We spent the first week doing an edit of my book. I continued to write each day for about thirty minutes to an hour as Brad had suggested. The biggest thing, he said, to writing a novel is to do so like eating an elephant. The only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, and he paired or made this analogy to my writing.
I was nearly eighty-five percent finished at the end of week one at Casa Amor. Brad talked to me about the next steps to getting a novel published. He said, "You have to build a platform, Stephanie." By that he meant that I need not only to build a list of followers and to understand the market for my book, I had to get my name out there even before publishing. He also said that since I was nearly finished that I needed to start writing query letters. These are basically applications to publishing houses that may take the time to pick up my book.
While the steps were many, he was able to make it understandable with an almost effortless advisory bent. He knew what to say and what to do at each stage of the process, as he had gone "thru the hoops" on many an occasion. He was, after all, one of the most accomplished writers on the planet currently.
In the following three weeks, I would finish the book. I was able to hammer out the last sentence on a Sunday morning. I didn't know how, but somehow I knew the book would sell. I would someday find out just how successful it would be...
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Around 8:00 AM, I started some breakfast in the kitchen. The kitchen at Casa Amor was perhaps my favourite place in the whole house. It was open to both the dining room and the living room. The Italian tiles of the backsplash and eighteen-by-eighteen tiles on the floor. Double-ovens in the wall, a pizza oven for making brick/wood-fired pizza, and then the Italian marble tops. Not only was it stylish, but was kept immaculate.
Brad insisted on a lite breakfast of eggs and bacon, which was easy for me to muster up. I made only enough for he and I as I figured that the kids would sleep a bit. Now adults; of course, but they would always be my "little" children. I was correct, as Ryan and Isabella creeped down the stairs around 9:30 AM and Liam 10. By the time they made it to the breakfast table, I had baked my favourite breakfast dish: blueberry souffle. The recipe had been handed down for years, and I was the third in the generational lineage to have a copy. I had yet to share my guarded secret with Isabella, as she had yet to pry it out of me. Now that she and Ryan were forming a special bond, I decided to go ahead and give her a handwritten copy that morning.
After Brad had eaten, he retreated back to the office to write. Despite the fact that this was a vacation, he was in the middle of a book and had recently hit a stride he did not want to waiver from. He explained he was in the character development phase, and needed to be constantly writing until these characters came to life.
As I thought about my own book, there was not much to my character. She was a lonely woman for most of her adult life. Perhaps there were too many immediately identifiable references to myself; but in a way, I wanted my story told. Brad took a break around 11:00 and insisted that I bring him up to date on my work. He retreated to a leather chair in the Florida room and read my entire novel to this point.
His suggestion was that I turn it into a memoir. He, too, had noticed the personal references and promised to help me reshape my novel if I would allow him to. With hesitation, I nodded in agreement.
Brad insisted on a lite breakfast of eggs and bacon, which was easy for me to muster up. I made only enough for he and I as I figured that the kids would sleep a bit. Now adults; of course, but they would always be my "little" children. I was correct, as Ryan and Isabella creeped down the stairs around 9:30 AM and Liam 10. By the time they made it to the breakfast table, I had baked my favourite breakfast dish: blueberry souffle. The recipe had been handed down for years, and I was the third in the generational lineage to have a copy. I had yet to share my guarded secret with Isabella, as she had yet to pry it out of me. Now that she and Ryan were forming a special bond, I decided to go ahead and give her a handwritten copy that morning.
After Brad had eaten, he retreated back to the office to write. Despite the fact that this was a vacation, he was in the middle of a book and had recently hit a stride he did not want to waiver from. He explained he was in the character development phase, and needed to be constantly writing until these characters came to life.
As I thought about my own book, there was not much to my character. She was a lonely woman for most of her adult life. Perhaps there were too many immediately identifiable references to myself; but in a way, I wanted my story told. Brad took a break around 11:00 and insisted that I bring him up to date on my work. He retreated to a leather chair in the Florida room and read my entire novel to this point.
His suggestion was that I turn it into a memoir. He, too, had noticed the personal references and promised to help me reshape my novel if I would allow him to. With hesitation, I nodded in agreement.
