Aspen Mountain Press Launches New Aurora Regency Imprint!

Aspen Mountain Press will launch its new Aurora Regency imprint on July 21, 2010!


Aurora Regency at Aspen Mountain Press is a line devoted to Regency romance. Traditional Regency romances, as exemplified by Georgette Heyer’s work, are first and foremost historical fiction about a very specific (and short) era. So what are we looking for? Hopefully, this will answer any questions you might have about Aurora Regency’s guidelines.

1) We expect historical accuracy. This includes language, clothing, customs, etiquette, events and places. Your book should have rich detail, the appropriate language and slang and an understanding of life in Regency England or, if set outside of England, according to the customs of the country. That includes behavior appropriate to a character’s life, position and social situation. (For example: divorce was not an option in Regency England so no new divorcées gallivanting at Almack’s in competition with the Season’s loveliest debutantes.) Historical accuracy will be a consideration in the acceptance of manuscripts and an integral part of the editing process. If your manuscript has several historical errors, you may be asked to revise and resubmit.

2) We hope for novel plotlines or exciting new twists on old themes. We are open to paranormal or Gothic themes as long as these elements do not compromise the Regency romance genre. So if your impoverished but well-born governess falls in love with the lord of the manor that’s fine. Just make it interesting.

3) We expect romance—oh, loads of it! Every kind of hero is fair game in a Regency romance and our heroines should be head over heels in love with them. But remember—this is a Regency romance. Spice is okay; jalapeno salsa is not. In an era were even the smallest infractions would lead to social ruin, well brought up young heroines were virgins on the wedding night. {However, if your Regency is about a member of the demimonde (a courtesan) and is erotic in nature, please indicate this in your query letter.} And, naturally, a HEA is the conclusion of choice.

4) Great dialogue. In the Regency romance, conversation is well-crafted and engaging. Half of the process of falling in love occurs when the hero and heroine engage in a battle of wits. Repartee is an art form; conversation is seduction. Anachronistic sayings or language are strongly discouraged.

5) Society. Society rules these characters’ lives. The Season is capitalized for a reason. As Jane Austen said in Pride and Prejudice, “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Society dictates that universal truth, and in a Regency romance Society is where the bridal hunt is carried out. It can be London or Bath or Brighton or even a simple country parsonage involved in county society—but society (either capitalized or not) is as big a character as any human being.

6) Fun. Above all, Regency romances are fun—both to read and to write. The more adventures your madcap heroine has, the better. Paranormal Regencies are acceptable as are the more intricate Regency murder mysteries. Even the darker side of the Regency world is fun.

So, do you think your Regency romance fits the bill? Then submit to us! The Aurora Regency line is published by Aspen Mountain Press, a royalty-paying e-publishing company. We do not charge fees for set up or charge for editing your story once it has been accepted for publication. Our contracts request rights to the contracted work, including digital and print formats as we will provide some of our titles in print later this year.

Aurora is looking for well-researched Regency romances between 35,000 and 70,000 words, although we will bend on the upper word limit if the story merits it. Please submit exactly and only the following if you wish your manuscript to receive serious consideration:

A query letter in the body of an email with:

Your legal name, pseudonym if applicable and contact email.

Working Title

Manuscript Length

General story description in two paragraphs

Writing Credentials

Include the first chapter (or first twenty pages, whichever is shorter) embedded in the body of the email. We will not open attachments. If we like what we see, we will request the rest of the manuscript. If this is a simultaneous submission, please inform us of this in your query letter. We will consider only COMPLETED manuscripts. Aspen Mountain Press does not accept proposals from writers unknown to us. Aurora Regency at Aspen Mountain Press will open for submissions on February 15, 2010. Please send all questions and submissions to AuroraRegency@gmail.com. We accept ONLY e-submissions. Initial response times are anticipated to be no longer than 2 weeks.

Back Into The Swing of Things

The recent deluge of snow over Lancaster has pretty much forced me to stay at home.  After a while, you run out of interesting things to watch on television (although thank God for the Olympics; at least it's something) and the internet starts to get stale.  I don't have any new books to read, my editing desk is clear and until the yard loses a foot and a half of snow we can't get the rest of our things moved into our new house.  So, the combination of all these elements (and a nasty case of bronchitis/pneumonia) have culminated in a huge spate of productivity over the last few weeks and my works in progress are reaping the benefits.

