A New Beginning: Fall 2022 Newsletter

A New Beginning: Fall 2022 Newsletter

  A New Beginning to Die by the Sword aka To Die by the Sword aka Death in Shining Armor

Night . . .

Saturday, September 10, 1988

The Medieval Fair Site . . .

I didn’t want much that night, just to go out to the shop on the Med Fair site to drop off some pots and cups and mugs that had finally cooled off enough to pick up from the Ceramics Department of  the City College of Art and Design back in town.

Now let me tell you why I decided to open Ye Old Oddities Shoppe and sell my pottery at Med Fair that fall. It was because there I was, pushing forty, and still working in the Registrar’s Office at C-CAD where I graduated with highest honors way too many years before. (Not going into the life-happens events that kept me working there for so long right now.) And I didn’t want to still be at C-CAD when I turned forty the next year.

Instead, I wanted to make and save enough money from Med Fair and other ways that I could go to the university the next fall, get a job as a teaching assistant and get experience in the classroom, get my master’s, and become a professor of ceramics at some college or university for the rest of my life. It would be ideal, I thought, to teach the same thing that I loved to do.

But . . .

BUT, thanks to some crazy person wearing armor from head to shiny toes, I about got myself killed that night, the first of several attempts to murder me.

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Something interesting happened recently after I revised my Novel Basics, An Illustrated Guide to Writing a Novel. I noticed that I didn’t follow my own advice in writing Death in Shining Armor, a novel that I’ve worked on for decades in several different forms. That is, I didn’t establish early what the protagonist wants to accomplish in her journey. I mean the very first card in the brainstorming system I describe in Novel Basics is called the heart card for a novel and asks the question “Who wants what?” for goodness’ sake. And I blew the beginning of my own novel. Oops! So I figured out what my protagonist wanted and put it on the first page.

 I also took some of my own advice presented in my concise yet complete guide to writing a novel: If you’re having trouble with a novel, play around with the point of view, that is, the perspective in time and space of the narrator. Most of the earlier versions of the book were in what’s called third person point of view (she/he/they, her/his/their, etc.) limited to three characters. But when I restricted the perspective of Death in Shining Armor to only one character, the novel’s protagonist Vanessa Laura Mathison aka Van the Potter speaking directly to the reader in first person (I/me/mine), she started talking to me, too. And the novel started coming to life in ways it hadn’t done before. Propelled by that new beginning, I’m now about eighty pages into the novel.

FYI: the new eBook version of Novel Basics, An Illustrated Guide to Writing a Novel, that now includes a section on self-publishing, is available at www.amazon.com/dp/B07K2LXFRP for $3.99 Plus, it’s always free through Kindle Unlimited. Also, I’m offering the eBook on Amazon for only $0.99 from Friday September 30 through Thursday October 6, 2022. It’s your perfect resource to prepare for National Novel Writing Month 2022.

Best, Juliet

P. S. Currently, I’m rebooting eBook versions of some of the short stories and books in both my Calendar Mystery series and Cinderella, P. I. Fairy Tale Mystery series through several different retailers in addition to Amazon. To keep up with my publications on Amazon, click here: https://www.amazon.com/Juliet-Kincaid/e/B00DB4HWRG. And to keep up with my publications through other retailers now including Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo, click on https://books2read.com/author/x/subscribe/1/305166/?preferred_retailer=0&book=927193 and complete the form.

My Friend, the Author Anne Bauman

My Friend, the author Anne Bauman

I was saddened to hear of Anne’s death a few weeks ago for I always counted her as my friend. Anne and her husband Mark were among the first to welcome me into their home after I first went to work at Johnson County Community College in 1980. We were colleagues for many years, and after I retired, she encouraged me in my second career as an indie author. For instance, about ten years ago, after I self-published my book, Walls, a Cinderella, P. I. Novel, Anne sent me a card that said in her clear, beautifully rounded handwriting,

Dear Juliet – 

A million sorries to you for my first congratulations note going to the USPS’s limbo of lost mail. (I probably wrote something wrong in the address.)

