Winning Awards . . . and Not*

 

I’ve won a few awards. And here is what they’ve done for my book sales.

 

Nada.

 

Yes, winning awards is wonderful. I won two awards—back-to-back—at the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference in 2020, and I cried buckets, hugged lots, and posed for photos with make-up smeared all over my face. Those awards are now a prized part of my brag wall. So what did they do for my sales figures and ability to sell books to editors?

 

Nada.

 

Am I thrilled I’ve won? Of course, I am. I highly recommend contests of all ilk to writers. You can get astonishing sound feedback and winning does raise your profile in the industry.

 

But let’s manage the expectations. 

 

First, more books deserve awards than get them. That’s just a fact of life. Don’t despair or fall into the trap of thinking you’re not good enough if you did not get so much as a mention from a contest. One of my favorite authors wrote more than sixty books—and made a living as an author—before winning a major award. Another had thirty under her belt before any recognition came her way via an awards committee. You are not writing for an award. Follow your heart on this.

 

Second, remember that awards are not life changing. Nor will they usually boost your sales. Only a few national awards do that and winning those is akin to capturing lightning in a bottle. After the hoopla of a win dies down, get your rear back in that chair and keep typing. And marketing.

 

Finally, there are benefits to winning, but be prepared to work hard to manifest those outcomes. There are marketing angles you can pursue if you win…working with your publisher on a press release, adding notices to your website and social media pages. If you have a relationship with a local bookstore, let the manager know you’ve picked up an award. Those are the things that may eventually boost your sales—that and continuing to produce great books.

 

But the best advice I can give to winners is to be gracious. Don’t overdo the humility (that’s a little grating) but give simple and honest thanks and appreciation to those who congratulate you. You worked hard to get there…don’t pass it off as if this wasn’t an important part of your journey. It is, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t acknowledge it.

 

Don’t dwell on it, however. You’ve won. Excellent. Celebrate! Then move on to your next project. You still have work to do!

 

And if you were nominated but didn’t win…also make use of this recognition. Believe me, no one sees you as a “loser.” Instead, you wrote a fabulous book that caught readers’ attention with the quality of the story and the craft. The same with the books that received second or third place. Embrace the acclaim, spread it around a little, then move on.

 

But what if you didn’t even get a blink from an award committee? Again, be gracious. Send kind congratulations and celebrate with your fellow authors. These are your friends. They deserve your support and happiness for them. After all…as Jesse Owens once said, “Awards become corroded, friends gather no dust.”

 

Remember: awards lift all of us up in a way, reminding readers that we’re still here and still writing. And readers will watch to see how you react to your peers’ success. They care. 

 