The following morning, I heard Brad arise around 3:45 AM. For some reason, my internal time clock woke me up to pee at that time, so I had heard him scurry down the steps toward the Keurig. This was not an odd occasion for Brad, as he proclaimed to do his best work before daybreak.
I let him get settled into his chair. I could hear him moving things into place. A stapler, some pens, his cup of coffee and then the typewriter. It was an older model. The kind with the keys that strike the page with every keystroke. And the kind that you must push the carriage back to the other side to start a new line. I so much wanted to go and greet him, but I let the sounds of him working hypnotize me like a beautiful lullaby.
By 6:00 AM, I could stand it no longer. The sounds were intoxicating to the point of driving me crazy. I scurried down to the kitchen myself, and started my own cup of coffee. I had remembered from our conversations a few weeks before that Brad had enjoyed red grapefruit juice in the morning. I had purchased some red grapefruit at the Farmer's Market in anticipation of his arrival. I halved one, sprinkled brown sugar on it, and broiled it for about twenty seconds. I took another cup of coffee and some grapefruit up to "Brad's office".
He greeted me with a kiss even though I had yet to brush my teeth. Neither of us had; in fact, but at least some citrus and some roasted coffee beans had passed over our lips. He took a minute to bring me up to speed about where he was in his book and then asked me about mine. I was proudly able to tell him that I was eighty percent finished, but I wanted him to show me how to complete it that summer at Casa Amor.
He got up, and sat me down at "the machina". This was a new piece of equipment for me, and I was a little nervous. "How hard must I strike the keys", I wondered? Brad was kind enough to "show me the ropes". After getting me acquainted with "Charlotte"; his typewriter, he challenged me to write as fast as I could for fifteen minutes. Not on the topic of my book, but rather anything that came to mind. It was an exercise in allowing your brain to do the writing. I hammered out 2,000 words in fifteen minutes. We both laughed at one another, as I thought I had done horrible and Brad insisted that I was a "first-time professional".
We kissed some more, as we watched the sun creep over the horizon at Casa Amor, the first day.
I let him get settled into his chair. I could hear him moving things into place. A stapler, some pens, his cup of coffee and then the typewriter. It was an older model. The kind with the keys that strike the page with every keystroke. And the kind that you must push the carriage back to the other side to start a new line. I so much wanted to go and greet him, but I let the sounds of him working hypnotize me like a beautiful lullaby.
By 6:00 AM, I could stand it no longer. The sounds were intoxicating to the point of driving me crazy. I scurried down to the kitchen myself, and started my own cup of coffee. I had remembered from our conversations a few weeks before that Brad had enjoyed red grapefruit juice in the morning. I had purchased some red grapefruit at the Farmer's Market in anticipation of his arrival. I halved one, sprinkled brown sugar on it, and broiled it for about twenty seconds. I took another cup of coffee and some grapefruit up to "Brad's office".
He greeted me with a kiss even though I had yet to brush my teeth. Neither of us had; in fact, but at least some citrus and some roasted coffee beans had passed over our lips. He took a minute to bring me up to speed about where he was in his book and then asked me about mine. I was proudly able to tell him that I was eighty percent finished, but I wanted him to show me how to complete it that summer at Casa Amor.
He got up, and sat me down at "the machina". This was a new piece of equipment for me, and I was a little nervous. "How hard must I strike the keys", I wondered? Brad was kind enough to "show me the ropes". After getting me acquainted with "Charlotte"; his typewriter, he challenged me to write as fast as I could for fifteen minutes. Not on the topic of my book, but rather anything that came to mind. It was an exercise in allowing your brain to do the writing. I hammered out 2,000 words in fifteen minutes. We both laughed at one another, as I thought I had done horrible and Brad insisted that I was a "first-time professional".
We kissed some more, as we watched the sun creep over the horizon at Casa Amor, the first day.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
The next two days seemed to crawl.
But they did pass and at 5:55 PM on a Wednesday, Brad's plane touched down at San Diego airport. I waited impatiently at the gate to see him exit the plane and come up thru the hanger. He was smiling from ear to ear the moment he saw me and I had a small tear stream down my face. I could tell that there was something deep in the recesses of my body, mind and soul. "Was it finally L-O-V-E", I thought to myself?
