arlypineo

EBOOK MAKES DEBUT

2011-10-31T13:12:00.000-07:00

I'm over the moon! My ebook CHEAT THE WIND will be available in 2-3 days as of this date. Thanks to Sharon Owen for her valuable help.

arlypineo

2011-10-28T12:50:00.000-07:00

arlypineo: feel

2011-09-14T12:58:00.000-07:00

I've just begun a new novel, a continuation of the Drummer family's story, now on a new generation which takes place during the Civil War when the twins, Wren and Will become enbroiled in opposite sides. Historical figures, such as General Winfield Scott, Rose O'Neal Greenhow, a Confederate spy and Allen Pinkerton of the famed Pinkerton Detective Agency take on major roles.

A story within an old hotel

2011-06-14T13:32:00.000-07:00

Last week we returned from Colorado Springs after visiting our daughter and her husband where we stayed at the lovely Cheyenne Mountain resort. Traveling there we found the Eklund Hotel in Clayton, New Mexico.

I couldn't remember the name of the hotel or the town or whether it was in Texas or New Mexico, but I had stopped there once on the way to a writer's retreat for lunch and the lengends surrounding this historic place remained with me. It turned out a truck driver we spoke to at a rest stop asked another driver about it and we found it!

The Eklund hotel had just reopened after a major renovation. We were given a room on the second floor overlooking the main street, except Clayton looks like a ghost town.
And the Eklund hotel has its own ghost, a woman in a long flowing dress who hangs out on the 3rd floor in a room over ours. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see this spirit. The next morning when checking out I told the desk clerk I was disappointed. "Don't be," he said. "You ought to sit behind this counter all night when every groan and creak and rattle is magnified."

It was then I noticed the rosary in old gold frame and read the printed caption. The rosary had been found embedded inside a plastered wall during the recent renovation on the 3rd floor with the cross dated 1835. Fascinating. Was it meant to be a blessing or had the mysterious ghost left it as a claim she'd really been there?

Excerpt from CHEAT THE WIND, Chapter 1, page 7

2011-01-31T12:02:00.000-08:00

The seaside city of Portsmith was stripped of color. Whitewashed brick stained with soot and blackened slate shingled buildings lined the cobblestone lace facing the waterfront. Jack slowed his mount at the head of Wellington Street where the livery stable's sign Potter & Sons swung in the wind.

He dismounted the chestnut mare as one of the stable boys came to take the reins. "Will yu be wanting Gracie aain tomorrow, Captain?"

"No, young Jacobe. I cannot miss my tide. Here's a penny foryour help, lad. I'm going to the inn and sleep before I sail."

After a miserable ride of six miles through the blinding rain, Jack, numb wih cold ached for the comfort of a war bath. The Fox & Field ownd by a sprigtly north country matron, Mrs. Gould, served up decent mutton, or would, that is, if he got there in time. He quickened his steps, eager to resume his life at sea and the lessening of his grief.

"Ah, it's the young cap'n," greeted the innkeeper in the entryway, Brass hooks along the paneled walls overflowed with hats, cloaks and greatcoats, giving off the musty smell of wet wool. Male voices, some strident and others boasting, came from behing the closed tavern door to the right. "Bless my soul, I've a full house tonight. Pop into the public room and have yerself a pint whilst I send a girl to lay your fire. Shall I send your supper along as well?" She bobbed a curtsey,

"Yes. After my bath. I'm not in th mood for the pub, Mrs. Gould." Jack's fatigue increased as his hostess hovered near. "I'm chiled to my very bones."

"let me take your cloak, sir. We've water heating for your bath. Expecting you, we was. I sez to Fanny, 'Surely the gentleman is wanting his soak, I sez.'"

"Thank you, Madam. Kind of you. Send up a whiskey, too. I need fou hours of sleep so don't desturb me after supper."

As Jack climbed the staircase, Mrs. Gould hung his cloak. As she did, the inn's door flew open with a blast of frigid air. A slender woman, holding a black umbrella and carrying a stout valise, stood on the threshold. Water dripped from her crimson cape and matching high-crowned hat adorned with white egret feathers, She sneezed violently.

"I am Miss Whing. Seraphim Whing. I understand Captain Dupree keeps a room here when he's not at sea." She blew her nose on a lace hndkerchief and tucked it in her sleeve. "It's urgent I speak with him." She put down her portmanteau.

Mrs. Gould found herself tongue-tied befor she recovered her dignity. "The poor gentleman's caught a chill and won't be disturbed, Miss ...?"

"Miss Whing. W-H-I-N-G." She drew out her handkercief again and sneezed.

"Miss Whing, this is bothersome. I'm really not sure I, ...Are you poorly?" Shutting the door, Mrs. Gould studied the shivering woman. Wisps of red-gold hair clung to an oval face. She wore silver-rimmed spectacles. Her chin trembled as she half-smiled and shook droplets from the umbrella.