The bottom line is that, as nice as they are, awards do not tell you who you are. Or who you aren’t. That message only comes from One Source…and it’s not an awards committee.

~~~

 

*Adapted from my book, Tracking Changes: One Editor's Advice to Inspirational Fiction Authors.

Goals and Intentions

So I didn't do very well on my reading goals, as posted on Goodreads. Because I had read so many books in 2020 and the first part of 2021, I set out with this lofty idea that I could read at least 50 books in 2021.

At least. 

After all, I'd read almost 70 in 2020. Fifty should be a breeze. 

But my intentions took a left turn to some unexpected goals. 

I signed a four-book contract. Then another for a novella. Then another for a fifth novel. And a sixth. 

It was something of a banner year for my writing career. In terms of the actual writing, I finished books 1 & 2, the novella, and book 5. I wrote part of book 3. All told, I've written about 350,000 words in 2021. Books 1, 2, and 5 were edited by the publishers and revised by me. I also worked as an editor for ISM as well as on several freelance projects. 

I've been a little busy. 

I also detoured from reading fiction into nonfiction, which slowed me down a lot. A lot of that reading was historical research, since books 1-4, the novella, and book 6 are historical romances for a secular publisher. (The novella is actually in the anthology on the right in the above screenshot.) New field, but one I love. But there was a lot of research and background to be covered.

These will be published under a new name, so as not to create confusion for my readers. As Ramona Richards, I will still write Christian suspense, and that's what book 5 is. I signed with Kregel for a sequel to Burying Daisy Doe. The Kregel team is remarkable, and I love working with them.  I'm thrilled with the story, and I am on tenterhooks until Circle of Vengeance releases in the fall.

So that was a bit of 2021. As for 2022, I obviously have lots of deadlines, but I also plan to read. And read. And read some more. Once again, I've posted my intention to read at least 50 books this year. 

I think setting lofty goals and intentions is a good thing. For me, it's like having a big dream. And, as they say, dream big, then make a plan to get there, and work like crazy to make it happen. 

Here's hoping ALL OUR DREAMS find a home in 2022.

No One Single Path

 

No matter what your chosen goal in life, you'll discover many paths lead in that direction.

Anyone who says otherwise is either lying or selling something. Probably both.

The path to success is unique to each individual because we are all unique--just as God created us to be. Yes, of course, there are common qualities that can help each of us toward our goals:

• Perseverance
• Commitment to growth and learning
• Seeking wisdom from mentors
• Struggles

 That last one often gives people pause because we too often buy into the myth that if we're doing everything "right," then our journeys should be relatively smooth. Yeah, there's a reason I call that a myth. 

Trials and tribulations can be of our own doing--but they can also come out of the blue. A car accident. An unexpected death. A long-expected child arrives disabled or with serious health problems. Or something as simple as exhaustion can lead to mistakes or mind-numbing disconnection.

We tend to push ourselves hard, more so than we realize. If we have negative voices in our lives that have become imprinted in our brains--"You're lazy; you'll never amount to anything; why are you even trying; get a real job and stop dreaming"--we can be driven to the point of collapse by trying to prove them wrong. 

When I talk to writers at conferences, I often remind them that I am ONE VOICE. Just like every other editor or mentor. I am not omnipotent, especially when it comes to their life path. My usual advice is for them to listen to many, then decide what works for them and pursue that with all the perseverance they can muster. 

Like any other profession, it usually takes YEARS to become a published author with any name recognition. Anything else is lightning in a bottle--to be admired and appreciated but not imitated. Think about it: how long does it take to be a successful lawyer or doctor? Engineer? Years of schooling (think conferences, classes, and mentors), plus apprenticeships (internships) and guidance from those who came before. 

For some reason, people think writing is easy...everyone can write a book. But writing is HARD WORK. And writing well takes time and lots of hours of practice--and failure.

I've written a few books. About 13 of those have been published, plus one novella. I have four more novels and another novella under contract. I've contributed to more than 20 others. I've written devotions for websites and magazines. I've had magazine articles and short stories published.   

But one of those novels took a DECADE to find a publisher. I also have 6 complete and unpublished novels and more than 350 rejections in my files. I still hear "No!" from my agent. 

