of the car.

An hour later my cell phone rang. I was parked in front of Starbucks, not getting out.

"Did you listen?" my husband asked.

"Sorry, I can't talk right now."

I hung up and continued my vigil, wondering whether I'd have the strength to leave this vehicle within the next six hours. Actress and veteran audio book reader Cassandra Campbell was bringing all sorts of imaginary friends to life in "The Clouds Roll Away"-- and nailing every accent, from white-southern-plantation to black-southern-urban.

I could've cried.

But I was too busy trying to figure out what's gonna happen next! Yes, I'd forgotten my own story but more significantly, Ms. Campbell was reading it with those just-right touches of suspense and drama and humor. I didn't like this reading because I wrote it -- I loved it because it was done so well, from production quality to vocal intonations.

This week, Christmas came early. Oasis Audio released "The Rivers Run Dry" and the most recent Raleigh Harmon installment,"The Stars Shine Bright".  Treat yourself to a listen -- Cassandra Campbell reads the first chapter of "Rivers" on YouTube.  

The woman obviously loves words; you can hear it in her voice.

But don't blame me if you miss an appointment. 

And don't call me. 

I'm heading out the door -- CDs in hand -- for a really long road trip.

P.S. Oasis Audio maintains a large catalog of great books told from a redeemed viewpoint, including such luminaries as Max Lucado and Colleen Coble. Find out more and sign up for promotional giveaways on their Facebook page.

Wanna Win a Kindle?

So many times I've been slogging away on some Raleigh Harmon scene while muttering, "This is NOT working!" when suddenly that pleasant little "bing!"chimes from my email.


Oh, dear reader. That sound always reminds me of "It's a Wonderful Life" -- the part about how every time a bell rings, an angel earns his wings.


You, dear readers, seem like angels to me.


Through the years, you've kept the Raleigh Harmon series going with your heart-felt notes and happy posts to Facebook and Twitter. I may never find the proper words to thank you.


So I'm spreading some literary bling -- please enter the contest!


I'll be giving away a Kindle Fire and ALL five Raleigh Harmon books. That's Stones to Stars --- with Rivers, Clouds and Mountains in between.


The contest runs until August 27, when I'll announce the winner right here on the Deeper Mysteries blog. And if you post a link to the contest on Twitter and Facebook, you'll increase your chances of winning.


To enter the contest via Facebook, CLICK HERE.
For Twitter, click HERE.


And if you're a blogger, consider signing up through the clickin' cool hens at LitFuse publicity HERE. You'll find lots of great authors there, and more contests. (You also might develop an irrational desire to raise chickens. Don't blame me.)


Have fun!


And may the best reader win!

Vistas

    Among summer's most delicious moments are mountain hikes.
     This week, I was blessed by the company of four young guys who offered to climb to the ridiculously named Poo Poo Point.
    Eight miles, up and back.
    It turned out to be one of the hottest days of the year. 87-degrees. For the Pacific Northwest, that's scorching.
    I used to run this same hike after completing my weekly word-quota for the Raleigh Harmon books. It was a badge of sorts. But time is proving it marches with even greater determination: Now the boys left me in their dust.
     Left me with my thoughts.
     I wish I could say some brilliant insights hit me. The paltry truth is cliches came, unbidden yet with the stubbornness of stupidity.
     How the deep forest reminds me of growth, eternity. How climbing a mountain is like meeting life's challenges.
    Nothing revelatory, I know.
    But when we reached the top, I took this photo.
     Years from now, I hope these guys understand its greater meaning.
     Each one of them is on the cusp of manhood.
    And just past their feet, the mountainside disappears as though sliced by a guillotine. Most summer days, hang-gliders are launching themselves from that spot, flying into thin air, giving a whoop, and trusting God as if they were nothing more, and nothing less, than birds.
 
 
 

 

Have You Seen Your City?

I've said it before: I love a good hunt.

     Today The G-Men and I went on a scavenger hunt through Seattle. Sponsored by City Solve, the clues proved challenging, mind-bending and demanding of some good hard walking. We saw our city with fresh eyes and discovered previously unexplored parts of this hip, smart and frequently odd town.
     We also deciphered nearly all ten of our designated stops -- with one kick-me exception.

Westlake area. A bonus clue. Find a drink with ice cubes.
And for once, Seattle needed cooling off.
Temps hit almost 80 today.