So-o, a belated congratulations on your wonderful novel!

I enjoyed everything about it: the true-to-life characters; the tight, well-constructed plot; the consistent theme (so difficult to write); the brilliant ending, surprising to even the most sophisticated reader.

In a word, I wish I had written it.

You’ve got the gift, Juliet. Keep on writing.

Love, Anne

I have always cherished this note and have kept it pinned on my cork board behind my writing station all these years. Her words were especially precious to me because Anne herself was an author of a beloved children’s book.

And then a few weeks before her death when she was suffering terribly from constant pain, she encouraged me again. In one of my newsletters, I’d written about an encounter with an acquaintance who insulted my writing and insinuated that it was worthless because I wasn’t making enough money from it to buy a nicer house. And Anne responded to my newsletter by saying, “Don’t you dare quit writing!”

Thank you so much, Anne. I appreciate your help and I miss you.

 

A Father’s Day Remembrance

My Father’s Gardens, a Remembrance

Typically, my gardens are puny things. Besides flowers, they usually include herbs like basil, mint, chives, parsley, and occasionally a tomato plant in pots on our patio. But my father’s gardens were often superb.

My father, Homer Dale Willman, Sr., used to say, “When the Corps hired me, they took a great farmer and made him into a half-assed engineer.”

Still, though he worked over twenty years for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, my father always had a garden. Until his last summer, he grew at least a little something, maybe vibrant begonias, a geranium in a big pot, a climbing rose, possibly hollyhocks, and usually mint so he could watch the telecast of the Kentucky Derby on the first Saturday in May with an icy julep in hand. And always, always, he had a tomato plant or two.

Back in the fifties and sixties, the prime years of his backyard gardens, he put lots of effort into his tomatoes. We lived in the tri-state region of Kentucky, Ohio and West Virginia where winters were mild (though Dad always hoped for some snow to put nitrogen into the dirt). After the ground warmed and softened along about Easter, Dad took his shovel out to his garden patch to prepare the soil.

My mom used to kid my dad about “digging to China” because to him preparation meant digging a pit eighteen inches across and three feet deep for each tomato plant. He partially refilled each hole with compost, manure and other nourishing substances mixed with loose dirt.

The newly planted tomato plants–named Big Boy, Better Boy, Early Boy and Rutgers–looked scrawny so far apart, their sparse leaves insufficient to fuel growth. They did grow though. Usually by the Fourth of July, Dad would push aside those leaves, releasing the acrid odor that set our stomachs to growling, and with a gentle tug, pick the first tomato of the season. Mom, Dad, my brother Dale, and I fought over that first tomato, so ripe the skin peeled off clean and biting the tongue with its acidity. By late summer, the plants, lovingly tied to their stakes with strips of old sheets, stood eight feet high and loaded with tomatoes that Mom canned, made juice with, or begged neighbors to haul away.

Maybe the secret of Dad’s tomatoes lay in his compost pile that he researched, constructed, and maintained like a true engineer. The compost pile I remember best was a four-foot cube of vegetable peels and melon rinds, musty grass clippings, twigs, lime, and goat manure he got as partial payment for a ship model he built for a friend who owned a herd of goats.

Dad made a hole in the center of the compost pile so air got inside and furthered the controlled decay. Once, out of curiosity, he tied some string to a thermometer and lowered it into the hole. In less than a minute, the thermometer broke. Later, with Mom’s candy thermometer, Dad discovered that the compost pile had reached 135 degrees.

After we moved into town, Dad scaled his gardens small, but back in the late forties when we lived in the aptly named Garden Court over in Ohio, he almost filled the back yard with his vegetable plot. Forty by sixty feet, it ran from the house back almost to the tree-lined creek. Pieces of string stretched between sticks defined the plot so meticulously it looked like Dad had laid the garden out with a surveyor’s transit.