Sometimes the writing is easy; in May 2020 I wrote a 100,00o-word novel in just over a month--which still hasn't sold. But these last three months, I have struggled to complete a novel that SHOULD have been easy to write. Only it wasn't. I missed my first deadline, then my extended one. My editor has been a gem, even as she struggled with her own issues, encouraging me, guiding me, and pushing me. I could not have made it through without her. 

It's done, but I'm exhausted, mentally and creatively. Prone to tears at the drop of a hat, mostly from relief these days. 

Seriously, anyone who thinks writing and editing a book is easy has never done it. Admittedly, sometimes the endeavor goes well. Most of the time...no. 

Why do I do it? Because I can't NOT write. I've tried to quit a couple of times, but I get itchy and grouchy, and even my friends send me back to the computer. 

So in whatever endeavor you are involved, remember that struggling isn't failure. It's just a stepping stone to the next success.

 

It's a Long and Bumpy Ride

The words came into my head as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud.

“Daughter, why are you fighting Me on this?”

I was about to step out into the garage to weigh (don’t ask, there’s no reason why the scale is in the garage … it just never made it inside after the move), and I almost stumbled. It was a wake-up call.

Now if I could just figure out what it means.

I should probably mention that I’ve been struggling to decide whether to keep writing.

January through May of this year were great months for me, in terms of writing. The pandemic affected me not at all. In January I had already transitioned to working from home, part time. I was balancing the cut in funds, had picked up a great freelance job, and was writing like crazy. I joined a gym and was exercising; I lost weight. Even after the shutdown, I tried to keep that going here at the house.

Inspired by an idea that had been in the works for almost a year, I wrote an entire book in May, including having it edited by a pro. It would be a change for me, more sensual and no faith element, but I had a pseudonym picked and a marketing plan. I could do this, if it actually sold. I worked out the idea for a Christian suspense series, was working on some short stories for the mainstream market, and my editor on Murder in the Family asked for a sequel.

Then the bottom fell out.

The day job became overwhelming. Projects were getting behind and piling up. Our copyeditor quit, and I took on much of her role as well as mine.

I tried, but I couldn’t write. No words came. I froze. I prayed. I tried to listen. Nada. Silence settled in all around and in me. And that’s when the depression hit.

I recognized it, of course. Not immediately. They tend to be sneaky little suckers. But the first unexpected crying spell was a light bulb moment.

I’ve had bad years before. 2016 was one of the worst. I’d lost my mom in November 2014, then my daughter Rachel in February 2016. The depression that followed her death left me devastated. I couldn’t work or write; I did good to get out of bed. I played more than ten thousand games of solitaire (seriously). I went through all of my savings, including the money from my mother’s estate.

So I’m familiar with bad. And frozen. But this felt like an epic split between desire (wanting to expand my writing) and a familiar confinement (Christian fiction). Between wanting to finally let my voice grow into its natural setting … and the “shoulds” of the world I’ve made my career in. I’m 63—I’m tired of doing only the “shoulds!” I don’t want to get to the end of my life and be left with only the “what ifs.”

It felt a little like I was throwing a two-year-old’s temper tantrum.

It’s no wonder I dropped into a depression. One I’m still fighting.

Then the publisher for Burying Daisy Doe sent word that they’d hired a publicist who I’ve known almost my entire career. She’s brilliant and a friend. And I cried like I’d been shot. It was a light at the end of the tunnel. Or at least a glimmer of daylight.

I still can’t write. I’m trying. I’m working on outlines and synopses instead. Short pieces to keep my brain going. But I still can’t write fiction; still struggling to focus on a novel. And I still want to quit. Even knowing what happens to me when I don’t write. (You think this depression is bad …)

Then came the message out of the blue, when I wasn’t even paying attention. And I’m trying to focus on those words: “Daughter, why are you fighting Me on this?”

Don’t have a clue what they mean, except that He’s still in control. So I’m trying to cling to the trust. 

It is one amazing and bumpy ride. And it ain’t over yet.

Always a thrill...

I've been doing this for forty years.

And there's not a single stage of the process of working on my own book that doesn't thrill me. Some of the stages are tiring and tedious, but I never fail to get a jolt when I see an email from my publisher with an attachment.

We are starting to proofing stage of Burying Daisy Doe (Kregel, November 17, 2020), so I got to see the layout for the first time.

My words in print.

I seriously don't want to do anything else except work with words, make them sing--and help others make them sing as well.

I love the journey.

We Have Winners!

Below are the winners from the author interviews I've posted on the blog over the past few months. 