I've been delving fiercely into the final book of the Vampire Covenants trilogy, churning out about twenty six thousand words in the last couple of days and a pretty darn gripping battle scene if I do say so myself.  I may have been channeling Victor Hugo, because the thought of vampires battling on the flying buttresses of Notre Dame on Bastille Day has kept me glued to the laptop for hours at a time.  Supplementing the writing, of course, is all of the research that accompanies writing about such an important place and time.  When I was little and my French mother took us to Paris, I remember how enthralled I was by Notre Dame--the architecture, the crypts, the stained glass that was centuries older than my country--all of it made a lasting impression on the ten-year-old kid I was at the time.  That impression has been helpful as I wrote my way through that scene, but it also led to a lot of questions: what is the roof made of? (lead tiles) Were the gargoyles already there? (there were medieval gargoyles, but some of the ones there now are replacements from a nineteenth century renovation) Is this what Notre Dame looked like on July 14, 1789? (No, not really--most notably the spire is different, also added during the nineteeth century renovation)

All these little details add up.  And while I remember Notre Dame very well, I did not remember that the big building in front of it (the Hotel-Dieu) is a massive medieval charity hospital and at the time my story takes place was still in ruins, having burned down a few years before and not rebuilt yet. Occasionally, I'll get distracted and read on past the information I need, which is good.  Knowledge is never wasted.  And then, having pulled up as many photographs of Notre Dame, the roof, the gargoyle and the architectural details of the building, I throw my characters down onto the streets of Paris on the more momentous night of French history and hope they come to life.

It's a crap shoot. I'd be willing to bet that out of the 26k I've written for this climactic scene, less than half will survive in the final draft.  I'm a huge overwriter, no ifs, ands or buts about it.  But hopefully, when my readers dive into that scene, they'll feel like they are actually there--and THAT is when all this hard work really pays off.

At any rate, this blog post has deviated from what I originally intended to talk about.  Many of my blog posts do. I meant to tell you I was back in the swing of things and cranking out words quite nicely.  But, just as my research on Notre Dame diverted my writing, it's also kidnapped and run away with this blog post.

Which, I guess, just goes to show that I really am back into my writing zone.  I'm off now to get through the rest of this scene at Notre Dame and then all the way back through time to an era when Achilles' parents were falling in love and the Trojan War was barely a blip on the mythological radar.

Oh. And it's snowing again. Lovely.

I Write...Fantasy Romance? *gulp*

Sometimes, I am not the brightest Crayola in the box.  I was talking to someone the other day about writing, and he said, "So you write romance right?  All the heaving breasts and ripped bodices?"

"No. I write fantasy."

He looked puzzled.  "Isn't romance a fantasy?"

Avoiding the obvious comment I should have made, I replied, "No--think Lord of the Rings."

Yeah, I know.  Although Tolkien probably spins in his grave everytime someone equates his work with fantasy, it is the quickest route to understanding for the genre-impaired.

And then I stopped.  After thinking about it for a minute, I said slowly, "Well, you know--I guess I really do write romance. Fantasy romance."

For some reason, it was hard for my to make that statement.  Why was that?  Every story I've written has a romance woven into it somewhere.  It may not be the focal point of the story--like Tamsen and Brial, for example--but it definitely influences the plot and the character arcs.  I've always thought of my work as straight up, hard core, plain and simple swords and sorcery epic freaking high fantasy.

But it's not. 

I refuse to think it's because I'm a chick; guys write romance too when you get right down to it.  It just feels natural to me.  My characters (and most fantasy characters in my opinion) are in the middle of a high stakes game--for power, for freedom, for humanity...whatever they're fighting for.  In real life, relationships are born and nurtured hand in hand and side by side with stressful situations.  When human emotions (or Elven or trollish, I suppose) are at a high pitch, it just seems natural to me that the door is opened for other, intense emotions.  Emotions like love, for example, which can be wonderful and terrible at the same time.  Love automatically raises the stakes, makes the struggle more intense.  A character has someone else to be concerned with, someone they instinctively want to protect.  Love can divide a character's focus on the battlefield or sharpen it when dealing with Machivellian machinations.  Love can be both a punishment or a reward, depending on how the character sees it.  A character can fight against it nobly, sacrificing her love for the sake of the greater good.  Or she can embrace it wholly, allowing the swift current of love and desperation and determination sweep her up into a maelstrom of emotional turmoil which can mirror the actual plot arc leading to resolution of the conflict or, in some cases, divert that plot arc into some other unforeseen direction.