Dad bragged about that garden having fifty different varieties of plants. They included tomatoes of course, potatoes, corn, green peppers, red peppers, scallions, onions, cucumbers, and Black-seeded Simpson leaf lettuce. Instead of cantaloupe, that Dad said didn’t prosper in our climate, he grew muskmelons. Radishes started the growing season and beets finished it. Many of the vegetables he planted I’ve forgotten now, but I still love to recite exotic names like zucchini, kohlrabi, and cocozelle.

We all got involved in Dad’s gardens. One year we had so much cabbage that Mom canned it. Dad paid Dale a penny a hundred head to pick bugs and beetles out of the garden. Dad never let me forget that those pretty yellow hollyhocks I picked one year were actually squash blossoms. Once, we tried to shell tough-hulled soybeans by putting them through Mom’s washer wringer. The beans popped out the other side, and Dale and I chased them as they bounced around the kitchen floor.

My father’s gardens . . . Whenever I think of them, I picture him in my mind. Small-boned, with a mustache, my father wears a billed cap to keep his scalp from burning, a tan shirt dark with sweat under the arms, tan pants cut off and neatly hemmed above his knobby knees, and muddy shoes too worn to wear to work anymore. He leans against a shovel stuck into a pile of dirt. And dreaming of fresh tomatoes by the Fourth of July, he grins.

 

 

 

January Jinx now published wide.

January Jinx, Book 1 of the historical Calendar Mystery novels and short stories that tell the story of business girl Minty Wilcox and the dashing detective Daniel Price from newly met to newlywed and beyond in Kansas City, a place that could get downright deadly a hundred years or so ago.  

Kansas City, 1899

The first chance Minty Wilcox gets in January 1899, she sets off to find a job as a stenographer/typist in Kansas City.

But her search is jinxed from the start because, right off the bat, she doesn’t even get to her destination because some old man with a gun and a sheriff’s badge accuses her of pushing a soldier to his death.

And, in spite of Minty’s efforts to clear her name, bad luck soon spreads like a nasty cold from her to her entire family and to Daniel Price, the mysterious stranger who takes a room at her mother’s boarding house. So Minty decides that only she can put things right.

This won’t be easy in Kansas City where living could get downright deadly a hundred years or so ago.

The digital version of January Jinx is now available for $4.99 from the following vendors:

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/3supap57

Apple Books: https://tinyurl.com/8jr62wa4

Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/39554y4s

Rakuten Kobo: https://tinyurl.com/4ptw6545

ENJOY!

May 2022 Newsletter: for love or money?

May 2022 Newsletter: For Love or Money?

Do I write for love or money or something else entirely?

A couple of months ago, I had an encounter with a person who made me think about my motives for writing fiction. Here’s what happened.

A few days before the incident, we’d had our house sprayed for ants, but the ants persisted and were swarming up the tiles around my shower. So, I called the owner of the pest control company we’ve used for more than thirty years, and he sent over his dad who started the company and now fills in on jobs when the technicians are out on scheduled calls.

Dad, whom I will call Sam for the purposes of this essay, arrived promptly at 1 o’clock when I’d just begun attending a webinar on writing. And probably because he saw me look in the direction of my home office, he asked, “Still writing?”

“Why yes,” I said. “In fact, I’m very excited about the book I’ve been working on. It’s coming out soon.” This book is Die by the Sword, a novel of suspense, a project that has lured me back to it in different forms for thirty years.

“Make any money?” Sam said. And before I could respond, he said, with a sneer, “I know you don’t. You wouldn’t live in this house if you did.”

Pretty obviously, in Sam’s mind, the only reason for doing anything is making money. But for me, probably money goes at the bottom of my list of reasons why I write. Mostly that’s because if I think a lot about the money I might not make from my writing, I get depressed and don’t write at all. (We’ll come back to making money later on.) We’ll keep love at the top. I simply and absolutely love to write fiction. But I have other reasons why I write.

Let me flashback to the ‘70’s. When I went to the Ohio State University, I wrote papers required by my courses and stories like “Graduate Student Blues” to entertain myself and my friends. I also wrote a novel (my first) in diary form as a way of exploring the subject of my dissertation, fiction in diary form.

