Sneak Peek from the Sequel!!

I'm not sure what I ever imagined myself doing after I published my first novel back in March, but I'm pretty sure writing a sequel so soon afterward was not it. And yet, that's exactly what I've been doing. I have so enjoyed every message I've received from every single reader of Rose, On Her Own. I could have only dreamed of having people read and enjoy anything I'd ever written this much.

I'm quite certain that Rose will become a trilogy now, if not a series. It's all still in very rough form at the moment, but for anyone who might care...I thought I'd offer a little peek into the sequel Rose, On Her Way. It begins mid-conversation with Rose and Jeannie:

"You know, Frank even offered to shoot Trevor's wedding alone, Jeannie. And swore he would never tell you. But I love my job, and as torn as my heart was that day, I knew I had to go on. My camera is always my first love. I was true to that, and true to myself.”

“You know, Rose, even if you had not been able to attend the ceremony that night, and even if I had found out, I would have understood. You know that.”

“I know, Jeannie. I know. But I held myself to a higher standard. My career had to come first. I couldn't let those feelings get in the way.”

“My dear Rose. Those weren't merely feelings. Those where emotions that defined your life at that moment in time. And take this however you choose, but I've seen the pictures from that night and they were nothing short of remarkable. I don’t know how you did it, but you did. If you remember, I told you when I gave you the assignment that the last wedding would be your best work, and I was right. And now, knowing how much you had been through that day, it’s a true credit to your talent that you were still able to produce such beautiful photographs. And let me add this much…I know I’m older than you, and I’m from a big city, but even a fool could see there’s something special about Trevor. I can’t put my finger on it, but he’s unique. A small town guy for sure…every small town has one that stands out. But he’s wonderful on the eyes, and adorable. I understand you more than you know, Rose. And I understand why you fell.”

Rose knew every word Jeannie spoke was true. Being reminded of how easy on the eyes Trevor was definitely a fact no one needed to remind her of. And even though Rose was apprehensive to open up to Jeannie, again, she knew it was for the best. Jeannie understood so much about her. Even things Frank couldn't understand. They had a wonderful bond and Rose always felt as though life made so much more sense after Rose a discussion with her. Rose had confessed some extremely personal situations to her in the past few months, and knowing she had Jeannie’s support was something she counted on. She felt it a wonderful thing to have this woman as her confidant.

“I appreciate that, Jeannie. He really is a special person. I’ll never really know what came over me that made me do the things I did with him, but I can’t really say I regret it. Does that make me terrible?”

“Not at all, Rose. Not at all. Let me ask you one thing. Did you get anything positive from the experience? I’m assuming you did, otherwise you would regret it. I've told you before, I've had affairs. Sometimes they end well, and sometimes they don’t. But if you’re lucky, you learn something from it all. You seem to have emerged from this different somehow. Like you've been refined…through the fire and all that. I like it, Rose. You may feel guilty or remorseful, but I like what I see in you since all these events transpired.”

“You see all that in me, Jeannie?”

“Yes, Rose. I do. But I have to be honest with you. Though I see lessons learned and decisions made, I also still see some confusion in your eyes. I know you love Frank, but you haven’t yet convinced me that you have Trevor completely behind you. Am I right? Just tell me if I’m not and I won’t ever bring it up again.”

Rose stared down at the table again. There was no point in lying to this perfectly wonderful friend. And even if she had, Jeannie would have known the difference. 

TO BE CONTINUED... :)  I hope to publish the sequel by late summer 2013

Feel free to visit my  new website (still in the developmental stages) at www.michelependleton.com

The book Rose, On Her Own is available at amazon.com in print and for the Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/Rose-Her-Own-Michele-Pendleton/product-reviews/1482569167/

Also for the Nook:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rose-on-her-own-michele-pendleton/1114922420?ean=2940016190150&itm=1&usri=2940016190150

For the Love of Writing

That's why I did it. That's why I self-published my book. Because I love to write. It's that simple.

Did I ever think I'd make a million dollars at it? No. Never. I've never cared about money except to have enough to pay bills and take care of my family. Even if I was a millionaire I'd still shop at thrift stores. Money is best spent on family and friends and out of love.

Did I care? Not in the slightest. This isn't about money for me. I've written for myself for free for years. I wrote for the college newspaper for free, and I loved every second of it. I've always made sacrifices for my love of writing. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

Did I think everyone would enjoy it? Not at all. No more than I think every person enjoys the same food or clothing or car or anything else in life where we all have different personalities that cause us to make different and unique choices.