There's a tendency to think of fantasy romance like some Sleeping Beauty kind of thing, where the hero battles the supernatural to save his endangered beloved--David Eddings' series The Elenium, for example, does this.  Sparhawk has to find a way to free his beloved princess from the gemstone she's been set in to preserve her life.  But that's not all there is to fantasy romance.  Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Dart series for example (yes, I gush about her a lot) deals with the love between a courtesan and a priest sworn to celibacy.  Their love hinders the resolution of the conflict, distracting them from things they should be paying closer attention to but, at the same time, strengthens them for the conflict ahead.

So, at last, I was able to look at my conversation partner and admit, "Yeah, fantasy romance. That's what I write."  And as far as I can tell, it's true. 

And if that romance occurs over a big pile of elf guts, well, then everyone is happy.  Nothing like a steaming pile of entrails to give you that rush of butterflies to your tummy.  Who needs roses?  Give me carnage anytime.

Voting Now Open for LRC Best of 2009 Awards

Hey, everyone.

I'm just getting my pimp on for The Asphodel Cycle 4: Apostle of Asphodel's multiple nominations in the Love Romances and More E-Cafe Best of 2009 Awards.  If you want to vote, here's how you do it:

You need to send an email to dawn_roberto@yahoo.com with "LRC's Best of 2009 Awards" in subject line. Without that subject line, the email will be deleted. Then you vote by writing


Best Cover of 2009--Apostle of Asphodel (cover art by Renee George)

Best Fantasy Novel of 2009 -- Apostle of Asphodel by Celina Summers

Best Novel of 2009 -- Apostle of Asphodel by Celina Summers.

Feel free to copy and paste.

Voting runs from 2/15 to 2/23 and the results will be announced on 2/25. If you want to see the full list of nominees, you can do so at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LoveRomancesCafe/files/ but you have to be a member to access that page. You can join LRC by going to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LoveRomancesCafe. It's a fun place to meet authors of all genres in case you're into that sort of thing.

Stay tuned, too.  I'm getting ready to roll out all kinds of great stuff for the first Mythos book, Bride of Death--which comes out in ten days!  Lots of excerpts and other fun this week, so let's get to it!

More Nominations for Apostle of Asphodel!

Well, awards season travels on apace and The Asphodel Cycle 4: Apostle of Asphodel has managed to pick up more nominations from Love Romances and More E-Cafe!  In today's announcement from LRC, Apostle was nominated for Best Cover of 2009 (cover art by the lovely Renee George) --

--and also for Best Fantasy Novel of 2009--

--and in a move that completed knocked me right off my couch, Apostle of Asphodel was also nominated for Best Novel of 2009!

To say I'm stunned is completely and irrelevantly inadequate. Over the years, I've had a great relationship both with Love Romances and More's outstanding review site as well as the incredibly fun and friendly denizens of the Love Romances and More E-Cafe.  I've done a lot of book release parties there, made a lot of great friends, gotten a lot of really fantastic reviews and generally have had a hell of a lot of fun.  So anytime, LR&M gives me a nod like this, it's a very special moment for me.  LR&M was the first review site to really believe in my work.  This nomination is the fourth nod LR&M has given to the Asphodel Cycle; every single one of those novels has been nominated for an award either by the E-Cafe or in the LR&M Golden Rose awards.

Thank you, LR&M.  Thank you from the bottom of my overwhelmed heart.

http://www.aspenmountainpress.com/more-hot-reads/apostle-of-asphodel/prod_263.html

Tamsen Ka’antira has grown into a woman of incredible power as the Virgin Huntress’ player in the game of the gods. After discovering the Hippolytes, a fabled race of women devoted to the arts of combat, she must lead them back to the plains of Ilia to fight the greatest war of antiquity again. The pantheon of gods awaits her in their Hall of Judgment, where the ultimate fate of the Elven Realm will be determined. Not only must she defeat her uncle, Gabril de Spesialle, but she must contend with a renegade goddess whose sole purpose is to overthrow the pantheon and rule over a universe wrapped in chaos. But when Tamsen finds herself standing alone against overwhelming odds, she is forced to make sacrifices that threaten everything she loves. Can she find the strength to complete the game and redeem the Elven people? As the Apostle of Asphodel, Tamsen must transcend from a wielder of magic into part of the magic itself.