I have contact info for Kay, Maryann, and Susan. Pam and Cathy, can you reach out to me via PM, please, and I'll get you in touch with your authors.

Congratulations! I hope you enjoy the books.
--------------
Barbara Cameron, Summer's Promise 
Kay Garrett

Kelly Irvin, Mountains of Grace 
Maryann
 

Kelly Irvin, Over the Line 

Susan Campbell

Danica Favorite, The Cowboy's Faith
Pam Hamblin

Leigh Ann Thomas, Smack-Dab in the Midlife Zone 
Cathy Baker

Why I Don't Halloween

 I always loved Halloween. I started trick-or-treating with my family when I was six (I was a ghost under a pillow case). 

My first “real” mask was Cleopatra, which I wore with black, and it was hot and nasty and tremendous fun. I kept up the tradition until I was 14. 

The shot of me on the fireplace is my last outfit. Yes, that’s a tribble hanging around my neck. My cat (a real one) went with me, and people would call Grandma outta the den to come look at the black kitty. 

 

This affection for dressing up continued in college; my roommate and I donned costumes for every Halloween, and we both branched out into theater and other modes of showing off. Obviously, the cat theme continued, as did the fondness for Halloween. The goth picture is from a cemetery tour I went on.

 

Rachel, too, loved Halloween and dressing up. Phyllis was a huge Halloween fan, and dressed Rachel in the most outstanding costumes. Here is Rachel as  Dorothy and her and her wheelchair as Sandy in Grease.

We decorated her chair, and the teachers at her school couldn’t wait to see what she’d look like when she got off the bus. In the evening, Phyllis took her trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, and I handed candy out to the kids. And a good time was had by all.

Then Rachel was gone. 

The first year, I lived where there weren’t many children, so it was a silent night. The next year, I was in an apartment in Birmingham—lots of kids—and I stocked up on candy. 

But with every knock on the door, it became harder and harder to celebrate. I didn’t think it would be, but the memories, though cherished and precious, changed it.

And that’s OK. Things do change. Most of life does.

My new Halloween tradition is to go to the movies. And I’m kinda enjoying that.

But don’t be surprised if you see me in costume some time, maybe even on the stage.

Some things DON’T change.

Happy Halloween, y’all.

Murder in the Family - Before the Book

Murder in the Family opens with Molly McClelland arriving back in Alabama after inheriting her hoarder aunt's house. But a lot of the tension in the book is based on what she left behind in Missouri. 

The following scene was the original opening of the book, but I deleted it in order to get into the primary story faster. But if you're curious, here's the chaos that Molly was called away from, setting the scene to one of the biggest heartbreaks in the novel. If you've read Murder in the Family, I hope you enjoy this. If you haven't (and why not???), I hope it intrigues you enough to check out the novel. 

Murder in the Family

Before the Book

Sideways rain cast a blinding sheen across the windshield. The wind that drove it rocked the Ford Explorer as if it were a cradle. Its ancient joints squawked in protest, almost matching the jarring ringtone of Molly McClelland’s cell phone.

“You gonna answer that?” Jimmy Catron braked hard. The SUV fishtailed on the rain-slick country road and slid to a halt.

Molly jumped as a blast of lightening lit up the inside of her Explorer and charged the air of the Missouri plain. She lowered her camera and glared at her driver. A crack of thunder almost drowned out her reply. “We’re too close, Jimmy. I don’t want to talk on the phone.”

“Want me to get—”

“I want you to drive! It’s about to get rough.”

“It’s already rough! I can’t drive in this! There’s junk all over the road, and I can’t even see past the hood!”

Sarah peeked over the back seat. “Could be important. This is the fourth time they’ve called in the last half hour.”

“Everyone who’s important is right here.”

A thin, pale arm snaked between the seats, and Sarah Jenkins snatched Molly’s phone off the console. “It’s Russell Williams.”

“I don’t know a Russell Williams. He can leave a message. Sarah, aren’t you supposed to be watching this thing on radar?”

“I am. It’s not—oh, wait!”

Molly’s cell phone flew out of the back seat, bounced off the console, hit Molly’s knee, and landed in one of the camera bags at her feet. “Ouch! Sarah!”

“There’s a hook! A good one!”

Adrenaline surged through Molly as she and Jimmy peered through the rain-drenched windows, scanning the dark and roiling clouds for any sign of rotation. “Where?”

From the backseat came a furious clicking of computer keys. “Um . . . it’s . . . latitude . . . oh!” Sarah’s arm shot between the seats again, pointing straight ahead of them. “Take the next right. Should be County Road 64.”

With a long sigh, Jimmy Catron stepped on the accelerator and slung the sturdy, hail-beaten SUV into the turn, pushing them north across a wide expanse of farm fields. A hard blast of west-to-east wind caught them as he did, and the muscles in his wiry arms tightened as he struggled to keep the vehicle on the road. His dark hair flopped down over his forehead, and he jerked his head to throw it back.

