Of all the wonderful experiences in the world of writing, nothing can beat recognition from your peers.  To receive a PRO pin from the RWA, may not be a full endorsement of your talent, however, it's definitely a way-to-go, girl.  You've made it.  You have finished a full manuscript. Congratulations!

Behold, my PRO pin, next step is PAN.

I think it's real purdy.

When I embarked on this project, I never imagined the complexity of writing a period piece.  Even though books written about the 60's are not considered Historical Fiction, the decade is far enough in our past that the story required research.  Some details have either been forgotten or become such integral part of our present life that their existence has been supplanted by the new.

Sounds confusing?  It's not, really.  

For instance, an electric coffee maker, an item we use daily and take for granted, did not exist in 1967.  We used stovetop percolators instead.  Speaking of stoves, does anyone remember Avocado Green or Harvest Gold?  What about shag rugs?  Air conditioning in buses?  Details, details.  They all had to be noted and remembered in the narrative.  Clothing was a huge component as well.  Today, you mention the 60's and automatically the Hippies come to mind.  

However, Hippie fashion did not monopolize the era, the Mod Look was also extremely popular:

Twiggy and her thin look-alikes ruled the catwalk. Makeup was big, spectacular, and glittery.  Meanwhile, the hemlines couldn't be shorter.  

And so, despite the time it consumed, it was an interesting and educational travel through our recent past.  A fabulous refresher of a social-changing era.  A decade in which values, mores, and traditions were questioned and changed forever.  Hard to believe that was almost a half-century ago. 

            

            Welcome, welcome, as I greet you all to my first blogging effort, I also hope you will receive me with some kindness and leniency.  This world is new to me; one I had not considered entering until Matthew decided it was time.   It is all Matthew's fault really, he insisted and nudged, he would wake me up in the wee hours of the morning, until finally, in order to get some needed rest, I threw my hands in the air and said:  you win. 

            And who is this Matthew you ask?  He is none other than the male lead of my first novel:  Destiny's Plan. 

            The funny thing is, he has been in my life on and off, throughout the past thirty years.   I have seen him in all my travels – I used to fly quite a lot – going home, leaving home and everywhere else around the globe.   Alone, or in a group, I watched him . . . always.   A young serviceman; traveling on orders, ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for his country. 

            Our ritual was the same, we greeted each other in passing; a simple nod of respect and acknowledgment was sufficient.  But three years ago everything changed.  He must have figured out I was preparing to give up life on the road, and as I was driving home from the airport at two am, he began to demand.  Loudly mind you . . . what about my story?

            This world is a funny—quirky, really—place, and as luck, or destiny, should have it, a few days after Matthew yell in my ear, a close friend suggested I should write a book . . . right?  

            And so here I am, happily reporting the story has been finished and Matthew is calmer these days.  Oh, by the way . . . we are not going to Iraq or Afghanistan.   In this story, we are going a little further back in time, we are going to the Sixties and Vietnam, (insert a quick shrug here) it is what my young man wanted. 

Do visit again, in the following weeks and until the book is published, I promise to give a few more hints about Matthew and . . . goodness did I forget to mention the love of his life, Raquel?  Yes, it is also her story; thankfully she speaks with a much softer voice.