Review from Love Romances and More (five out of five stars): "...Ms. Summers creates complex characters that continue to grow as you read this series. All the characters, new and old, will keep your attention as you try to figure out along with Tamsen, what her objective is and if she can overcome the obstacles placed in her path. I highly enjoyed this entire series but am sincerely hoping Ms. Summers continues on with Asphodel and her great cast of characters..."

Guess What????

We have cover art!

The cover for Mythos 1: Bride of Death was created by artist Tuesday Dube.  Ain't it cool???

And, as you may have noticed, the countdown clock is underway too.  Eighteen days?  Wow, that's close.  Might want to stay tuned--I have a feeling that tomorrow I'll have some exciting news to post. *grin* And, as soon as I get settled in after moving into my new house, I'll get back to blogging regularly too.

Eighteen days.  Wow.

Until then, GO COLTS!

Preditors & Editors Readers Poll Results Are In!

I'm really proud and humbled to share this year's 2009 P&E Readers Poll results with you.

My short story collection, Metamorphorsis, finished in the top twenty five in the Best Anthology category and 17th in Best Cover Art.  Congratulations to my fabulous cover artist Renee George for that cover, which is one of my all time favorites.

Lovely, isn't it?

The last book in The Asphodel Cycle--Apostle of Asphodel finished fourteenth in Best Sci Fi/Fantasy Novel.  The Asphodel Cycle as a whole, then, has finished high in the polls for three years, garnering two top ten finishes in Best Sci Fi/Fantasy and a top five finish in Best Novel.  The absolute loyalty Asphodel fans have shown over the past three years is a humbling thing to witness.

And, finally, the first book of the Covenants trilogy, Breaking the Covenants,co-written with Rob Graham finished in fifth place in the Best Erotica category.  I now have a new banner to add to my collection:

So over the course of the past three years, collectively I've amassed five Top Ten finishes in the P&E Readers Poll and eight top twenty five finishes--all due to you!  Thank you, thank you, thank you--I cannot adequately express how amazing it is to me that I have readers who consistently appreciate my work enough to shower honors like this on it.

Thank you.

And one more bit of news--I will be attending the RT Book Lovers Convention in Columbus, Ohio from April 28-May 2. I'll be signing books, giving away e-books and lots of other goodies.  Drop by and see me at the Book Expo or just flag me down if you see me!  I'm looking forward to having a great time!

And now...I'm off.  This is moving week in the Summers household and I have to find a way to somehow get all of my books into portable receptacles.  I'm planning on spending tomorrow afternoon settling my books and getting my kitchen in order--the two things I love most about moving. After that, it's all drudgery.

And again, thank you. Get ready, though--there's going to be a lot of fun news this week from me!

Contentment

Contentment is...

...writing for most of the day with a cat on my lap asleep and the rest of the house quiet.  The kind of day where I can take a long bubble bath, while reading a new book, and then get all my laundry done in between writing sessions.  The sort of afternoon where I exceed my word count for the day and just keep going because the story is flowing so well. The phone isn't ringing like mad with perceived crises in five states. My email is oddly empty, considering I've been averaging thirty real emails a day for the past few weeks.

What a fantastic day.  The new 76" cat tree I ordered even came in today.  Unfortunately, the box weighs a ton and I can't get it into the house.  Oh well. That means the cat on the lap contentment for another afternoon until the husband gets home, carts it in and puts it together. 

Nice.

It's bitterly cold outside--like maybe 10 degrees--but the big snow and ice storm is tracking south and we'll only get sideswiped by it. Maybe a couple of inches of snow, that's all.  That's great anyway--it makes the silence out here in the middle of a national forest reserve a lot more crystalline and pure.  It means I'll go outside tonight, bundled up in my coat and gloves and scarves, and actually be able to hear the whisper of snow sifting down upon the trees and the ground.

One of my favorite sounds in the world. Some people would call it silence; I call it symphonic.

So now a nice big cup of hot chocolate, a piece of vanilla cake (because I'm just like that) and back to a writing surge that reaffirms my love of telling a story.  Let's see where my afternoon of near perfect contentment leads me.

And to the weather gods--if you want to send the storm further north, that's fine by me.  I can assemble the cat tree and hang out right beside it while they perch on it and play on it and stalk the birds on the other side of the window glass who are gorging themselves at the bird feeder.  I'll strike you a deal--I'll make sure the birds are fed and you can dump a foot of snow on my house.  That way, everyone's happy.