Pea-sized hail pinged off the Explorer and sideways torrents of rain continued to slash at them. In fields on either side, young corn stalks bent double, and miniature soybean plants undulated and thrashed like a wild green sea. Then, through the deluge, Molly spotted what they had come to find and pounded the dash.

“There! There! Eleven o’clock. Sarah, text the station. We should be ready to start streaming soon. It’s falling right out of the sky. Here.” She handed the still camera over the back seat to Sarah, then dug her video camera out of the bag between her feet. “Get us as close as you can.”

Jimmy Catron pushed the SUV toward the storm cell, leaving the road to cross through a bare field, the Explorer bouncing and jerking over rain-sodden clumps and furrows. He skidded it to a stop as the rain and hail suddenly vanished. “I think this is it. There she blows.”

They all stared. A silvery white finger of clouds snaked out of the sky, wispy at first, then filling out the funnel shape with a solid grayish white. Its tip poked into the ground with a roar of a swirling vortex, and the air around them turned yellowish, then green.

“Touchdown!” screamed Sarah. She banged on the back of Jimmy’s seat as she and Molly scrambled out of the Explorer. Molly stumbled over loose clods of mud, but her boots held fast. She kept her balance and focused the camera. The air smelled like ozone and soaked earth, a scent that exhilarated her. She aimed at the funnel, zooming in on the tip, which swelled as the spinning cloud stirred up debris, slinging it around in an ever-growing skirt around the base. She followed the funnel up into the dark clouds, where the top of it hooked onto the mother storm. “Come to me, my beauty,” she murmured, as if she were whispering to a lover.

Beside her, Sarah shot rapidly, pausing occasionally to wipe dust and moisture from the clear filter covering the lens. “This is awesome!” she screamed into the wind, bouncing up and down before refocusing her camera.

Molly fell silent, aware that the television station in St. Joseph may have picked up her feed from the video camera by now. She zoomed in on the funnel and held her breath as the base of the tornado widened and grew fatter with dirt and debris. Her t-shirt and shorts fluttered hard against her, and her short mass of thick curls eddied and whipped about in the driving wind, barely held in place by a wide headband. Her skin stung from the wind-driven bits of grain and earth, and adrenaline sang in her blood.

The roar of the funnel drowned out almost all other sounds, and Molly realized it was going to broadside a shed she could barely see at the edge of her viewfinder. She waved one arm to get Sarah’s attention, then pointed toward the shed. They both caught the moment the base of the tornado crossed over, splintering the small building, boards scattering into the wind like dandelion fluff. The tin roof soared upward, caught up in the swirling maelstrom.

Over the roar, Molly barely heard the Explorer horn beeping rapidly. She turned to see Jimmy get out, motioning frantically. Molly, unable to hear, squinted at him, trying to read his lips. He pointed at the top of the storm and repeated himself. This time, she got it.

“It’s shifting!”

Twisting, she looked back at the storm without the camera in front of her. Magenta, purple, and gold lightening danced throughout the cell, and Molly realized the temperature had dropped again. She traced the storm down to the ground, watching the tip dance more to the southeast.

Southeast. Toward us. The tip, digging into the earth and churning up even more wreckage, had definitely turned in their direction. As she watched, the funnel fattened and broadened into the shape of an elephant’s trunk.

“We need to get out of here!” Jimmy grabbed her arm.

She nodded. “Get back to the truck!” She thrust the camera into his hands, and turned toward Sarah. “Sarah!” 

Sarah glanced at her, then kept shooting madly, fully enchanted by the storm. The winds whipped her tank top and shorts tight against her petite frame, and her blonde ponytail stood out almost perpendicular to her head.

The debris escalated suddenly, slicing about in crazy devilish swirls. The roar of the storm had deepened to the thunderous roar of a jet engine, and the hail returned, dime-sized balls that pelted their heads and skin. Molly ran toward Sarah, a slow motion jog against the wind. She snagged the younger woman’s arm. “Now, Sarah! We need to—”

Sarah pushed her away at first, then froze, her eyes widening, her attention on something behind Molly.

Molly had no time to turn. Something hard and flat slammed into her from behind. She and Sarah both hit the ground. Molly, dazed, pushed up on her hands and knees as she heard the SUV grind into the dirt next to them, creating a temporary windbreak. She looked around at Sarah, as Jimmy dropped to her side.

“You okay?” he screamed. Molly nodded and pointed at Sarah. Jimmy crawled to her and froze for a second, all color leaving his face. Then he moved rapidly, screaming at Molly. “You drive! Move!” He scooped Sarah up, holding her close to his chest. Only then did Molly see the blood on Sarah’s face, the spray of it down her chest.

“Oh, Lord, please, no!”

