It’s taken me a little time to process. I spent the remainder of January 10th, after 1:30 PM, walking in a fog, making calls, meeting with hospice. The 11th, family descended. All my brothers, my sister, my son, nephew, nieces, daughter and her family. All inside one house. Most staying here overnight.
It was a strange day because my sis and I knew that while we had everyone here, we had to go through mom’s things to see what everyone wanted. Of course, her artwork flew of the walls. Everyone wanted a memory. I was left with a watercolor of a sunflower she’d done for me. We sorted through her clothing, bagging up what wasn’t wanted to give away. We parceled out her jewelry—so may mementos from my father’s deployments during the Vietnam War, later gifts, usually with diamonds when they had more money, because my mom loved bling. Treasures we’ll wear while we think of her.
The day she passed, my daughter was vacuuming the house after checking her to see if she was comfortable. Mom was beyond speech by that time, only half here. She no longer responded to our voices. I brought in a bright yellow washcloth to wash her face and began to do so, when I finally noticed she no longer breathed.
My sister, who had driven down from northern Arkansas walked into the house a minute later.
Two elderly men from the local funeral home came to collect her some time later. My son-in-law and I helped move her from the bed to the gurney. It seemed fitting that I should help lift her one last time. My SIL helped wheel her out to the hearse. One last gesture of respect.
Over the last couple of years, we’ve lost so much—my beautiful grandmother, my strong & kind father, my lovely mother. I stayed to care for them. My daughter followed me to care for me and them. I’m surrounded by loving family, and I know that was by my mother’s design. I can shed tears, not many, because that’s just not me, but once we lay her to rest, the work begins, because my daughter and her family will fill this quiet house, moving in to this sturdy home my father built.
In mama’s last days, she talked to my dad a lot. Long conversations that I only understood in snippets. He was waiting for her.
Let’s frame this, just so you see where I’m at in this “process”.
In 2018, after many months, off and on, of personal care by myself and my daughter, my grandmother passed away.
In 2019, after months of in-home care, my father passed away.
Now, my mother’s life is leaving her body. She’s at home where she wanted to be. We’re caring for her with the help of hospice staff that provides baths, checkups, and the supplies and meds we need.
I’m not a depressed person. I don’t cry. I do. But when there’s something I can’t fix, I get quiet. I look for outlets to provide me peace.
While she was in the hospital over the holidays, before they released her to come home to die, I cut and folded pieces of watercolor paper and banded them together with a rubber band. Then I sat down over several days and applied blotches of paint to the paper. When she came home, I began doodling in the times between I had to rise and give her food or water or meds. She was very demanding—not that I minded, because she and I knew what was coming. When she griped too much, I soothed or prodded her into laughter.
Now, she’s not eating. She’s barely drinking. I give her meds for her anxiety and the pain as her organs slowly give up.
And when it’s quiet, I sit and doodle.
I do this for her, because, guess what? She was a true artist. Her paintings and sketches are all over the house. I can barely draw, but putting color and scratches on a piece of paper is soothing for me. And I know she would have loved what I’m producing.
Here’s the cover…
And some of the pages. I’m not finished, yet. I hope there’s still some time…
I don’t mean for this post to be a downer. I’m generally a happy person. I laugh a lot. Still do. Even standing in my mother’s room with family, listening to her labored breathing, we find funny stories to tell about her. It’s at night, after I’ve checked on her, given her comfort, that I walk across the hall to her office and begin doodling, because I’m not ready for sleep.
It was just published as the final book in the Be Careful What You Summon series. The first book, Vampire Vintage, came out a while ago, but the second and third books were long overdue. It was hard to get to my Indies when I had traditional contracts with deadlines, then first, second, and, sometimes, third edits, plus marketing, etc., demanding my time.
Pushing forty, Ronda Calhoun did a summoning spell with her single friends to find immortal mates, figuring they might appreciate women with a little more maturity and experience. For all the others, it worked! So why isn’t her immortal showing up?
Private investigator Nate Smith didn’t know what he had back when he and Ronda dated in High School. Now he knows she’s the one he wants to spend his long life with. Arranging to run into her isn’t a problem, but confessing he’s a werewolf could ruin everything!
But this article is about how readers helped me with all of this…
First of all, book 1, Vampire Vintage, needed a new professional cover. It was previously published by Ellora’s Cave and I had to update it. Amanda Walker did an awesome job, and even made bookmarks to go with it. (Email ash@ashlynchase.com if you want a couple! I’d be happy to send them. 🙂 )
One of my readers loved the first book so much, she became, not only a fan, but a friend. Knowing she was hoping for the other women’s stories to be told spurred me on.
Book 2 needed a cr*pload of editing, beta reading, and proofreading. Half the book took place in India, so certain words and phrases were checked with a West Bengal local. Most importantly I needed encouragement. My beta reader provided that with an enthusiastic, “It’s ready! Publish it!” So I had the cover made by the fabulous Syneca Featherstone of Original Syn and after a professional proofreading, that’s just what I did.
On to book 3. It had been previously published looong ago by another epublisher under a different title. I dusted it off, rewrote it completely and figured the five or ten people who bought the original version probably wouldn’t remember it anyway.
Then I needed a new title. I ran a few past my street team and one of my long-time members came up with a suggestion I hadn’t even thought of! Where the Howl Are You? was the PERFECT title, since our heroine, Ronda, had to wait so long to have her HEA, too.