But there’s another motivation as well. In my novels and stories, I like to show people my readers and I like solving problems like rescuing a loved one from peril and not letting killers get away with their crimes. Our troubled world certainly needs a whole bunch of problem solvers.

I write because my characters need me. Without me, they can’t exist of course. And even as I write this, I have one character in my mind who says, “Get back here. You said you were going to change my name. You promised. And you haven’t done it. And I won’t shut up until you’ve given me that nifty new name that connects me with the place shown in Die by the Sword with the old Kansas City my grandfather and grandmother know in your calendar mysteries like January Jinx.”

And I need my characters. They make me laugh. They make me cry. They surprise me. And they help me escape this troubled world.

On the practical side, I write fiction because it helps keep my brain alive and well. You better believe that I need to keep my mind alive to juggle the major plot line of a novel, especially a mystery novel like Die by the Sword with all its clues and suspects, and two to four subplots as well.

But I do want to explain how unfortunate the timing of Sam’s visit was for me when I was rushing to complete Die by the Sword in time to meet the pre-order deadline of Memorial Day weekend (this weekend!) that I’d set up. The conversation with Sam caused me to lose my confidence in myself and in Die by the Sword, so I came to wonder if that novel had too many plot holes that, in my dotage, I couldn’t even see to fix. So, I abandoned that novel and went over to another project I’d started but abandoned early this year: publishing my calendar mysteries on other platforms through a service called Draft2Digital.

And something fascinating happened. As I edited the text of digital version of January Jinx, Book 1 in the series, I found myself laughing and tearing up for my wonderful characters and rooting for them, too, even though I’ve read and rewritten the book at least a dozen times in at least three quite different forms. The joy I find in writing fiction is my primary motivation to do it.

And so, I’ve decided to resume work on Die by the Sword with a tentative publication date of September 2, 2022, though I’m not setting up another pre-order in case I don’t make that deadline. I’ll keep you posted.

Stay safe and well in this troubled world . . .

Best, Juliet

P. S.

the new cover of January Jinx

 

 

I’m really pleased with my new cover design for the digital versions of my calendar mysteries with facets of the birthstone framing the image. And I want you to know that you can now buy the eBook version of January Jinx not just from Amazon but from Barnes & Noble, as shown in the screen shot above, Apple, Kobo, and a number of other platforms as well. I hope to publish the other books in the calendar historical mystery series through Draft2Digital at a regular pace this year.

 

April 2022 Newsletter: The Perils of Self-Publishing

Hi, Everyone!

Some of you may have noticed that I withdrew the pre-order of Die by the Sword, a standalone novel of suspense. Here’s why. As I worked on that book, I discovered that I was doing lots more revising than copy editing. And I realized that I wouldn’t make my publishing date of May 27, 2022, after all. So, I decided not to publish this novel at this time. Thanks to those of you who gave me feedback on it. I appreciate your observations.

As many of you know, I do almost every aspect of writing and publishing myself, from drafting through final editing and including designing most of the covers for my books. Plus, I promote and market them all. For the eleven years that I’ve been an indie author starting with Walls, my Cinderella, P. I. fairy tale mystery novel for grown up people, I’ve usually set deadlines that I’ve rushed to meet. And so, some of my works have gone out with glitches like the dreaded missing word. At the same time, I’ve neglected important indie author chores like increasing my knowledge of self-publishing and building my author brand effectively.

 

Besides my writing work, I have household tasks like bookkeeping and grocery shopping. I do the major ones, but I put off doing many of the minor ones. And frankly, I’m tired of seeing some of my paintings leaning against the fireplace instead of hanging on the wall. I’d also like to clean up the seeds under the bird feeder on the patio before they grow into towering sunflower plants.

Since there are literally not enough hours in every day or days in the week to do all of these tasks properly and write and publish a new book, I’ve decided to step back from the latter to catch my breath and possibly catch up with some of my other tasks. For example, I’d like to re-edit and reboot my historical fiction Calendar Mystery and Cinderella, P. I. fairy tale mystery series, increase the readerships for both, and explore options for my future work. But as I often say, better busy than bored.