Brad and I piled into the Suburban. He had not brought much in the way of luggage and I wondered why. Perhaps he was not being presumptuous, and perhaps he was being gentlemanly; but I had a moment of fear enter my heart as if he was hesitant about a long stay. In a second thought, I figured that he packed lite on purpose, and would buy what he needed per the stay. After all, he did carry a "Black" American Express card. Writing for a living had made him a small fortune. There was no doubt in this.
He unpacked when we arrived at Casa Amor. He was floored at the house itself. Much like myself, years ago, he gazed at it with astonishment and had a comment about every room. We had plenty of space for Ryan and Brad to have their own rooms; and at least for now, I insisted that Ryan ave his own. Yes; I know, Isabella and Ryan were moving in, but they were not married. In this, there were boundaries in my home. It would have been no different in Asheville, and I demanded it so here at Casa Amor.
After Brad settled in and took a shower, I showed him the room I had prepared with a desk for him. I had actually taken the time to buy a desk and remove the one; temporarily, that Silvio had in the house. My goal was to ship it to my home in Asheville at the end of the summer; hoping that Brad might follow. Plans, plans! But would they work?
But they did pass and at 5:55 PM on a Wednesday, Brad's plane touched down at San Diego airport. I waited impatiently at the gate to see him exit the plane and come up thru the hanger. He was smiling from ear to ear the moment he saw me and I had a small tear stream down my face. I could tell that there was something deep in the recesses of my body, mind and soul. "Was it finally L-O-V-E", I thought to myself?
Brad and I piled into the Suburban. He had not brought much in the way of luggage and I wondered why. Perhaps he was not being presumptuous, and perhaps he was being gentlemanly; but I had a moment of fear enter my heart as if he was hesitant about a long stay. In a second thought, I figured that he packed lite on purpose, and would buy what he needed per the stay. After all, he did carry a "Black" American Express card. Writing for a living had made him a small fortune. There was no doubt in this.
He unpacked when we arrived at Casa Amor. He was floored at the house itself. Much like myself, years ago, he gazed at it with astonishment and had a comment about every room. We had plenty of space for Ryan and Brad to have their own rooms; and at least for now, I insisted that Ryan ave his own. Yes; I know, Isabella and Ryan were moving in, but they were not married. In this, there were boundaries in my home. It would have been no different in Asheville, and I demanded it so here at Casa Amor.
After Brad settled in and took a shower, I showed him the room I had prepared with a desk for him. I had actually taken the time to buy a desk and remove the one; temporarily, that Silvio had in the house. My goal was to ship it to my home in Asheville at the end of the summer; hoping that Brad might follow. Plans, plans! But would they work?
After closing on the house, Ryan, Isabella and Liam drove to California. I had gone ahead of them, and Brad was flying in in a few days.
When I arrived first at Casa Amor, I was greeted by Silvio and his wife. As was the same many times, his bags were packed to go to Italy. With a check in hand, I paid him for the summer and he could exchange the funds for a few more Euros upon arriving in Europe. They were kind enough to again hand me the "keys to the castle" for a summer.
I took a short drive down to the beach and walked along the shoreline. Coronado Beach had been part of the oasis of my stays at Casa Amor, and better therapy than even Anne could provide. I had sought out a psychiatrist in California on the off chance that I spilled my medication down the drain. However, Anne was always good to give me a "vacation override", giving me 120 pills per prescription as opposed to the normal ninety.
While walking along the beach near the end of the evening, with the moon rising above slowly over the horizon, Isabella called my cell phone to let me know of their arrival. She was ecstatic when I returned home and made a waving motion and jingled her keys to represent the new home owner that she was.
Liam was still studying at the University of Minnesota, as his program would last another two years. He had decided to become a genetic counselor, and even had thoughts of medical school. I could not have been prouder of my son and daughter. They had grown up too fast, and I was growing older, faster, it seemed.
I longed to have Brad at Casa Amor. I had staged a desk near a window so he would have an appropriate place to write during his stay. He had explained in conversation that he enjoyed writing in the early morning; and by early, I mean 4:00 AM. His proficiency was better than even the late evening before bed. He was obviously productive on this schedule as his books always experienced rave reviews within the community of writers and had topped the best seller list on numerous occasions.
As I sat in his desk for a moment, I made the motions of me writing my own novel. I would have to try his typewriter, to see if it made me a better writer. He would be here in two days, and I longed for his arrival.