      The clue was to combine the name of a Mediterranean toy dog with a bird of prey. We decided on "Maltese Falcon." The second part of the clue said that the designated stop was on 2nd Avenue "in the north end of Pioneer Square."
     We saved this clue for the end, since it was on our route back to the race's finish -- at 88 Keys, a dueling piano bar (not kidding). But by the time we got to 2nd Ave, we'd already spent nearly four hours hiking Seattle's notorious hills, and now, as we wandered up and down 2nd Ave, our spirits flagged.
    Finally, we stopped a cop on horseback.
    "We're looking for The Maltese Falcon."
    He scratched his head. "Only thing that comes to mind is a statue," he said. "It's of some predatory bird."
    It was possible. After all, Seattle has a statue of Vladamir Lenin. Why not the the bird of Bogart fame.
    But the tatue wasn't in Pioneer Square.
   "And," the cop added, "I don't think that bird is a falcon."

One of the funnier clues.
Spoofing the Tom Cruise divorce: Find L.Ron Hubbard's
book, Dianetics. The guy in the Scientology Center
was NOT amused. 

    My husband continued to grill the cop, picking his brain for anything named Maltese or Falcon -- a restaurant, bar, antique store -- anything!
     Meanwhile I gazed longingly down a side street. Heaven was right there -- down Cherry Street. Seattle Mystery Bookshop.
     If only we had time for tangents! Go browse, lose myself in the stacks . . . .
      But the clock was ticking, and we were losing.       After wandering 2nd Avenue some more, we finally decided to this stop would be one of our allowable "skips" that the rules allow.

    Heading down to 88 Keys, I started banking the good memories. My kids saw -- really saw -- their city. From crowds and tourists and street musicians to sweet and helpful city residents joyfully helping us whenever we got turned around to chain-smoking addicts outside recovery clinics. All of them intriguing characters, providing teachable moments.  And we probably walked a good five miles, from Pioneer Square and the waterfront to Belltown, Capitol Hill, south Lake Union, through downtown and Pike Place Market and back to Pioneer Square.
     Yet despite all that, I felt haunted.
     Somewhere -- right under our noses-- that blasted Maltese Falcon was mocking us.
    At the finish, a girl checked our photos, making sure we actually found each clue and that all four of us were in every picture.
       I glanced over her shoulder, reading the answer sheet.
      Maltese Falcon, it read. Seattle Mystery Book Store.
      "What?" I cried. "It was the book store?!"
      She nodded. "Not a lot of people got that one."
      Fine, I wanted to say, but I'm a mystery writer. If there was one clue we should've gotten, that was it! And my heart had been pulling me to go there-- and I ignored it.
      I could get all philosophical here -- about following your heart, thinking less literally, not watching the clock -- but I'm frankly too tired.
    I want to put my feet up and celebrate with the G-Men.
    Because next year, we'll be out there again.
     And beware, mystery clues. I'm coming for you.
     City Solve holds races around the country. Check to see if there's on in your your area. 

We were SUPPOSED to find a sign with the word "love."
We finally resorted to changing Move to Love.  The guy painting this sign took our picture.
You can see an incomplete green blob, on the right, which we interrupted.
Nice guy -- nice city.

The Terrific Trish Perry

Trish Perry's novels are cherished for their grace, tender insights, great writing . . . and humor.          

       Lots of humor.

      "I sat down and picked up The Guy I'm Not Dating, not really intending to read it," wrote one reviewer of Trish's first book, "just thinking I'd glance over a few pages. Two hours later I'm still 'glancing over' those pages and laughing enough to make my husband ask, 'What's so funny?' Later the same night, I turned to the last page and had to declare, 'Loved it! Loved, loved, loved it!"

      Short-listed for the Romance Writer's of America Inspirational Reader's Choice Award, The Guy I'm Not Dating was followed by ten more books (and more awards), from the Tea for Two series to devotionals to co-authoring with the likes of Debby Mayne, Jane Kirkpatrick, Kristin Billerbeck and Dian Hunt.
    Trish's latest release is The Midwife's Legacy. A generational story, told through the imaginations of four different authors, the story begins in 1800s Midwest before moving to the Willamette Valley of Oregon. Trish's story, Labor of Love, is linked to the others by a journal whose entries illuminate the calling of midwifery. As each story unfolds, the journal provides encouragement to each woman navigating her own path as a midwife. The women also discover each nugget of wisdom is also speaking into their personal lives.
    I caught up with the utterly lovely Trish to ask her a few questions about her books and her writing life. I hope you enjoy her company as much as I did. Be sure to visit her website, www.trishperry.com, and soak up the writerly atmosphere.