Happy Spring! Juliet

 

P. S. Apart in April, Book 5 of my calendar mystery series, is available Wednesday April 27 through Tuesday May 3, 2022 for $0.99 at www.amazon.com/dp/B095J4BB94 and for £0.99 at www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B095J4BB94. (And it’s forever FREE on Kindle Unlimited.) If you already own Apart in April, please review it. And in any case, please share this information with your friends.

FREE BOOK

Free book! No foolin’! Old Time Stories, a short fiction and nonfiction collection, is FREE April 1 through April 5 at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07F4JL8D5. And better yet , the book includes the short story “The Shackleton Ghost” that takes place on April 1, 1900, and only is available in this free book.

Here’s a snippet from the story featuring detectives Daniel and Minty Wilcox Price; Blanche Whitmore, the daughter of the Wilcox family’s former neighbor, the deceased Agnes Shackleton; Minty’s mother Laura Girard Wilcox; Peach Wilcox, Minty’s younger sister; and Eddie Wilcox, Minty’s youngest brother .

“Speaking of burglars,” Minty said. “Maybe someone has already broken into the house and that’s how that curtain got pulled down. Daniel, I think you and I should go over there right now to investigate. So, Miss Whitmore, if you would be so good as to give us the key, we shall.”

“But, but,” Miss Whitmore said.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Daniel said. “That way you can make sure we don’t disturb anything in there. Don’t you want to make sure the house is all right, Miss Whitmore?”

“But what about the ghost?” Eddie said. “Aren’t you afraid of the ghost, Minty?”

“Oh yeah, the ghost,” Peach said, her voice shrill.

“Oh, yes, the ghost,” Daniel moaned.

Blanche Whitmore drew in a breath with an audible shudder and let it out again. “The ghost,” she whispered.

Daniel squeezed Minty’s hand. “I’m sure the ghost wouldn’t dare come out of hiding if several of us go.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Minty said. “But I must admit that I too am intrigued about what could be going on over there.”

“Well,” Miss Whitmore said. “I’m not giving you the key and I’m not going over there either.” She stood up. “I have a headache and I’m going upstairs to lie down.”

“You’re afraid of the ghost,” Peach said. “You’re a chicken.”

“Now, Peach,” Mama said. “You must respect your elders. Apologize to Miss Whitmore.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peach said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Whitmore. But you are scared of that ghost.”

“I certainly am not,” Miss Whitmore said. “Let me just fetch the key from my room upstairs.”

“I’ll get my suit coat,” Daniel said.

“And I’ll get mine,” Minty said. “It’s likely to be cool over there.”

In Old Time Stories, Book 4 of Juliet Kincaid’s calendar historical mystery series, you’ll join business girl Minty Wilcox and detective Daniel Price in old Kansas City as they sleuth, get to know each other, and fall in love in six stories that occur before, between or after January Jinx, Fatal February, and Mischief in March, the first three novels in the  series. Included are “Detectives’ Honeymoon” which starts exactly where Mischief in March ends and “The Shackleton Ghost,” published here for the very first time. Old Time Stories also includes eleven nonfiction pieces about the real people and places that inspired Juliet Kincaid to tell the story of Minty Wilcox and Daniel Price from newly met to newly wed and beyond in Kansas City, a place that could downright deadly a hundred years or so ago.

Five-Star Review of “The Barn Door”

“This short prequel story to the first book, January Jinx, is fun and introduces us to the two main characters, Daniel and Minty, before they actually meet. I especially like the descriptions of Kansas City in the 1900’s as well as the vivid descriptions of the characters. Read ‘The Barn Door’ and you will not be disappointed.” Amazon Reviewer.