Who was she really? Mrs. Gould had never seen the Cap'n in the company of females ...not that he didn't attract the ladies' attention. Their hungry eyes followed him, but he seemed unaware of his fine looks.

CHEAT THE WND

2011-01-26T11:51:00.000-08:00

While pawing through a few old manuscripts, I found CHEATING THE WIND, which won 1st place for Historical Romance at the Oklahoma Federation of Writers Inc more than 10 years ago. I mistakenly assumed the award would interest an agent or better yet, a publisher.

It did interest Agnes Birnbaum of Bleecker Street Assocates, except according to this agent the novel did not fit the genre. The hero and heroine are separated for most of the book while each one survives a harrowing sea story ending with the Opium Wars in the 1840's. Birnbaum turned the ms down.

Reassessing this storyline makes me realize what I may have is a cross-genre. Is it an adventure/romance or a historical something else. While tying to figure out what it is, I've read a chapter to the Trinity Writers Workshop. I will post an excerpt on this blog in the coming days.

A submission at last!

2011-01-14T11:58:00.000-08:00

After a week and a half of re-formating my ms RUSH TO JUDGMENT to email a publisher, I finally succeded in sending it this morning. Long files raise problems I didn't know existed ...like the wrong move with the mouse sends the entire contents back to page 1. In this case, one of their requirement: no page numbers. I sat with a finger on the PgDn tab for seven days, trying to find my place.
Luckily, I hit the keyboard early this morning which helped. This ms is 96,000 words. Hands stiff.

Excerpt from RUSH TO JUDGMENT

2011-01-01T12:31:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER ONE
The wind howls down Raintree Inn's chimneys with the smell of ashes from long ago. Shutters rattles like a drumroll. An ominence presence akin to dread has a foothold in Oconee County. Jesse never minded summer storms but this one is different. Th sky turns the color of pewter as a deluge of rain curtains rural Georgia in a surreal world. From the foggy glass window glass to the widw plank floor, the antebellum manor shudders in the visious onslaught.

Fearful of the category five hurricane Katrina people from the coastal areas of Louisiana and Mississipp head inland for shelter. It's inevitable; Raintree Inn is booked solid. Still, the phone rang all morning with pleas from local authorities to take on dditional guests.

The kitchen television broadcasts the local news, then the weatherman follows. "Labor Day Weekend's forecast for Friday, September 2nd, 2005: a severe tropical cyclne headed northeast with winds seventy-five knots approaching Atlanta. Flood warnings are issued for low-lying areas along the Georgia and Florida coasts."

The wrought iron sign on the lawn, RAINTREE INN BED & BREAKFAST SPECIAL OCCASIONS bangs like an anvil against its post. Jesse clenches her fists, closes her eyes when the clap of thunder rattles the dishes in the china cabinet as if awild party overhead isout of control.

Seconds, then minutes pass before her heat slows. Does she dare turn on the computer? Inside her office, once a sunroom, she takes a chance checking the reservations. Her weekend guests remain booked. The University of Georgia's archaeologist, Dr. Brice Appleton, has been frequent visitor. He'll definitely show, including a new reservation, Henrietta Murphy, a.k.a. Henny, the excentric Jackson, Mississippi poet,the state's lat flower child paid in advance.

Last evening, two couples chcked in, an elderly couple with their equally elderly dog from La Fitte, Louisiana, and a pair of evangelists from Savannh. When Katrina's tail sweeps in they disappear inside their rooms.

As Jesse exits the reservation site and urn off the PC, the sound of a horn bleats in the distance. Maybe a stranded driver in a balky car, she reasons. No one in the driveway but it's hard to see in the dowpour. Yet, the horns blars again. Thunder, a corksrew flash of lightening warns her to stay inside. The house lights flicker. A thud hits the front door. Jesse dashes to the foyer, peers through the etched-glass side windows. Nothing. But as she turns, a small squeak follows a howl of real distress. Jesse throws open the door.

A wet child cringes by a porch column. "Ma's car is bad broke." The drenched sweatshirt's hood hides a face, except for a wide-mouth gap between his or her teeth. "Can't fix it no way," says a shivering small form.

Let's Talk About Books Group

2010-03-03T07:11:00.000-08:00

I had a wonderful experience yesterday. Invited by the "Let's Talk About Books Group," I spoke for about forty-five minutes about THE MEANS OF ESCAPE, describing how and why I wrote the book. Unfortunately, I didn't bring spare copies with me because everyone wanted one. (Actually, I don't receive royalties if I buy the books.) This was a positive experience for me as the first time I talked about my novel before a audience.