“Molly! Move! Get the back door!” Jimmy sprinted for the SUV.

 Molly grabbed Sarah’s camera and followed, adrenaline forcing all grogginess from her head. She opened the back door, and Jimmy shoved in with Sarah, pushing equipment from the seat onto the floor. Molly tossed the camera into the front and got behind the wheel. She did a donut in the field, heading away from the storm.

Pushing the accelerator hard, she glanced in the rearview mirror. “Jimmy?”

He shook his head, not looking up from Sarah’s face. “Drive, Molly. It’s bad.”

She drove, but reached over, pulling her camera bag out of the floor. She scratched around in it till she found her phone. Russell Williams had called again. His name shown like a beacon on the phone. Molly ignored it and called 911.

Her GPS got them to a crossroads far away from the storm cell, where the helicopter met them. Jimmy had done as much as he could to staunch the blood flow from Sarah’s face and head, but she remained unconscious. Several of her wounds still oozed puddles of blood that smeared through her hair and over Jimmy’s clothes, filling the SUV with its unmistakable metallic smell.

The EMTs were waiting as Molly screeched the Explorer to a stop. They clustered around, helping ease Sarah from the backseat and onto a gurney. Only then did Molly get a good look at the grayish, slashed face of her friend. Fear deepened within her, making her ache and tremble.

His voice shaking, Jimmy had explained that a large board had hit both of them, but the end that clipped Sarah had nails in it. Molly would have bruises; Sarah had puncture wounds, some of them deep. One, possibly, into her brain. The EMTs raced back to the helicopter with the gurney, motioning that one of them could go. She pushed Jimmy toward the helicopter, and he didn’t hesitate. He pulled up in beside the EMTs, as one slid the door shut.

Backing up, Molly watched the rotors spin faster, and the airborne ambulance lifted off slowly, then gained speed rapidly as it turned and headed for St. Joseph. As it disappeared into the distance, Molly felt the last ounce of energy seep out her. She sagged heavily against the side of the Explorer.

So close! They’d been standing next to each other! A single board had hit both of them. Yet here she stood, bruised, while Sarah had been critically injured. The thought that Sarah could die seized through Molly like an electric shock. Her knees gave way, and every muscle quivered as the adrenaline drained from her. She sank down in the dirt, sobs heaving out of her. The words that jerked from her weren’t a prayer; she begged. “Please, Lord, save her. Please.”

Through the open door of the Explorer, Molly could hear the sound that had plagued them all morning. Her cell phone rang again. 

-------------
Murder in the Family is now available at Amazon. 

Author, Center Stage: Kelly Irvin, Mountains of Grace

Kelly Irvin is back! This time she has given us a delightful romance set in an Amish community in Big Sky Country. And she's offering a print copy to one of the readers who comment below.

Let’s start with a description of Mountains of Grace. 
-----
Mercy is content with her life as an Amish schoolteacher. But when wildfires threaten her Montana home, everything she thought she knew turns upside down.

Mercy Yoder loves her students and her life in the tiny village of West Kootenai, nestled at the foot of Montana’s most northern mountains. And she is in no rush to get married . . . much to the disappointment of her parents. In fact, she has turned down the one marriage proposal she’s received. Her beau Caleb can’t bring himself to tell her he loves her, stoking her fears that they simply aren’t right for each other.

When a devastating wildfire threatens to destroy her beloved community, Mercy and her family evacuate to the nearby town of Eureka. There she meets Spencer McDonald, an Englisch smoke jumper. Her conversations with him are unlike any she’s ever had with a man. She finds his directness and ability to express his feelings refreshing and completely different from Caleb, who is tightlipped about his past.

But what would her family and community say if Mercy chose a relationship with an Englischer? Is Mercy willing to give up all she has known and loved for someone who finally understands her? Or can Mercy find the love she has always longed for closer to home?
-----
What was the inspiration for this story/what led you to write it?
I regularly read The Budget Newspaper, which is field with reports from Amish “scribes” from Amish communities across the nation. In 2017 a scribe from West Kootenai, Montana, reported on the impact of the wildfires on this tiny community near the U.S.-Canada border. I started researching the fires and found a Youtube video interview with an Amish man whose family lost their home. Another video featured an English homeowner who was rebuilding with the help of the community, including the Amish families. I found it so interesting and heartwarming who the community came together to rebuild regardless of their differences. I wanted to share these stories—albeit fictionally—with readers.

What draws you to continue your stories of the Amish?
