Bell Bridge Books

Regency Sea Travel 101

Shereen Vedam

Hang on, there’s stormy weather ahead! And a bit of a history lesson.

The “Regency” era covers the period 1811 to 1820, when Prince George IV became Regent of England because his father, King George III, due to a malady, was declared incapable of performing the necessary royal functions.

During most of the Regency period and before, passengers who wished to travel by sea had to make do with paying for the privilege of boarding a vessel that primarily carried cargo and mail. It was only in 1818 that the Black Ball Line was founded to provide a regular service for passengers aboard its packet ships from the United States to England.

“I shall go the way our brave Sailors do, so take care of my petticoates, Captain and chair the Bishop!” Is not She a Spunky one…or the Princess and the Bishop

Before then, the best way to travel from England to Europe or elsewhere was on board a merchant vessel. As an island, England needed to conduct trade to and from India, China, West Indies, Canada and elsewhere, bringing in raw goods like rice, rum and precious spices, and carting away manufactured textiles, pottery and metallic goods. Therefore, lots of merchant vessels plied their trade between Britain and many of its colonies.

These sea voyages came to a crashing halt once the Peninsula War between England and France began. You see Napoléon Bonaparte had placed his brothers as kings of neighboring countries in order to create puppet states and dominate Europe. The moment he tried that ploy with Spain and Portugal, it instigated a widespread populace uprising against French occupation. And thus began the Peninsula War.

This war lasted from 1808 to 1814, and during that time, travel by the general public to Europe was hindered by Britain imposing a series of decrees (Orders in Council) in 1807. These decrees restricted the movement of merchant vessels seeking to trade with European countries.

Side note: these trade restrictions imposed by Britain was partly responsible for the American War of 1812.

Moving on. After Napoleon Bonaparte abdicated in April of 1814, the Peninsula War ended, and trading vessels once again sought ways to make money through sea travel to Europe. Despite the war ending, however, travel by sea remained perilous and uncomfortable. Cabins were cramped, food was terrible and the cost exorbitant.

Nowadays, we can simply board an engine powered cruise ship or ferry knowing that if trouble arose, there would be lifeboats and marine evacuation chutes to take us to safety. We can be fairly confident the crew will be well-trained to combat emergency situations because regulations require that vessel crew regularly practice evacuation drills. We also know that when we are served a meal, the quality is covered by food safety laws.

During Regency times, however, travel by sea wasn’t so safe, well catered or easy. For a woman, simply getting on board was an impediment. Take a quick read of the excerpt below and see how my heroine reacts to having to climb up a slippery ladder in order to board a tall ship.

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EXCERPT from A Perfect Curse

As their skiff neared the Magdalena, sailors greeted them with shouts and cheers. Nevara was dismayed to see that she would be required to climb aboard by way of a long slippery rope ladder.

Lord Terrance strapped his dog to his chest with a rope he had brought for that purpose and scaled upward as if he did this sort of thing every day. His lordship’s valet, Ellison, a meticulously groomed slender man, stood ready to assist the others. Lady Terrance confidently tied her skirts higher, exposing her ankles but allowing her to climb the ladder and follow her husband.

Once his employers were out of earshot, Ellison began to mutter about the dire consequences of this accursed voyage. He bent to offer Nevara a hand up. On closer inspection, the valet’s proud manner did not match his red-rimmed eyes or his unsteady footing. She wondered if his swaying movement had more to do with the smell of spirits on his breath than the rocking of the skiff. He was more likely to tip her overboard than help her ascend the ladder. Behind her, the other servant, Lady Terrance’s maid, Mendal, a gaunt woman in her late forties, crossed herself and murmured a psalm.

Nevara hitched up her skirts as she had seen Lady Terrance do and grabbed onto the rope ladder. She then made her careful way up. Her skirts still proved a nuisance as they caught beneath her feet at the back. Taking one hand off the rope ladder to free herself, she swayed dangerously to the side.

“Careful,” Lord Terrance called from the top. “Keep both hands on the ladder, Miss Wood.”