This group composed of educated women, who asked all the right questions. They're widely read with varied opinions on what makes a great book. One woman said she hated the author of UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN because she wrote about joyously basking in the Italian countryside, eating lobster and drinking wine. It was just a too, too beautiful life.

Saturday's friends

2010-02-21T09:26:00.000-08:00

I had a good time at my Borders book signing, although I only sold two books. Part of the reason was the location in the back of the store next to the cafe. 90% of the customers came in the front, broused in the front and left via the front while I was hidden from view. Well, not exactly hidden, I should say, but alas, stuck next to the Young Adult section, which draws teenagers, not entirely interested in women's fiction/mainstream. The cafe patrons worked their laptops and drank coffee.

Bookstore visit

2010-01-23T15:02:00.000-08:00

I walked into Borders, a little hesitant, ... well, hesitant to appear like a pain -in-the-... author, but I needed to find the time frame for the booksigning on Febraury 20th. A sales person found me before Laurie, the EVENTS CO-ORDINATOR did.

"I'm an author," I said, pulling myself up to my tallest. "I need to know the time alloted for the book signing." We stood near a customer service/ checkout when I saw the most incredible sight. COMING EVENTS the sign read over a display. And there it was: THE MEANS OF ESCAPE by Arly Pineo, with about ten copies on a rack and right next to a highly aclaimed historical novel THE HERETICS DAUGHTER. The adrenalin rush hit my bloodstream.

I'd supplied the bookstore with a large poster and told: yes, they have it, will use it. And oh, yes. . .I'll be signing my book from 1 to 3 pm.

Writing and Editing RAINTREE

2009-12-31T11:46:00.000-08:00

New Years Eve, 2009
I'm editing a finished novel, RAINTREE, women's Southern fiction. The protagonist is forty-three-year old widow, struggling to run a Georgia Bed & Breakfast, when she recues Katrina evacuees: a mother and three children.

When I began this novel I was leaning toward the comedic/ self-discovery theme of Wouk's DON'T STOP THE CARNIVAL, but the tension of dealing with abandoned children brought me to a new level. When one identifies with traumatized kids, a childless woman will often find a connection to her own problematic youth. And so I went from there.

Here is the opening paragraph in CHAPTER ONE
A malevolent force besides bad weather has a foothold in Oconee County. This storm is different. The sky turns the color of pewter, then a deluge of rain forms a dense curtain, and becomes a surreal world. River birch trees barely visible bend to its vicious gusts. The inn's air condition unit vibrates up through the old wide plank floors to her bare feet as the antebellum manor protests nature's wild intrusion. Even the wrought iron sign on the lawn, RAINTREE INN, BED & BREAKFAST, SPECIAL EVENTS, bangs like an anvil against its post.

2009-12-21T12:14:00.000-08:00

Book Signing

2009-12-20T13:08:00.000-08:00

I'm not good at marketing myself but the book signing went well. I expected more people but I had a great time with the people who came. Peggy Turner actually pushed a few potential buyers to the signing table.

Now I'm ready for bigger game. Last Friday, Borders Bookstore called to ask if I'd like to do a signing. LIKE TO? I am now booked for 20th of February. I'm ready. It seemed as though this would never happen. I've been writing for years, but it's taken me a long time to master what is referred to as a 'writer's life, the craft of writing fiction.'

Go back two weeks ago to a neighborhood party when I saw THE MEANS OF ESCAPE on their coffee table. Now, that's a great feeling.

After the turkey and before the goose.

2009-11-27T11:45:00.000-08:00

My sister-in-law came to my rescue and did Thanksgiving dinner. Delicious! Thinking about past Thanksgivings; whether to stuff or not to stuff ? -- that is the question.
There's no reason not to cook the stuffing inside the bird, if you wait until just before roasting. Don't add eggs if you allow the bread mixture to sit too long at room temperature. Add the eggs at the last minute.

I've cooked everything from the Christmas goose to wild boar. You gotta try it at least once. Take a goose, for example, no pun intended. Saurkraut is used as a wonderful flavoring and grease-cutter stuffed inside said goose in the Alsace part of France. Toss in a few juniper berries and voila! To back up a little; in Kafka's cookbook ROASTING, poaching the goose first removes removes excess grease.

A request for a roast leg of lamb for Christmas Eve is under consideration.

THE CONNECTIONS BOOKSTORE

2009-11-14T12:12:00.000-08:00

A week ago I met a charming woman, Peggy Turner, owner of the last independent book store in Fort Worth, rightfully called CONNECTIONs BOOKSTORE on Forest Park Blvd. She introduced me to Leslie M. Gordon, local author of THE HOMELESS CHRISTMAS TREE. I plan to return to the bookstore on the 21st this month for a signing of the Silver Boomers Anthology "The Path," which has a short story of mine titled "Side Trip," actually an excerpt from my novel RAINTREE.