Part of the fun (at least for me) is getting feedback from readers. A reader taking the time to express their thoughts in a review or word-of-mouth social media post is awesome! I take the good with the bad, and sometimes I’m able to improve a book if it gets a “second time around” publishing opportunity. Like Death by Delilah—a novella from my Ellora’s Cave days. There was a scene that awoke a reader’s “Ick factor.” That sometimes happens with erotica. The novella itself garnered a lot of contest wins and nominations, so when I had the opportunity to rewrite it, I changed that scene. It’s now part of an anthology with two other related novellas called Immortally Yours.
Sometimes, I get that feedback well before reviews. My proofreader Dianne Donovan is fabulous at catching every last pesky typo…and she doesn’t hesitate to give me her honest opinion of the book itself. I’m delighted to tell you she loved this one! However, I just got a “meh” advance review from a reader who didn’t like how the hero never shifted. That was one of the things that tickled me. He was so afraid he’d scare her off, he disappeared rather than let her see him shift. That didn’t mean he didn’t keep an eye on her. Wolves are by nature very protective of their chosen mates. And when she found out what he was, she didn’t get all girly and scared…she was more like; ”Why the hell didn’t you say so?” She had been waiting for her immortal for two years!
So, those are some of the examples right off the top of my head. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all the support, encouragement, and honesty of my readers. Have you ever wanted to write to an author about their book? What’s stopping you?
Ah, those early years of thrilling sexual exploration and tearful heartaches! All of us have those experiences. Many of us consider spilling the whole story in a memoir.
So it is with this new release by Jessica Hardy. Only she didn’t know how to write a book, so she called on her old friend, Liz Ashworth, to help her put the story together. The result is an up close and personal view of a woman’s journey from adolescence to adulthood and of the times she lived in.
My work on Jessica’s story left me with many questions. Does love last a lifetime? Do we ever forgive ourselves for our mistakes? Is there any absolution in baring your soul to the world?
Jessica will find out as her true life story hits the bookstores and readers decide for themselves.
Once in a Lifetime Opportunity
In the mid-20th century, an entire generation of women found themselves caught up in a revolution. Young women tossed aside society’s rules that had governed women with an iron hand for hundreds of years. Suddenly women had agency, the right to their own identity. And their own sexual adventures.
The story of Jessica Hardy and her seven-year marriage to Parker Grant brings that enormous cultural shift down to the personal level. As she enters college in 1966, Jessica is desperate to break out of her strict upbringing. Parker is her salvation, a graduating senior who becomes the love of her life. Newly married, they immerse in Parker’s duties as an air force officer and a world of their own making—nights in Las Vegas, windy Pacific beaches, and long summer days in the Philippine Islands. Slowly, with Parker’s encouragement, Jessica gains self-confidence and a sense of herself.
But Jessica has a problem. She wants more. More knowledge, more experience, autonomy. Leaving no stone unturned, Jess breaks one rule after another—abortion before Roe v Wade, experimenting with marijuana then LSD, one man then another, even time in jail. It all culminates in an unexpected spiritual awakening that opens the door to the rest of her life.
Once in a Lifetime Opportunity reveals this tumultuous time in a gut-wrenching portrayal of a woman determined to find her own way and the man who loved her.
Hartman became ever more distant. I had been conquered, leaving him to pursue new prey. Exhibiting my need only pushed him further away, but then when I regained my balance and ignored him, he needed me. One night when I had spurned him successfully for over a week and had taken the phone off the hook, he woke me up at one a.m. shouting at my bedroom window.
“Jessica, goddamn it, wake up!”
Groggy, I heard him yell for several minutes before I actually woke up.
“Jessica,” he shouted, slapping the bedroom window screens.
I staggered down the hall and jerked open the carport door. He careened up the steps and stood glaring at me in the dark dining room.
“What the hell, Hartman? I was asleep.”
“Fucking mud all over my boots,” he slurred, obviously drunk. He sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs and tugged at the boots, pulling off one then the other of those precious handmade alligator cowboy boots.
“Wanted to see you,” he said, leering at me.
I huffed and headed down the hallway, climbing into bed as he shucked off his clothes and crawled in on the other side, still complaining about the mud.
“You didn’t have to walk in my yard,” I pointed out, turning off the lamp and trying to get warm. “You knew it was muddy.”
“Hell, I knocked a fucking hour.”
“You did not.”
“Yes, I did.” He snugged up against my body, sucking heat into his cold limbs.
I didn’t have a clue when he was with One Direction. Boy bands aren’t my thing. But then, he started appearing in movies (did you see Dunkirk?!), and showing up on James Corden’s show (which I love! Do you watch Carpool Karaoke?), and then I heard this song on the radio and thought, OMG, it’s like he’s channeled the Beatles, and I fell in love.
But he’s so much more! It’s like the Beatles, Mick Jagger, and David Bowie have all reached out to touch him. I think I’ve watched the following video about fifty times already. It never fails to make me smile. Maybe it will be your new fave. And I love the pearls!!
Isn’t he adorable? And what a voice! My taste in music roams from heavy metal (Disturbed, Five Finger Death Punch) to classic rock (Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Van Morrison, Heart, CCR). I also like classical—especially love Beethoven, Bach (any dirge-y organ thing), and anything played on the cello! I detest most country and western, unless it’s something like classic George Jones, Hank Williams, or Willie Nelson. Love the Blues (Howlin’ Wolf, BB King).
How about you? What do you like to listen to? Any favorite music videos?