When I arrived first at Casa Amor, I was greeted by Silvio and his wife. As was the same many times, his bags were packed to go to Italy. With a check in hand, I paid him for the summer and he could exchange the funds for a few more Euros upon arriving in Europe. They were kind enough to again hand me the "keys to the castle" for a summer.
I took a short drive down to the beach and walked along the shoreline. Coronado Beach had been part of the oasis of my stays at Casa Amor, and better therapy than even Anne could provide. I had sought out a psychiatrist in California on the off chance that I spilled my medication down the drain. However, Anne was always good to give me a "vacation override", giving me 120 pills per prescription as opposed to the normal ninety.
While walking along the beach near the end of the evening, with the moon rising above slowly over the horizon, Isabella called my cell phone to let me know of their arrival. She was ecstatic when I returned home and made a waving motion and jingled her keys to represent the new home owner that she was.
Liam was still studying at the University of Minnesota, as his program would last another two years. He had decided to become a genetic counselor, and even had thoughts of medical school. I could not have been prouder of my son and daughter. They had grown up too fast, and I was growing older, faster, it seemed.
I longed to have Brad at Casa Amor. I had staged a desk near a window so he would have an appropriate place to write during his stay. He had explained in conversation that he enjoyed writing in the early morning; and by early, I mean 4:00 AM. His proficiency was better than even the late evening before bed. He was obviously productive on this schedule as his books always experienced rave reviews within the community of writers and had topped the best seller list on numerous occasions.
As I sat in his desk for a moment, I made the motions of me writing my own novel. I would have to try his typewriter, to see if it made me a better writer. He would be here in two days, and I longed for his arrival.
My weekend with Brad, Isabella and Ryan was great. I could see the companionship displayed between Ryan and Belle, and they shared with me that weekend that they planned to move in together soon. T. Rowe Price had a satellite office in Atlanta, Georgia; as did Seven Mile Advisors, so Belle and Ryan planned to both relocate and begin their partnership.
They were coming through Asheville en route to Atlanta the following week. Since Belle had the resources, she and Ryan had planned to buy a place within a reasonable distance to both of their workplaces. They would begin to build a relationship and a life together. While I was not fond of the idea of splitting a house without a marriage in place, times had changed and a house was just a commodity and an asset; that if something went awry, you will simply halve and sell your share, respectively. I cautioned Isabella to be careful, but she felt comfortable with the arrangement. She felt as if a proposal was "in the air" and with that, I gained some solace.
Brad had promised to visit me at Casa Amor. It was less than two weeks till I would leave for La Jolla and San Diego, two places in California that I had come to love. Casa Amor was my respite.
I traveled to Atlanta with Isabella that Monday. Ryan would join us on Wednesday after we found some places of interest. She had trusted Belle to find them a home. We looked in downtown and also within a fifteen mile radius to find the best deal. While there were many places to consider, Isabella fell in love with a rowhouse. It was close enough to each of their offices.
The price was steep in my opinion for a first home at $300,000, but Ryan was a veteran and qualified for a Veterans Administration loan at a very low interest rate with no private mortgage insurance and no down payment required. Payments with taxes would run $1385 per month, and easily affordable number compared to their respective salaries. Between the two of them, they were bringing in enough to cover the entire cost of the home in one year; before bonus.
When Ryan arrived on Wednesday, we looked at a number of properties. He also agreed that the rowhouse was not only the best deal for the money and area, but he fell in love with the house immediately as well. It would become their home in a few short days.
They were coming through Asheville en route to Atlanta the following week. Since Belle had the resources, she and Ryan had planned to buy a place within a reasonable distance to both of their workplaces. They would begin to build a relationship and a life together. While I was not fond of the idea of splitting a house without a marriage in place, times had changed and a house was just a commodity and an asset; that if something went awry, you will simply halve and sell your share, respectively. I cautioned Isabella to be careful, but she felt comfortable with the arrangement. She felt as if a proposal was "in the air" and with that, I gained some solace.
Brad had promised to visit me at Casa Amor. It was less than two weeks till I would leave for La Jolla and San Diego, two places in California that I had come to love. Casa Amor was my respite.