Do I think it's literary genius? No, but I do think it's well-written, well-edited, and what my heart wanted to say. If people like it, then fine. If not, then that's fine, too. But I take my writing seriously, and I always have. It's sacred to me.

Did I think I might offend some people?  Well, yes. But it wasn't intentional, because I merely wrote my heart. I just have a very diverse group of friends who range from very conservative to very liberal, and I love them all. I never once thought my book was a global target that would please or impress everyone. Such an achievement isn't even possible.

Why did I do it then? For the love of writing. Seriously. And because deep down, I just wanted to share my words and have even one person say they were moved by it. If I had only sold one book and someone loved it, that would have been complete validation for me. But I have sold more than one, and I do believe most people have enjoyed it. Some have been more moved by it than others, I'm certain. But I'm literally thrilled that anyone related to it and was even momentarily engaged by it.

No, I didn't get picked up by a famous publishing house with an advance and a contract. But I'm quite easily intimidated. And admittedly, I don't deal with rejection well. I never even sent the manuscript off to anyone. I self-published because I just march to the beat of my own drum. I always have. I don't read instructions, I put something together based on the picture on the box. I don't follow recipes, I just add ingredients and mix and experiment. The same went for publishing. I just did it my way.

Am I proud of myself? Well, yes. And I'm one of the most humble and easily embarrassed people you can ever meet. But I am proud of myself. Not for publishing, not for selling more than one book, not for seeing my name in print or my words put between a book cover. I'm proud of myself for getting the guts to finally do something I didn't think I would ever do. I was always too shy to put my work out there. But you never know until you try. My brother died at 32 without living out all his dreams. I did it for me and for him because he never can now.

Short and sweet...I have too many words in my heart for just one person, and I've kept them inside for far too long. And that's why I did this. For the love of writing.

http://www.amazon.com/Rose-Her-Own-Michele-Pendleton/dp/1482569167

From Rose and the color pink, to Leanna and the color purple...

Since wrapping up my book on Rose and finally publishing this week, I've wondered what to focus on next. I could take a break from writing, but I'd rather not. I ventured into the world of publishing later than I meant to, and I want to write as much as I can while I still have the chance.

Rose taught me many things...about life, about myself, about others. She helped me look at life and people differently. And so, while I am finished with her story (for now, at least) she will continue to be a part of me in my next venture. My main character's name for the next book is Leanna. The title of the book, unless I ultimately feel compelled to change it, will be The Silver Platter. And an important element of the story is a purple ribbon...I promise it will make more sense later.

Leanna works in an antique store, assisting it's elderly owner with many errands and responsibilities he can no longer take care of himself. As I mentioned in my previous blog, I started this story in 1989 and worked on it again in 2010. And honestly, I'm not sure which one is more difficult...starting a story from scratch, or attempting to complete and fill in gaps on a story that's 3/4 done. Leanna is waiting on me though, so I will tackle this with excitement.

The last time I worked on this story, I made a point of surrounding myself with antiques in order to really get into the feel of the plot. I would go to antique stores and just walk around for hours. It's something I love anyhow, truth be told, but it certainly helped me in my writing. I look forward to doing that once again.

Is Leanna a similar character to Rose? Well, I write from the heart, and a little bit of me goes into every one of my main characters. So there may be some resemblance between the two, but Leanna is unmistakably different in many ways.

And sidetracking me from Leanna is the cemetery book which still yearns for my attention to its completion, as well as a part II to Leanna's story which is at least 1/2 written, and a working title with a few thousand words for Rose part II. I find myself moving back and forth...I do that a lot. I'm desperately trying to do one thing at a time though. Each project is like a child, all begging for me to look at them and listen to them. And since I raised four kids, maybe that's why I can move back and forth between each project without a lot of difficulty.  Maybe waiting until I was older to finally publish gave me a chance for life lessons that make it all the sweeter now.

And now, I must go...for Leanna is calling my name...

What Dreams Did Come...

It was difficult to sleep last night. No one wants to say goodnight to a day where they saw a dream come true. You see, yesterday, I saw a dream materialize that I'd had since childhood. I saw my the first tangible copy of my first novel. After far too long of waiting and wondering, postponing and pushing it all to the side, I finally decided to publish. Was it easy? Not at all. Will I do it again? Absolutely.

I have to do it. It's everything I am and everything I've ever wanted to be. Even when I didn't understand why I had to write, I did. And I've saved almost every scrap of notebook paper, stationery, journal, and post it note that I've ever written a poem or started a short story on. From the time I was around nine years old. I have stacks and stacks.