I won't even let the cats out after them.  It's a promise.

Clearing Out My Vision

Yeah, I know.  The post title sounds like I need to get new contacts.  That's not what I'm talking about though. First off, I don't wear contacts. Twenty twenty vision, thank you very much.

Second, I'm talking about writing.

Sometimes, you get so caught up in the story that you're writing that you almost become willfully blind about it.  Yeah, the words may have rolled easily from your brain onto the page, but you can't really see the whole picture when you're writing that first draft.  I know I can't. Building a good story is like baking a great loaf of homemade bread--you have to let the dough rest for a while so that it can rise to its fullest potential.  Something I'm noticing a lot in manuscripts from new writers (and even some not so new writers like myself) is that overwhelming urge to rush that story into the oven, to serve--continuing my culinary metaphor--a half-baked loaf of bread.

Let me explain.

Once you've written that first draft, put it away. Don't immediately turn around and start editing it.  Let it sit for a few days. Write something else; outline a new project or revise an old one.  Once that daily dose of the completed story wears off from you, take the first draft back out.  Go to your favorite reading chair--someplace away from where you work--sit down and read what you've written. Read it like, well, a reader would. Someone other than you who might have come across the story in a bookstore.  Don't make notes on it, don't start editing with your red pencil.  Just sit down and read all the way through without stopping.

Then, you need to come face to face with what you've written.

Is it enjoyable? Did it hold your interest? (Here's a hint: if your fingers start itching to rearrange sentences, the answer to these first two questions is 'no.') Is the main character credible.  Do you like him or her? Do you care about what happens to her? Is the conflict tense? Is it easy to figure out the solution to? (especially important for mysteries.  If you send me a mystery and I peg the bad guy within the first few pages of his introduction to the story, then it ain't much of a mystery if you know what I mean.)

You have to be totally honest with yourself. If you're not, you're not doing yourself any favors.  You'll send your poor manuscript out to someone like me who will give you all the honesty you never wanted. A writer has got to teach themselves not only to take the cold, hard facts an editor or agent would, but to recognize those flaws first and correct them.  If you have even the smallest niggling doubt about how something is working out, don't wreck your story's future and send it out.  Keep it at home, work on it some more, entrust it to some critical (and brutally honest) eyes other than your own.  Learn to not only accept criticism, but to yearn for it.

Clear out your vision.  Sure, it's your baby but you have to be able to look at your baby with wide open eyes and say, "You know--I don't think it's ready yet." Then take it back to your desk, open the file back up and work on it some more.

Before you think I'm just spouting off advice because I think I'm entitled to, let me correct you.  I'm spouting off this advice to myself more than anyone else.  I am not infallible.  As a matter of fact, I have numerous, grievous flaws as a writer.  And every time I think I have one hell of a story and get excited about shopping it around, I've sent it out too soon and watched it die beneath a pile of rejections and a surplus of 'unfortunatelys' in my inbox.

Trust me. I know of what I speak. Don't make the same mistakes I make--do better than me. Clear out your vision about your manuscript.  It's a hell of a lot easier to do that before you send the story out than to try and disinter it when it's almost--but not quite--too late.

Picking Yourself Back Up After That Rejection Email

Every writer has at least one of these days--you know, the horrible days where you check your inbox, see that agent or publisher's name on an email and excitedly open up a message that begins with some version of "Although your writing shows great promise..." or "While I enjoyed your writing immensely..." or "Unfortunately, I just didn't connect with your protagonist/hero/heroine/conflict/plotline/narrative style/sneakers/chia pet/favorite television show..."

You get the picture.

Rejection is something writers have to deal with every single day.  This isn't a business for the thin-skinned. Sure, those rejections hurt--especially the one that starts off with "Dear Author" or has your name misspelled on the form. Believe me, I've seen every variation of the name "Celina" that's possible: Celena, Selina, Selena, Saliva, Sleestack--you name it, I have a rejection with that name set on the wrong line, in a different font and bigger than the rest of the form typed out by some unpaid intern ready to make it big in the publishing industry. Yep, I get it. It sucks. It sucks badly.

But, are rejections necessarily a bad thing?  See, I don't think so.