Five-Star Review of “Lost Dog”

“What a delight to find myself in ‘old’ Kansas City again with such wonderfully drawn characters. I feel I know them and would love to follow them along the street while looking for the lost dog’s owner and I could just push that old neighbor back into the bushes after rescuing the poor dog from her vicious beating. Oh, this author brings them so alive and that is what keeps me reading her stories.” Amazon Reviewer

To order your own free copy of Old Time Stories, click here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B07F4JL8D5

 

 

 

March 2022 Newsletter: New Book!

Die by the Sword  Coming Soon

I am very pleased to announce that my new book, Die by the Sword, a novel of suspense, is now available for you to pre-order at www.amazon.com/dp/B09WKX9ZR2 for the very special price of $2.99. (The cover shown here is a stand-in for the final one that I’m still working on.)

Here’s a snippet from Die by the Sword, a book I’ve been working on for decades in assorted forms, along with a description.

Van stopped at the crossroads of four wide paths, all strewn with straw and well lit by an electric lamp secured at the top of a tall pole overhead. “Ye Pirates Cove” said a sign shaped like arrow projecting from the post. It pointed to the left. “Ye Dell of the Ancient Ways Society” said another sign, pointing right.

Darn! Van thought. Why didn’t I keep those keys out?

Shifting the basket again to her left arm, she dug in her pocket and pulled out the set of keys. Okay, which one? This was only the second weekend of the fair and she still wasn’t used to the routine.

She was holding the key chain up to the light when she heard a strange, metallic sound behind her. Startled, she tried to turn but didn’t have time before something or someone hit her in the back, sent her sprawling. The keys flew off into the darkness. The basket holding the crockery crashed into the post. “Oh no,” she gasped.

Van struggled to get up, but someone held her down with his foot.

“Shall you too die by the sword?” a hoarse voice said.

“Die? Me?” Van shrieked. “By a sword?”

When potter Vanessa Mathison hurries to the craft shop that she partly owns on the Medieval Faire site late one night, someone wearing shining armor assaults her. But her friends don’t believe her, even after the body of a young man is discovered on the site. Nor does the police detective she tells about the attack. Still, determined to find and stop her assailant she comes to know as Sir Scourge, the Lord of Lamentation, before he kills her, Van enters the strange world of the Ancient Ways Society, a group sharing a fantasy that becomes increasingly dangerous as Sir Scourge continues attacking her and her friends.

Die by the Sword is set in September and October of 1988. In the ‘80’s and ‘90’s, my daughter and I belonged to the Society for Creative Anachronism and participated in several Renaissance Festivals.

Please let me know in the comments or at jkwryter@gmail.com if you would like an Advanced Review Copy (ARC) of Die by the Sword, so you can write a review of it on Amazon.com on or shortly after the publication date of May 27, 2022. Please note: The ARC will probably be a PDF of the final copy. Please also note that Amazon, being its picky, tricky self, only displays reviews from those who actually have purchased the titles they’re reviewing.

Once again, you can pre-order Die by the Sword at www.amazon.com/dp/B09WKX9ZR2

Oh, I’m so excited. Best, Juliet

February 2022 Newsletter: a troubled dream

What Troubled Dream Is This?

Usually I don’t recall my dreams, but I did remember the one I was into just before I woke up Friday morning.

I dreamed that Jess and were at the premiere of a Stephen Amell movie, and Amell himself of Arrow fame was there. He wore a pair of chinos and a tight short-sleeved shirt with a collar. His casual ensemble showed off his wonderful physique that this octogenarian has no business drooling over, but does anyway. The gorgeous guy, surrounded by a bunch of groupie dudes similarly attired, even smiled at us and beckoned to us to come along.

But we got hung up at the concession stand where some middle-aged man who needed a shave waited on us. He gave us a fight about what he should cook for us on a grill as time slipped past. This is taking too long, I thought. Finally in disgust, I dug in my purse for my wallet and then in my wallet for some money to pay him for his trouble. “This is taking too long,” I said. I only came up with a twenty — way too much —and a one — way too little — tightly folded together. The guy at the concession stand was just offering us some sort of fried bun when I woke up.