A lot of it has to do with the readers. They are thirsty for clean, sweet romances. I have fun writing them. For the Amish of Big Sky Country my husband and I spent a week driving around Northwest Montana visiting Amish communities and doing research. I was able to talk to an Amish family from Indiana visiting a cousin in the Libby community. I found their perspectives fascinating. I never thought I would write Amish romances, but I’m glad I do.

Books about the Amish and their lifestyle choices continue to be extremely popular with readers, but not all of them accurately portray the culture. What one assumption about the Amish communities would you like to disprove?
Readers will react to something in a book they’ve read, saying the Amish don’t do that. You can’t generalize because there is no central church making the rules. Each district votes on its on set of rules called the Ordnung. Those rules can change by vote of the membership. For example, they can decide to have phones in their businesses or ride bicycles with rubber tires or change the style of prayer covering or kapp the women wear. There’s a community in Kansas that uses tractors and often rides them into town as transportation. I read recently about a community in Ohio that allows electricity in the homes. The third book in the Amish of Sky Country, entitled Peace in the Valley, features the Eagle Valley Amish Community, which is charismatic and evangelical. They dance and sing to instruments during their service, which is conducted in a church building. They have bible study, drive cars, and wear regular clothes, yet consider themselves Amish.

In what way does your faith encourage your writing?
I feel as if God gave me a talent for writing and expects me to use it for his glory. It took me a long time to recognize this. Everyone has a job to do in the mission field and mine is writing stories that make readers think about what they believe and why. It certainly makes me examine my own beliefs. The next two books in the Amish of Sky Country particularly ask questions about what Christians believe and how important is the way we worship. Do the rituals matter to God?

If Mercy were your best friend in real life, what advice about relationships would you want to share with her? How would you advise her regarding her growing affection for Spencer?
To go slowly. To examine her feelings carefully.Why would Mountains of Grace make the perfect pleasure read for late summer or early fall?The story begins Labor Day weekend in beautiful Montana. It’s not the typical Amish romance in the sense that readers will see the events through the prospective of five characters, including an English sheriff’s deputy, a smoke jumper, a young English woman trying to come to gripes with a traumatic experience in her past, an Amish carpenter, and Mercy, an Amish schoolteacher. It’s a story of community and how they come together in the face of natural disaster. Readers can enjoy not one but three romances.

What’s your next book?
I have a novella, Kisses and Cakes, that is included in the novella collection, An Amish Christmas Bakery, that debuts October 1, followed by the second book in the Montana series, The Long Bridge Home, which releases February 11, 2020.

Where can readers find you online?
www.kellyirvin.com
https://www.facebook.com/Kelly.Irvin.Author/
@Kelly_S_Irvin

Where can readers find Mountains of Grace?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0310356695

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KDZX4ZC

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mountains-of-grace-kelly-irvin/1129853440

https://www.christianbook.com/mountains-of-grace-kelly-irvin/9780310356691/pd/356691

https://www.booksamillion.com/search?id=7612317829956&query=Mountains+of+Grace&filter=

Best-selling author Kelly Irvin is the author of Mountains of Grace, the first book in the Amish of Sky Country series. Her other works include the Every Amish Season series from Zondervan/ HarperCollins, including Upon a Spring Breeze, winner of the Readers’ Choice Award in the long romance category. The series follows the Amish of Bee County Series, which included The Beekeeper’s Son, subject of a starred review from Publisher’s Weekly, calling it “an intricately woven masterpiece.” Among her other works are novellas in five collections. She is also the author of the Bliss Creek Amish series and the New Hope Amish series, both from Harvest House Publishing. She has also penned four romantic suspense novels, Over the Line, Tell Her No Lies, A Deadly Wilderness, and No Child of Mine.

Kelly’s novels, The Beekeeper’s Son and Love Redeemed, were finalists in the contemporary romance category of the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) national Carol Awards Contest.

Author, Center Stage: Barbara Cameron, Summer's Promise

Today I'm thrilled to welcome Barbara Cameron to my Author, Center Stage series. I first got to know Barbara and her work at Abingdon Press, and it's been a joy to work with her. Barbara has graciously offered TWO signed copies of the book to readers of this blog. Comment below for a chance to win one! Let's start with a description of her new book, Summer's Promise.

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Can she leave everything she knows for love?