Every rejection teaches me something about my writing.  All form rejections? My writing didn't stand out enough in the agent/publisher's mind to warrant a personal rejection. It just plain wasn't ready, or the entity I submitted it to wasn't the best source to turn to.  Lots of requests, no offers? Those rejections hurt the worst. It means my query letter was good and did its job and my first two or three chapters were really strong--strong enough to get someone excited about the work. But, in the end, the story didn't sustain itself for a full read for either the agent or the publisher--and that means it probably wouldn't keep a reader's interest either. Rejections off requested manuscripts indicates there's something wrong with the story--but that it's probably fixable. And then there are the personal rejections, the ones where you know the agent/publisher really wanted to like your work but it fell just short.  And in these times, that tiny bit of shortness was an acceptance or a revise/resubmit letter.

When I first started writing with the goal of publication, I created my Wall of Shame.  It started off as a joke: I wanted to see how many rejections it would take before I got that first acceptance. (It took over 80, by the way) But since then, I've printed off and tacked up rejections that were either particularly helpful (ie-the agents I would query again) or particularly funny. (The lovely mistakes one can make with a form rejection--like sending one to Mr. Celina Summes. Those are always hysterical) Every once in a while, I go through and weed through them, getting rid of ones that have lost their charm and re-reading the personalized ones for clues as to what I need to be concentrating on. Those rejections never fail to cheer me up in a perverse sort of way.  Maybe it's because I'm a masochist. Maybe it's because I'm reinforcing my drive to continue.  Who knows?

But it works.

It's easy to get discouraged.  It's even easier to use those rejections as a sort of weapon, battering the entire publishing industry and thinking that it's 'unfair' or 'biased' or 'stupid.' It's not. Writers--all writers, including myself--have to learn eventually that rejections are actually tools you can use to gauge the market, evaluate your writing and determine which agencies or publishers are most amenable to the way that you write. So instead of getting depressed because you got that rejection in your email, get off your ass and get back to work.  Write something new or rewrite what just got rejected.  Search for a new market for the story or query the next agent on your list. Never allow yourself to get so depressed that you just can't bear the thought of one more "I'm sure another agent will feel differently and best of luck" email. Use it as a spur to perfect and hone your craft.

Because in the end, that's what it all boils down to. Success, in the end, depends upon your ability to persevere in the face of rejection.

Teddy Roosevelt once said, "Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."  Good ol' Rough and Ready was absolutely right. If you want to be a career writer, you've got to recognize failure as your greatest teacher.

Success won't come to you; you have to go after it.

Now, if you'll excuse me--I have a novel to rewrite.

Recharging My Creative Batteries

Yep. I really need to.

That could have been the entire post, honestly.  I'm producing words--quite a few of them in fact.  I'm kind of stuck on determining what my next big project is going to be.  I want to focus on fantasy, maybe, or perhaps another paranormal.  Whatever it is, it's not the things I'm working on at the moment.  I want the project that's going to get me excited, the one that's going to crank into high gear and drives me to produce.  I want the idea that takes over my life and forces me to write about it.

Yeah, I know--I want, I want, I want.  It's all about what I want.  That's not what it should be about. It should be about what wants me to write it.

I think I need a vacation.

Sometimes, even seeing something new can get the creative juices going.  That's what I need. Something to stimulate that one great idea.

So, I think I'm going to take a virtual vacation.  I need to look at some new places, maybe read something that jogs some sort of inspiration. If that doesn't work, maybe I'll take a real vacation and see what that does.  The one thing I know for certain is that I can't sit around and wait for that next great idea to take me.  I need to go after it and find it.

Google images, here I come.

Heroism in Silence

I saw something very unusual today and I thought I'd share it with you.

My mother in law and I were on our way to lunch when we saw a whole mess of flashing lights on Memorial Drive, which is the main thoroughfare through Lancaster, Ohio which is were I live.  My mother in law, noticing that the police had blocked off the entire road, turned onto a side street, went a couple of blocks up and started on a path parallel to the one we were originally taking. We hadn't gone two blocks when a patrol car pulled into the intersection one car ahead of us, lights flashing, and stopped. 

My first thought was that there was some kind of dangerous situation. And then, I saw the first fire truck, draped with black gauze buntings and with a firefighter's protective jacket on the front grill and I knew what was happening.

On January 2, firefighters in Lancaster responded to an apartment fire. While supervising the crews battling the flames, Lt. Joseph McCafferty collapsed.  He was taken to the hospital, and eventually passed away on January 16. He was only 59. He was the first Lancaster firefighter to fall in the line of duty since the days of horse-drawn fire engines.