Peggy has agreed to hold a booksigning for me in her store as soon as we settle on a date. I've ordered the copies of The Means of Escape from PublishAmerica. Looks as though December 5th is a possible date.

There have been disappointments along the way; for example, Barnes & Noble refused to give me a book signing because my novel is published on demand. Now if I can figure out how to do a press release --- ?

Excerpt from new untitled book

2009-10-30T13:53:00.000-07:00

The cell in his hip pocket rang. His heart fell when caller ID revealed Mrs. Brazelmoth on the line.
"Hello, Irene."
"Thomas, are you free for a tiny bit today --- say, in about an hour or so?" Her labored breathing sound a little desperate.
"I'm right in the middle of a job for new clients," he said. "I don't know when I'll be free."
"Oh, my. I was afraid you'd say that."
He didn't want to ask but he did. Uh, what's your problem?"
"Thomas, I hate to admit this, but I don't know where I am."
"You're joking, I hope." He wondered how far away she was. "Did you drive where you are?"
"It's no joke, young man. I drove into town and left my car in a parking lot. Now I can't remember the street name or why I came here in the first place."
He didn't know whether to believe her, plus he had no clue what to do. Then remembered Irene had a son named Myles in the area. "Why don't you call your boy? Myles will figure out your dilemma."
"Oh, God! I can't call him. He claims I have dementia. Did you ever hear of such foolishness? He has an Alzheimer Home all picked out for me."
No shit, thought Thomas. He sank down on the front steps. "Okay. There's a couple of things you can do, Irene. Take out your driver's license. It'll have your address on it. Go to the nearest policeman and ask him to show you where the taxis . . ."
"I don't have a driver's license, dear boy. Is that a problem?"
"Probably," he said. "In that case, avoid the police."
"If you say so, Thomas."
He pondered the futility of even asking her the question. "By chance do you remember your license plate number?"
"What license plate? You mean the square thingy under the trunk with numbers?"
"That's it. Good girl!"
"Please listen, Thomas. If I don't know where I am, how do you expect me to remember a silly old license plate?"
"Huh?" First thing tomorrow, he swore to silence the cell phone forever. "Irene . . . Irene, do you see a street sign?"
"Well, aren't you the clever man. Yes. I see one."
"What does it say?" He held his breath.
"It says DETOUR."

Reality versus hope

2009-10-22T09:28:00.000-07:00

Began a new novel two weeks ago about seniors' transitions and the inter-action with their off-spring. Trust me; there's plenty of material out there. Sure to be included will be a few departed friends, Reminds me of one of Wm. Faulkner's remarks on how its not the living you're dealing with so much as the dead.

Then there's the human comedy side to aging. How an eighty-year friend refuses to let her daughter-in-law accompany her to a doctor's office when she discovered the woman whispering to the MD as they hovered beyond the examining room. This is the same friend who complained about the lack of eligible men in her age group. Apparently, flirting knows no age limits. It's wonderful how hope lives on beyond reality.

What happened?

2009-10-17T09:09:00.000-07:00

Still thinking about yesterday's great lunch at Roggeri's. Lovely primevera with shrimp and scollops. I didn't get to dessert. Love restaurants that specialize in good service without hanging over your shoulder, or the tired, "Hello, I'm whats-his-name, and I'm your server." To top off the day, perfect weather.

Jeeez! Spent the morning in my backyard. Turned into a jungle and not overnight. Have a feeling the spurt of new growth from recent rains has gotten ahead of me. Husband, Ralph removed a peaky blue spruce shrub and replanted it in the back yard, in what we refer to as "the back forty." Damn thing looks half dead.

Had a short story published in THIS PATH, an anthology published by the Silver Bloomers. Never occurred before to me to try this publisher. Proves I am not a business woman.

2009-10-15T12:18:00.000-07:00

I am a New Englander, born in Boston, Massachusetts and transported to Texas via 18 years abroad, Germany and France. I loved Europe. Living there changed who I was and who I became. There were moments when learning another language was no piece of cake; even British English had its challenges. I learned to listen to another's point of view of our culture, our literature, what I prefer to read and this eventually led to my writing.

I'll post my thoughts on what interests me, what becoming a writer means, and how the written word branched into other pursuits.

I am me because

2009-10-15T12:06:00.000-07:00

I'm a newbee at blogging, but eager, which says I may make mistakes, but that's what life is all about.

I'm a New Englander transported to Texas via a long sojourn in Europe: 18 years. I loved all of those years in Germnay and France, not to say learning another language was a piece of cake. Even Britsh English proved a challenge. What I learned from the experience taught me to listen to another's point of view on our culture, literature and eventually, my writing.

About Me

2009-10-15T09:10:00.000-07:00