Summer Carson has lived near the Amish community in Paradise, Pennsylvania, all her life. Now she's following in her father's footsteps and earning her degree in agricultural science so she can continue his work helping local farmers.In her job at the county extension office, Summer moves between the Englisch and the Amish worlds.

While she sometimes finds herself speaking—and even thinking—in Pennsylvania Deitsch, the transition isn't always easy. But what has come naturally to Summer is her attraction to one of the farmers: Abram Yoder is handsome, steady, and hardworking. He's everything so many of the Englisch men she knows are not. And Summer quickly realizes that she's caught his eye as well.

Can Summer give up the comforts she's always known for a life with this Amish man? And is Abram willing to let her try?

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Sounds terrific! What was the inspiration for this story/what led you to write it?

The Amish and the Englisch interact in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania,, more than they do in  other areas of the country because of the large amount of tourism the area gets. I wanted to explore what happens when a member of each community meets and falls in love. I also wanted to explore what happens when a grown child sees a parent decline in health and has to deal with it. 

What draws you to the Amish?

I’ve been fascinated by the Amish since I saw a buggy roll past by uncle’s farm in Indiana. I was a child and I was so curious about these people who led such a different life from mine.

Books about the Amish and their lifestyle choices continue to be extremely popular with readers, but not all of them accurately portray the culture. What one assumption about the Amish communities would you like to disprove?

Some people view them as odd because they live a harder life than we do—they wonder why the Amish do without electricity which could make things easier. They can’t imagine how anyone can live without things like television.  But the Amish not only don’t mind hard work they embrace it. And their family and community bonds are so much closer than ours because they help each other with work and I feel they communicate so much more than we do because they’re not sitting in front of a television.

In what way does your faith encourage your writing?

My faith keeps me going. Writing isn’t easy even when you’ve been doing it as long as I have. I do believe God put several people in my path to encourage an early interest in writing—an English teacher I had for all four years of high school and a cantankerous but incredibly inspiring city newspaper editor. And my parents took me to church and fostered my religious beliefs. Then the time came when I felt inspired by the way the Amish live their faith every day—not just go to church on Sunday and leave it there. I wanted to write about them and definitely feel God laid a path for me to get published in inspirational fiction. Now I feel writing and faith have become entwined in my life from all these people and events.

If Summer were your best friend in real life, what advice about relationships would you want to share with her? How would you advise her regarding her growing affection for Abram? If you were Abram’s friend and knew his secrets, how would you encourage him regarding Summer? How would your advice differ from that of his best friend in the book?

I really grew to love Summer as a character because she cared so much about her family. But if she were my real life friend I would encourage her to slow down and smell the roses more. She works too hard and worries so much about her mother. I’d tell her she needs to believe she deserves to have a future with Abram. As for Abram, I’d encourage him to talk with Summer more about taking the next step but without giving away the plot I like how he handles the challenge their love faces. I’m not sure he needs my help very much! 

Would Summer’s Promise make the perfect pleasure read for late summer or early fall?

Both! And for Christmas, too, to see how the Amish and Englisch celebrate this the holiday.

What’s your next book?

Thanks for asking! I’ve signed a contract with a new publisher and will be doing a three book series, details to be announced! It’s Amish, of course!

Where can readers find you online?

I’m on Facebook and have a website, BarbaraCameron.com 

And where can they buy Summer’s Promise?

It’s available anywhere books are sold, including these:

https://kregel.christianbook.com/summers-promise-harvest-of-hope/barbara-cameron/9781683700593/pd/700594

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/summers-promise-barbara-cameron/1129722746#/

https://www.amazon.com/Summers-Promise-Harvest-Barbara-Cameron/dp/1683700597

Barbara Cameron, who makes her home in Florida, is the author of five Amish series, four titles for Harlequin and Silhouette, three novella collections, and has sold three movies to HBO-Cinemax. She’s also the author of nonfiction titles on subjects as diverse as wedding budget planning, home decorating, and Robert’s Rules of Order. She’s been on both the American Bookseller Association (ABA) and the Christian Bookseller Association (CBA) bestseller lists and won the first Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award.