What we were witnessing was his funeral cortege.  And even then, it took me a few minutes to recognize the magnitude of what was happening in front of me.

The funeral procession, including the fire engine that carried Lt. McCafferty's casket, stretched a mile in length.  It was comprised of fire engines, ambulances, emergency squads and fire chiefs from all over the state of Ohio--some from as far away as Canton and Dayton. All along the funeral route, flags were lowered to half staff--not only at government facilities but also in the front yards of private citizens.

Those private citizens also lined the streets.  School kids watched in front of their schools.  Police officers who were cordoning off the route stood at attention and saluted.  The cars before and behind us all shut off their engines--and so did we.  And we all watched as fire truck after fire truck passed in front of us.  The fire chiefs in their red-painted cars looked out at us, rows of gold braid striping their sleeves.

There was a store on the left corner of these shops with a big display window, and the store employees stood in a row, witnessing the procession from indoors. And still the fire trucks kept coming.  Some of the firefighters I saw were older men, salt and peppered hair brushed back neatly.  Yet others didn't look old enough to drive much less drive a fire truck or carry people out of burning buildings.  While there were many trucks from Lancaster and I saw lots of firemen I know, the majority of them were from other counties.  They couldn't have had more than a passing acquaintanceship with Lt. McCafferty, but still they came to pay their respects to a man who'd literally given his life in the course of doing his duty.

The last time Lt. McCafferty had seen a rescue squad, he was a patient. Now they drove behind his casket to honor him. It got me thinking.  We all remember (and probably always will) the incredible courage and gallantry of the first responders in New York City on 9/11.  That bravery is now indelibly tattoed upon the men and women who serve in our fire departments or police departments all across the country, no matter where they serve.  It doesn't matter if it's in a huge metropolis like NYC or a small town like Lancaster, we still look at our first responders the same way, a way that has changed since 9/11 and strengthened our respect for the people who risk their lives in order to save ours.

Lt. Joseph McCafferty didn't die while rescuing people from a burning building.  He wasn't shot by a criminal. But still, his death is tragic.  He is not a hero for how he died.  He is a hero for how he lived.

The local newspaper, the Lancaster Eagle Gazette,  related the final tribute to Joseph McCafferty in their article this afternoon about the funeral. The 911 dispatchers sounded the tones for the fire department three times.  Three times they called for Lt. Joseph McCafferty.  Three times, they received no reply.

Finally, the dispatcher said, "For all fire personnel, this will be Lt. McCafferty's last call."

Rest in peace and good voyage to you, sir.

Driving In The Fog

A few nights ago, I was driving from Ohio down to Louisville, Kentucky.  It was one of those dark, misty kinds of nights--not raining, so windshield wipers were of no use and yet still wet enough to pixellate the windshield with water.  It's been a long time since I've driven that far by myself at night.  On top of that, I was in my new car (did I mention my new PT Cruiser yet? No? Well, some other time) and wasn't that familiar with it yet. So, I was driving tentatively--both hands on the wheel, moderating my speed so I did just the speed limit and not an MPH more (something that would never have happened ten years ago) and being very careful around other cars. 

One of the bad things about that particular stretch of road (71 to Cincinnati, 75 to Louisville, 65 to the exit closest to my daughter's house) is how difficult it is to find a good radio station. And, being too stupid to live, I neglected to take any CDs with me.  So, I had two choices: I could either listen to static, or I could use the long, quiet trip for contemplation.

Contemplation wins out over silence every single time.

Then, only about an hour into the drive, fog settled in.  It wasn't even that late; it was just after sunset on a very gray day, but the fog that gathers in the river bottoms around the Ohio River extends all across the southern quadrant of the state.  It was thick fog--yellow tinged in places from the streetlamps--the kind of fog that clings to everything and makes it clammy and almost morbid. The fog suited my mood perfectly.

I think I've been driving in a fog for a long time.

There's a miasma hovering over my life, concealing my way down the road my life's journey is set to travel.  Whereas once I thought I was going to be driving through a flat, open expanse where all the pitfalls could be detected far in advance and where the horizon was far away and level with the stretch of road I was traveling, I know now that I'm not.  My life's journey has never reached that plain--you know the plain I'm talking about: the one where you can set the cruise control to ten miles above the speed limit and open the sunroof (did I mention my PT cruiser has a sunroof? No? More on that later) and just drive, thrilling in the prospects before you. The road is level and well-paved, offering the traveler a smooth ride and comfort. The end of the road is nowhere in sight, but it will be soon. That last exit, the one you're going to get off on, is the one with a sign that reads "Your Ambition Begins Here; 80 mph" and that sign is so big and so prominent that you can't miss it on this vast plateau. It's the only guidepost there; it's the only guidepost needed.