I traveled to Atlanta with Isabella that Monday. Ryan would join us on Wednesday after we found some places of interest. She had trusted Belle to find them a home. We looked in downtown and also within a fifteen mile radius to find the best deal. While there were many places to consider, Isabella fell in love with a rowhouse. It was close enough to each of their offices.
The price was steep in my opinion for a first home at $300,000, but Ryan was a veteran and qualified for a Veterans Administration loan at a very low interest rate with no private mortgage insurance and no down payment required. Payments with taxes would run $1385 per month, and easily affordable number compared to their respective salaries. Between the two of them, they were bringing in enough to cover the entire cost of the home in one year; before bonus.
When Ryan arrived on Wednesday, we looked at a number of properties. He also agreed that the rowhouse was not only the best deal for the money and area, but he fell in love with the house immediately as well. It would become their home in a few short days.
It was May now, and I was due for a visit to Baltimore. Brad and I had been taking on a regular basis and I wanted him to meet my daughter, Samantha. I also wanted to meet Ryan from Charlotte; as per our conversations, Samantha and he were forming quite the bond. I knew also that if I went to Baltimore that Brad would come and meet us there.
It was also only a few weeks before I would make the journey once again to Casa Amor. I would be there this summer for the last time in my sixties, as I was due to turn seventy. Samantha was due to turn thirty-three, and Liam twenty-nine. He had graduated from Middlebury and was now taking classes as a graduate student at the University of Minnesota in the biostatistics department.
I traveled to Baltimore on a Thursday. I would be there for the weekend. Brad agreed to meet us for dinner on Friday nite.
We met at Sullivan's Steakhouse in the Inner Harbor area of Baltimore close to the aquarium, other attractions and the financial district. I was not aware that Brad was such a fan of steak, as he even knew the gastronomy of the Roman Empire and when meats like steak were introduced to the Romans. I guess the didn't just lay around naked on chaise lounges and eat grapes after all!
The beauty of our meal that evening is that they had a PRIX FIXE option at just $42 that allowed us three courses that for sure made our mouths water before we started on the bread. Brad was no stranger to wine, but not quite at Brady's level. I would never let him know; and over time, he would grow into quite the connoisseur anyway. Since steak was definitely on the menu, Samantha and I started and stayed with Cabernet Sauvignons. First there was Frog's Leap, then Rombauer and for dinner, Shafer. A flight that no one with a taste of Napa would turn down.
We must have dined for four hours. The conversation was lite and refreshing. Ryan was interested in Brad's writing career and that alone was a ninety minute conversation piece. Samantha was happy to be happy, and even happier that I was happy.
Brad was a gentleman, and retreated to his hotel alone without even so much as an invitation. Tomorrow would be a much different story; however.
It was also only a few weeks before I would make the journey once again to Casa Amor. I would be there this summer for the last time in my sixties, as I was due to turn seventy. Samantha was due to turn thirty-three, and Liam twenty-nine. He had graduated from Middlebury and was now taking classes as a graduate student at the University of Minnesota in the biostatistics department.
I traveled to Baltimore on a Thursday. I would be there for the weekend. Brad agreed to meet us for dinner on Friday nite.
We met at Sullivan's Steakhouse in the Inner Harbor area of Baltimore close to the aquarium, other attractions and the financial district. I was not aware that Brad was such a fan of steak, as he even knew the gastronomy of the Roman Empire and when meats like steak were introduced to the Romans. I guess the didn't just lay around naked on chaise lounges and eat grapes after all!
The beauty of our meal that evening is that they had a PRIX FIXE option at just $42 that allowed us three courses that for sure made our mouths water before we started on the bread. Brad was no stranger to wine, but not quite at Brady's level. I would never let him know; and over time, he would grow into quite the connoisseur anyway. Since steak was definitely on the menu, Samantha and I started and stayed with Cabernet Sauvignons. First there was Frog's Leap, then Rombauer and for dinner, Shafer. A flight that no one with a taste of Napa would turn down.
We must have dined for four hours. The conversation was lite and refreshing. Ryan was interested in Brad's writing career and that alone was a ninety minute conversation piece. Samantha was happy to be happy, and even happier that I was happy.
Brad was a gentleman, and retreated to his hotel alone without even so much as an invitation. Tomorrow would be a much different story; however.
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