So why did it take me so long to make my dreams come true? Well, there's not any one certain reason. Mostly, I suppose I didn't believe in myself. It still shocks me that people would want to read what I write. I've always wanted to share, but after college, I became apprehensive again. I assumed it might be some childhood fantasy that would eventually disappear. But it never did. I moved on with my life, had children, moved to another city and took on a couple more children, and settled into domesticated life. And as much as I love and always have loved my family, there was always a nagging feeling inside of me that I was missing something.

It was finally around four years ago when I told a friend that I wrote, and he asked to see some examples. There might have only been a handful of people that had ever seen my work. I hid it all. And I reluctantly took some examples to him, and to my surprise, he really enjoyed reading them. It made me wonder if I might actually ever find my way back one day...to writing, and maybe...maybe...even sharing it. I wrote a few poems and notes and blogs, but not much else. Until I discovered NaNoWriMo in November 2010.

NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writer's Month. The challenge is to write a minimum of 50,000 words in the form of a novel within the 30 days of November. I didn't think I would make it that first year, but I did. With a story idea I had in 1989. Still sitting in a folder. I had the idea at work one day and wrote it down to save it. So I made my 50,000 word goal that month, saved the document, and went on with my life. Again.

Then came November 2011, and I decided to try again. Although by this time I had a couple of obstacles. I had tried to start writing a journal of visiting different cemeteries. Almost as soon as I started that in July 2011, I collapsed one day in the middle of Huntsville's most beautiful cemetery, Maple Hill. I was told to walk with a cane until my knee replacement a few months later. I was a bit depressed, and felt uninspired to participate in NaNoWriMo that year, but still made my goal of 50,000 words. And when I was done, I saved the document, and went on with my life. Again.

The year 2012 brought many events and activities. Some I expected, some I didn't. I had a knee replacement in March. My youngest of four children graduated high school in May. And I traveled to as many cemeteries as I could in different states to continue my dream of publishing my cemetery book. My knee was, and still is, a challenge to deal with. But I am stubborn. So I kept going. Then it was sometime around late August when something changed.

I had an idea. I wrote down a few words and tucked them away safely. And in those words lived a young woman who I decided to name Rose. I thought of what a book cover would look like, and what Rose might actually look like, and all the things she might encounter. And on November 1, 2012, I began to write. But this NaNoWriMo was different. The words begin to flow, and unlike the past two years where it took me the entire month to meet my word goal, I met it just over halfway into November. And rather than saving the document and moving on with my life, again, I kept writing. And I kept writing. And then, there was Rose, in her entirety. I finished writing the story just before the end of the year. And 2013 brought the challenge of editing it to publish.

There was something, thank goodness, about Rose that made me realize it was time. Time to stop waiting. Time to share the words. Time to make my dreams come true. So many friends and family have died without realizing their own dreams. I just wanted to fight to see if it could happen to me before my time here is up. And so, Rose was born.

So, what's next? Well, there's all those stacks of papers I've been saving for years. They hold ideas I've had and secrets I've forgotten, and they all have the possibilities of yielding characters for future works. And that novel idea from 1989 that I used for NaNoWriMo 2010? Well, I'm editing it now and I hope to publish it in a few months. I may have hidden all those stacks of papers away for too long, but at least I didn't lose them or throw them away. They've always been, and will always remain, some of my most valuable possessions.

Rose will always be special to me though, because she changed me. She gave me courage, and a voice, so I gave her wings. Whatever else I write, I will always owe to Rose. On her own.

Book Update, and a Visit to Pleasant Gardens Cemetery (With Photos!)

Well, after 12 months of writing, creating, thinking, driving, exploring and picture-taking, I realize that I come to a close of the one year timeline for my book about my experiences of visiting cemeteries.  I must say that it has completely changed my life.  I've learned things that I might have never learned, and seen things I never knew existed.  So much beauty lies in these places, and I don't just mean physical beauty of landscaped grounds...not all cemeteries have those.  Sometimes the beauty is in an old tombstone, written in a script from long ago, or written with wording that is no longer common. 

So, here I am now, with literally thousands of pictures, hundreds of cemeteries behind me, and challenged to collect it and condense it all into something that I can publish.  And though I realize that *this* is my biggest hurdle, I move forward in total anticipation of my own finished product.