Some writers have a direct path to publication, but others follow circuitous routes which eventually deposit them at their intended destination. Which method describes your journey to becoming an author? And would you choose that path again?

My route was definitely circuitous! I didn't even start writing until I was in my early forties, well after I had dipped my toes in a number of different ponds, professionally. But I brought those years of experience with me when I began to write, so I hesitate to say I would change the path if I could. Still, I do envy those young writers who figure it out well in advance and aim for education and experience that will enhance their writing abilities and chances for publication. The idea of having started publishing 20 years earlier than I did? Sigh.

Yes, "everything in its time" is much easier said than endured. But you weren't idle because while your imagination percolated with story ideas, you went and got a degree in psychology. Does that degree help you write fiction? Can you give us an example from your latest release?

Yes, my degree is a huge help. I don't sit down and create characters who fit a textbook definition or diagnosis in any fashion, but I've benefitted from studying counseling and the types of dysfunction many of us experience in our lives and families. When it comes to designing internal conflict, it helps to have been absorbed by psychology in the past.

As far as an example from Labor of Love is concerned, my heroine, Kendra, loves being a midwife and switched quite a few years ago from the pre-med path her sister took. Kendra's father, now deceased, was a noted cardiologist, just as Kendra's sister is now. Kendra knows her father regarded midwives with a degree of disdain. So now she feels a residual lack of respect from her father, which is mirrored by events that develop with a local doctor in the story. That local doctor's criticism of Kendra hits her at a deeper level than it might, had her father been more appreciative of the profession. In other words, Kendra has daddy issues, and they're being played out with this doctor.

Yes, I see the psych degree in there! Excellent. What drew you writing about midwives? 

My agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, asked me if I had any interest in writing about a contemporary midwife. I loved the idea and wanted to dispel some of the stereotypes that still linger about how midwives present themselves and operate today. The first three novellas in the collection involve midwives from times gone by, when the profession wasn't considered an unusual practice. Today many people still think of midwifery as it was when it resurged in the 60s--rather fringe-like. The kind of thing practiced by hippy chicks living in communes. I enjoyed demystifying that misconception.

On your website, you always ask writers to name Five Random Things about themselves. Turning the tables here! Tell us Five Random Things about Trish Perry.

• I can't swim. Not a bit. I'm like a big bag of rocks in the water.

• When I was a kid, my sisters and I performed regularly at a nursing home, singing old British songs our mother taught us.

• I have a black belt in TaeKwonDo. I don't remember much of that today, though. That was about a decade and fifteen pounds ago.

• I used to sing lead in a rock/R&B band. Loved that.  

• I'm an oddly good shot, which I learned while living in a rural setting filled with a plethora of "varmints." 

Girls who can shoot straight are extra-cool. What can readers expect next from Trish Perry? 

I'm about to write a Christmas novella for a collection with Martha Rogers and Debby Mayne, for B&H's Bloomfield series. That won't release until 2014, I believe. I'm deep into a day job right now, so I've had to pull back on contracts for  a while. I miss writing regularly, and I can't wait to get cracking on this new project!

 In the meantime, head to Trish's page on Facebook and give her a big ol' LIKE.

National Poetry ... Month?

It's become personal tradition to recognize National Poetry Month only when half of April is already over. Nothing subversive on my part, although that would be a nice pun.

The lack -- half-lack? -- of recognition comes from a very busy life.

Busy in a way that feels as unbound as free verse, lush as a sonnet, and metered by the rhythms of growing boys.

While I still think setting aside one month for heralding poetry is ridiculous, thirty days is more honor than love's one-day in February. Perhaps the time allotted speaks volumes about our culture.

But today, as National Poetry Month dawned on me once again, I pulled out one of my favorite poets. W.H. Auden first crossed my path in college, in particular, "As I Went Out One Evening." The words hit me like granite. I was a geology major, and Auden was weaving into his verse elements such as stones, tectonics, and glaciers. Better: he was using those elements correctly, even from a scientific perspective.

When I became a Christian, his verse expanded even further. That reverential Catholic perspective of his, dyed by profound personal trials, reached into every twisted chamber of my heart.

Here's the great poet reading the words which today still feel like a death-to-life blow.