But that's not my life road.

My life road began in a small valley, one with hills just tall enough on either side that I couldn't see over them. All my life, as a child and a young adult, my only goal was to get over those hills and see what was on the other side.  But when I did, I found more hills. And after those, even more.  And as I drove on, desperately seeking some avenue with purpose, some road that led to the plain I'd always dreamed about, the road grew more treacherous.  The curves were difficult to negotiate, the traffic was bad but moving fast and recklessly and the road itself was pockmarked with pits and cracks, the hills became heavily forested mountains and bulging, baked asphalt that sent my car flying over them.  Big trucks would suddenly change lanes and veer into mine, never knowing that I was there, and I had to manuever my car onto the bern and execute a video game driving trick to keep from wiping out. (This really did happen to me the other night, by the way. Damn truck. Did I mention how fabulous my new PT Cruiser handles the road? No? More on that later) And now on that road I'm trapped upon, it's night.  It's a moonless night, with nothing to light my way, and then the fog rolls in over the mountain tops. So I drive quicker, all the while keeping one anxious eye on the road (looking for more big trucks) and the other on the fog that is creeping down the faces of the mountains on either side of me.  It seeps through the trees, clinging to the fungus-spotted trunks, continuing its inevitable crawl toward the road with thickening fingers of mist.

All I can do is slow down.  All I can do is to take the steering wheel in a firmer grip and try to keep my vehicle on the road. As the night strengthens, the fog grows whiter against the pitched color of the skies and woods and mountains.  My headlights only illuminate the road a few feet in front of me.  I'm driving slowly, so slowly that if a car is one curve behind me and speeding, it will plow into the back of my car and knock it off the road into the steep ravines now on either side of the road. I'm terrified now and I don't know what to do.  I can't stop; there's nowhere to pull over.  I can't go back; there's nowhere to turn around.  All I can do is drive on, ever forward, always praying I make it around the next bend, over the next mountain, through the next stretch of road. The windshield wiper blades rocking back and forth sound like the toscins in Paris the night the Bastille was stormed, pounding out my death sentence in rhythmic squeals against the mist-draped glass.  And then, I glance at the fuel gauge and a new worry materializes. I have less than half a tank left.  What if that's not enough gas? What if there's no service station before I run out? If I do run out, what will I do? My cell phone doesn't work in the mountains (or, apparently, anywhere near my daughter's house.  I had it plugged up to the charger in the car--did I mention that my new PT Cruiser has two power sources? The standard cigarette lighter style one and a regular plug in kind of outlet? No? More on that later) and there's no one I can call for help.

So my only option is to keep on driving. In a little while, I'll gain the courage to take these curves and mountains at regular speed, trusting to my abilities and my vehicle to keep me on the right road.  Eventually, I'll find a gas station. I'll stop there, fill up with gas, call someone on my cell phone and get directions to the closest hotel. I'll get to that hotel, get a room and finally pull up in front of it.  Then I'll turn my car off, wait for the lights to turn themselves off (did I mention that my new PT Cruiser has those really cool halogen headlights? No? More on that later), go into my hotel room and get some rest.

Then the next morning after a good night's sleep (despite the recurring nightmarish dreams of fog and homicidal 18-wheelers), I'll get back into my car. I'll turn it on, open the sunroof, crank up the stereo system (did I mention that my new PT Cruiser has a kick-ass sound system? No? More on that later) and jam to some really good music--Pearl Jam, maybe, or old REM. I'll put on my sunglasses and light a cigarette and drive out of the hotel parking lot with one hand on the wheel and a smile on my face.  I'll be able to face those mountains better in the daylight, for all the fog will be gone. I'll appreciate the beauty of the scenery and congratulate myself on not taking that boring old road across the boring old plain. And as I drive, all the fear and uncertainty of the night before will fade in the glare of a new day's sunlight.

Driving in the fog makes you more alert. Driving in the sunlight makes you complacent. Or, as Robert Frost put it:

I shall be telling this with a sigh



Somewhere ages and ages hence:


Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--


I took the one less traveled by,


And that has made all the difference.

Oh, by the way, I got a new car.