Now, at our house, we follow my daddy’s old Pennsylvania Dutch superstition that one doesn’t tell what she dreamed before breakfast, so by the time I finished my juice, bacon, toast with cream cheese and delicious raspberry and pomegranate fruit spread and described my dream to Jess, I’d figured out what it was trying to tell me.

Dreams often are absurd. For example, Jess and I don’t go to the concession stands anymore or movies during the pandemic for that matter. I don’t keep my paper money folded. Still, dreams often are our subconscious minds’ parables. And I figured out that mine was telling me I’m taking too long to rewrite the climactic chapter of my WiP, Die by the Sword.

But in the light of day, I can also see it was my fear that spoke to me in that dream. “Keep it up, give in to all the distractions in this troubled world, and you’ll never finish this book,” it said.

And then I was able to say, “Sometimes you have to put in stuff that doesn’t belong in the piece to get to what does belong. Once you get the story and the characters where they need to be, you can cut, cut, snip, snip. The book will be fine, just give it a bit more time.”

So, this is a long way around telling you that I’m not quite finished writing Die by the Sword this month, but I’m close.

Meanwhile, Mischief in March, Book 3 of my Calendar Mystery series that now includes the follow-up short story “Detectives’ Honeymoon,” will be on sale from March 11, 2022 through March 18, 2022 for $2.99 at www.amazon.com/dp/B06XR1STRN and for £1.99 www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XR1STRN. If you’ve already bought the book, please review it on Amazon and/or Goodreads. If you’ve already bought, read, and reviewed this book, please share this notice with your friends.

Please stay safe and well, Juliet

P. S. Please note that I’ve changed my mind about republishing all my books and selling them through Draft2Digital. There seemed to be problems buying them from assorted merchants like Barnes and Noble, and it was taking me far more time to format them than I had. So if you want to keep up with my writing and publishing, just check my Amazon author age at https://www.amazon.com/Juliet-Kincaid/e/B00DB4HWRG

 

January 2022 Newsletter

Starting a New Year . . .

Somehow, I’ve managed to start the new year by catching a cold. Apparently, this happened when I went to my doctor for a well woman check-up about a week ago. Of course, I went fully masked and observed the distancing protocol for the most part except when my doctor listened to my heart beat. Bummer!

But my temperature was the usual 96.9 this morning. I can still breathe deep and slowly exhale without coughing. And the COVID test I took yesterday turned out negative. So overall I’m good to go in 2022 with several projects. I’ll just talk about two of them.

Recently, to enhance my career as an indie author and increase sales of my books, I started publishing on a platform called Draft2Digital, a service that allows me to format my eBooks for lots of other platforms in addition to Amazon like Barnes & Noble Nook and Kobo. You can check out January Jinx at https://books2read.com/u/mqX1d. You can expect Fatal February to come along soon. And in the coming months, I anticipate getting all the historical Calendar Mysteries and the Cinderella, P. I. fairy tale mysteries on it.

Print lovers, please note that Amazon will continue to be my publisher for the paperback copies of my books. To discover what’s available, check my Amazon Author Central page: www.amazon.com/Juliet-Kincaid/e/B00DB4HWRG.

And here’s a progress report on Die by the Sword, a standalone thriller set in 1988 partly at a Renaissance Festival. The book features a young ceramic artist stalked violently by the mysterious and murderous Sir Scourge, the Lord of Lamentation.

The protagonist’s name currently is Vanessa Mathison. You might recognize the last name from my Calendar Mystery series. And I might change Van’s first name to Meneatha after her great grandmother Arminta Meneatha Wilcox known mostly as Minty. (I need to do a family tree before I start the last draft.) I hoped to finish the current draft by the end of 2021, but didn’t make it. But now the book is in pretty good shape to leave simmering on the back burner while I do some other things like the Draft2Digital project.

I’m aiming for a Memorial Day weekend publication date for Die by the Sword or possibly Labor Day. Regardless, sooner or later, I’ll need some help with it. So, if you’d like to read an Advance Review Copy and give me feedback on it, please let me know.

Please stay safe and well, my friends, Juliet