A New York Minute...or Month. Part 1.

"Practically everybody in New York has half a mind to write a book — and does." – Groucho Marx

A month with nothing to say. Well, that is, no time to even jot down a ‘to do’ list.

For those of you who know me, writing is only half of the picture. I’m a singer—an opera singer—and this June turned out to be a big month for me. I was cast to sing in an opera in New York City. A month of debut’s: My first big role (The Countess in Le Nozze di Figaro), a concert at the National Opera Center of America and a concert at, guess where—Carnegie Hall. Yep! You know the old saying, “How does one get to Carnegie Hall?” Well, it does take practice—years of it—also a big hit to the wallet—but yes, I made it there. The operatic bucket list officially has a couple of things checked off. I got to sing in one of the hallowed halls of the Carnegie! A very special opportunity, a real plume in the ol’ cap, super exciting. Exciting—and stressful.

My preparations began way back in March for this thing. Mozart may seem like it’d be an easy sing, right—um, nope.

But first things first, though—I was able to go to BookCon, 2019! And it was amazing! Chock full of stalls and authors and publishers and activities. If you’re in New York next year around the beginning of June, I highly recommend it. It wasn’t that expensive at all to attend, and it was incredibly inspirational.

The first stop of the day was the Sci-fi and Fantasy Writing Workshop. We talked a lot about world-building, style, and content. We delved into primary world fantasy, i.e. our world, versus secondary world fantasy, i.e. Middle Earth. What are the differences between Sci-fi and Fantasy—and which niche do we want to explore? Personally, I’d choose fantasy. We did a bit of writing during the session too. We were asked to choose a really familiar place to us and write a paragraph starting a scene. Most people I spoke to chose their bedroom, kitchen, or office. I chose a place I went to frequently when I lived in Scotland: Loch Lomond. I walked the same paths there many times in the autumn and spring during my two years in "Alba". It is a place that I think of often, with joy and with regret. I’ll share with you what I wrote during that session, it isn’t much—but I like it.

'I was alone in the deep silence of the wood—that’s not true—there were sounds. The redstart and warblers and woodpeckers chirping or fluttering, the red squirrels shifting from branch to branch. The distant sound of the water as it trickled down to the lake. There was wind rustling the leaves in the tall oak, and above me, Scots pines towered. The sun left little spots that danced on to the path.

What I meant by silence is that there was no traffic, no outside noise. I could hear my breathing and the functions of my heart and brain. When I inhaled, I smelt the gorse and bluebells. It was intoxicating. The sun on my face was deliciously warm as I came into the meadow. As I walked past the stone wall of hundreds of years ago, I heard the distant bleat of sheep. And little pieces of wool were floating through the air, then tumbling across the moss-covered stone and becoming lodged there. On either side of the path were twisted dark walnut trees...'

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People left early from the session so they could be in line to have their favorite authors sign their books. That just didn’t interest me—not many of my wait-in-line-for hours or push-and-shove favorite authors are American, let alone alive. Though if they were, I’d probably have done the same. Also, I knew I still had a month to go in New York and only so much room in my suitcase—couldn’t really be bringing back twenty books—call it great restraint of my part.

Instead, I took the opportunity to visit the booths; So, So, SO many booths. Got myself a few neat magnets, a little authentic Scottish Tartan notebook—They didn’t sell my clan tartan, Clan MacQuarrie, but I chose one just as dramatic— MacBeth.

Next, on my adventure through BookCon, I went to Pitchapalooza. Heard many great pitches and discovered what the difference between a pitch and a synopsis are in the writing world. I don’t think most people know this actually, but they do differ. I heard many people go up with what they thought was a great pitch, only to be told that it was too vague and 'academic.' I did no different, so I'm glad now, I didn’t get to read mine, because after comparing it to several books of the same genre, it is definitely something to go on the dust cover. I’ll share it with you though, and hope you’ll give me feedback. If you were walking through Barnes and Noble or browsing on Amazon, looking for historical literature, would this pique your interest? Would you buy it based on this? Be honest, please, because that is my goal, to eventually get you, my lovely readers, to buy it.

'Jane Austen meets Georgette Heyer meets Jane Harris; Elegance meets hard times.

Elise Cromwell is thrown into a world she's never known, that she wasn't born to--that of being a servant. With a wealth of education gained from a childhood of luxury, and fortitude born of hardship, she makes a life for herself in 1840s London.

She is taken on as a maid in the home of Lord Russell, a man who is kind and honorable among his contemporaries of snobbery. When his wife suddenly flees the house with her lover, Elise becomes his comfort.

Truth and Temptation is not a "Bodice Ripper". It's about innocence and vulnerability and the loss of it, opening yourself up to something beyond the physical. And in Truth and Temptation, Elise and Lord Russell find and share a bond formed in friendship.

Between the murder of a fellow servant, and staff members with a grudge against her, Elise struggles to hide her love for the man who is becoming a shadow of his former self. Because of his failed marriage, Lord Russell falls into a spiral of self-destruction and overwhelming despair.

As the secrets of his past and hers alike are revealed, will they be able to overcome the demands of class distinction and find each other amidst the struggles of their hearts?'

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Next was lunch and word to the wise, bring your own, all they had was completely overpriced fried food. I think I spent $18 on a pulled pork sandwich and drink.

The one problem with BookCon is that so many of the sessions I wanted to go to were at the exact same time as other ones I wanted to go to. I had to choose between “Why Flawed Characters Make Your Story Better—Or Worse” and the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) Write-In. I’m still not sure which I should have chosen, but I ended up going to the latter. They gave us some time-limits and said: “find something that inspires you on the table and just write”. There were plenty of little tidbits of inspiration and ended up using this one.

I did, however, write something worthy of winning this great pen!

And here it is:

'“Sorrow—” I read the plaque looking at the painting.

Three faces were caught in a web—but to me—a web meant deception. I looked at it another moment before another one drew away my attention. As I was turning, a movement caught my eye. My glance shot back to the faces. Each was still. I leaned in slightly over the road to peer at it a little more intensely.

“Must have been a trick.” I grimaced.

“She’s seen us.” A whisper caught my ear. I turned quickly but was alone.

“Hush!”

I turned back to the painting and saw the eyes on one of the faces blink. I know I did. This was real—not some moving picture from Harry Potter—real! I was much calmer than I expected when I reached for the painting. Touching it for a second, the intricate brush strokes felt odd beneath my fingertips. In the next blink of my eyes, I was standing in front of an old tree, large, with roots that twisted in on one another. And just beyond the tree were two men and a woman, enclosed within the gossamer threads of a giant web—trapped. The woman’s eyes were the first that I saw, they glistened at the sight of me.

“What are you doing here?” The tallest man demanded.

My eyes immediately moved to him, but I found that I opened my mouth to silence. Nothing but air came from my lips.

“Damon—she saw us—she’s been accepted into the portal—she must be the one!”

“The one?” I finally stammered.

Damon studied me a moment. “She could be, I suppose—”'

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I did end up buying one book but have not quite cracked it open yet. I want to finish my manuscript first. It’s been through so many years and re-writes it needs to come to an end and be let loose upon an unsuspecting public.

The rest of the day, I just browsed and walked around. I bought a beautiful little labradorite stone at one of the vendors, who was from guess where—Yorkshire, UK. It’s a funny little side note, but I constantly come across Brits whenever I’m in New York. In the elevator, on a train platform—it’s constant. Reconnected with another former alum of the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland during my program. Omens come at me from everywhere. Well, at least, I call them omens—hope that living abroad again is in my future.

End of part 1—but don't worry kids, part 2 isn't far behind. ;)