The last cemetery I visited left a lasting impression on me.  It was one in my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee, and I was only in town for a short while one afternoon.  My good friend Bob Wilkes had suggested that I visit Pleasant Gardens Cemetery after a recent article in the Chattanooga Times Free Press, so I thought I would squeeze it into my unexpected travel that day. This was an old historical black cemetery that had suffered from a lack of maintenance over the years.  This cemetery has  some notable burials here, including that of Ed Johnson, who was lynched on the Walnut Street Bridge in 1906, and Andrew and Leroy Wright, two of the Scottsboro Boys.  After reading about the rough state of the grounds, and unaware of exactly what I would see or the terrain that awaited me (which I still approach carefully since my partial knee replacement in March), I ventured on.

The heat was excruciating that day, as it has been for much of this southern summer, and I was arriving at a point in the early afternoon sun that almost made me reconsider my decision.  But, then I thought about the other visits to cemeteries I've had in rain, and cold, and wind, so this was just another type of weather to endure. Despite my inquisitiveness, I always try to maintain a sense of reverence when I walk through a cemetery.  I understand that what is a stroll of curiosity for me is a visit of reflection and emotion for those who stand by the graves of their loved ones.  So when I saw a young black woman with her arm linked inside the arm of an elderly black woman entering the cemetery just ahead of me, I stayed back for a moment, wanting to make sure that I didn't disturb their time there.

But, my dear husband Joel, who loves to talk to anyone and everyone and literally never meets a stranger, began to strike up a conversation with these ladies.  I walked on to the side, thinking they might not be interested in talking, but I was quite mistaken.  They were there in an attempt to find the graves of some family members, but the cemetery is in such a state of ruin that it's often difficult to locate a particular marker.  And many graves are unmarked as well, including the grandfather of musician Lionel Richie.   But we all walked up to the memorial marker in this cemetery which gave information about how it began.  Even this monument looks as though it could topple over at any moment because the pillar has shifted from the base.  But we all stood there together, and attempted to read the words on the monument.

We asked for the last names of the relatives they were looking for, and did our best to scour the grounds in search of their headstones, but to no avail.  As we walked through the hills and over and around the fallen brush, we noticed how so many of the stones had fallen over.                                      

The elderly lady was beginning to tire from the heat...which was understandable, because so were the rest of us.  But she truly needed to leave and get back to a cooler place.  She had actually braved the rough terrain and heat for a good while, and I was a better person for listening to the things she had to say.  We said our goodbyes to the ladies, and they began to walk away.

Joel and I walked around for a while after the ladies left, but we were both struggling with the heat and I had given my new knee quite a workout already.  We left realizing that this very special place needs more recognition, more attention, and more loving care to be restored for the respect and honor of those who are buried there.

Desperately Seeking Discipline

Well, I just started this blog, and already I'm behind.  Such is my life.

As someone who just watched her last of four children graduate high school, I realize that, for most of my adult life, my schedule has revolved around my family.  Now, as I reclaim my own goals of writing that have been waiting in the background, I am painfully aware that I don't have a schedule of my own.  My schedule has always been keeping up with everyone else.  Apparently keeping up with myself is another matter entirely.

It's an interesting thing to me...to actually have a little time to myself.  Mind you, three of my grown children are still living under my roof, so I am far from an empty-nester...but I no longer hold the level of responsibility for them that I once did.  And so, accepting the fact that I am free from many of my former motherly duties, I am desperately seeking discipline for myself, so that I may finally move forward with my own goals.

So, here I go...delving into the land of writing again...writing for myself, and writing because I want to.  Writing because I can, and because it completes me.  Not with a pen and paper as I often did in middle school, high school and college, but on my trusty netbook.  Because I have years and years of words inside me that have been dying to come out, and I can type as fast as the words reveal themselves to me.

Yes, it's discipline I seek...the discipline to allow myself to be still, and hear those words inside me, and take the time to capture them before it's too late. 

Hello World!

So why does the world need another blogger? Well, I don't suppose it really does.  So why bother?

Well, I just want to write.  In fact, I love writing.  It's been all I've ever wanted to do since I was a young girl.  I was on the student newspaper in elementary school, high school, and college.  I thought I would write for a "real" newspaper one day, but sometimes life doesn't go as we plan for it to, and so I never did.  Sadly, I stopped writing altogether for a number of years, and it's only been within the past three years that I've found my way back.  Maybe this blog won't bring peace to world, but it brings peace in my soul.  Peace that I had lost for many years.  My kids, all mostly grown now, are cheering me on, as is my husband.  I spent many years cheering for them, now they smile for me as I make up for the lost time of those non-productive years.

So, as this first of many blogs, I welcome whoever may read this.  I hope over time to write words that make you laugh, and think, and feel.  Those are the things I've always wanted for anyone who read what I took the time to capture into words.