Easier said than done. Her tight grip kept slipping on the slimy rope ladder. She hiked her skirts again until both her feet could find purchase on the steps. Still on the skiff, Mendal was reciting a gloomy biblical verse in rhythm to Nevara’s every slippery step.

At the top, Lord Terrance pulled her over the railing with a strong heave and a stout, “Well done, Miss Wood.” His mischievous grin and a glance down to his servants suggested he understood her misgivings. His beautiful wife, too, seemed to be hiding a smile.

Nevara was not amused. She had to share a cabin with Mendal during the upcoming voyage. She hoped the lady’s maid would desist from this worrisome praying. She had enough concerns to accompany her all the way to Cadiz.

Pick up A PERFECT CURSE for just $0.99! Only through the end of September!

From a Teenage Girl to a Teenage Boy

by Marilee Brothers

I spent five years of my writing life inside the head of Allie Emerson, the teenage girl featured in the Unbidden Magic series. It was surprisingly easy for me to channel Allie, even though it’s been—well—let’s just say I haven’t been a teenager for a good long time. Apparently teenage angst lives on forever. After I finished Midnight Moon, the last book in the series, I decided to write a YA book with a male protagonist. Enter Gabriel Delgado, hunky eighteen-year-old senior at Maple Grove high school.

The creative part of my brain got a major wake-up call. I was no longer a seventeen-year-old girl. I had to begin channeling a teenage boy. OMG, guess what boys think about? You know the answer, of course. Sex. One statistic says every fifteen seconds. Another says, they never stop thinking about it. From its title, Baby Gone Bye, you can probably figure out that Gabe acted on his thoughts. Therefore, he should not have been surprised when the doorbell rings and he finds a little “surprise” waiting for him on the front porch. So, what’s a household comprised of four males supposed to do with a little baby girl? Guess you’ll have to read the book to find out. Baby Gone Bye is now on sale for $.99 here: https://amzn.com/B00H4DZ844

Excerpt from Chapter One  – it’s Friday night and Gabe has a date. He believes, incorrectly, that his evening will go on as planned. At this point, the family thinks the child is a boy.

The hall clock bonged seven times. Startled, Gabe leaped from the couch and placed the kid in his car seat. “Man, is it seven already? I’ve got a date. Can we put this on hold until tomorrow?” Without waiting for an answer, Gabe headed for the stairs.

     “Gabriel.” The steel in Papi’s voice stopped Gabe in his track. “Look at me.”

     Slowly, Gabe turned to face his father. He heard Simon whisper, “Dumb shit.” Henry giggled nervously.

     “Gabriel,” Papi repeated. “Do you remember when Rosie was a puppy?”

     Gabe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering if he was about to step into something stinky. “Yeah,” he said carefully.

     Papi’s dark eyes snapped with intensity. “And how did you take care of her?”

     Gabe rolled his eyes heavenward, trying to remember Papi’s three cardinal rules for puppy care. “After she eats, put her outside to poop. Play with her. Put her back in her crate.”

     Papi clapped. “Excellent.”

     Gabe grinned. This was going well. He’d soon be on his way.

     “Now, Gabriel, tell me this, how do you take care of a baby?”

     Uh, oh. Gabe felt beads of perspiration pop out on his forehead. “Well, um, I guess you’re saying it’s the same concept. Right?”

     Papi strolled up nice and close and gave Gabe his shark’s grin. “So, after you feed him, you will take him outside to poop, play with him, and then put him back in his car seat?”

     Right then, Gabe knew he was screwed. He glanced at his brothers. No help there. He’d already stepped in it. Might as well go all the way. He looked his father square in the eyes. “Naturally, I won’t take him outside to poop, but I’ll feed him and play with him.”

    “And you will start this … when?”

     “First thing tomorrow morning.”

     Papi said, “And tonight?”

     Gabe squirmed. “Remember what you said earlier? We’re Delgados. We stick together when there’s a problem.”

     “Ah, now I understand.” Papi stroked his chin. “You assumed one of your brothers or your father would take care of your child while you went on a date. Is that correct?”

     Gabe flushed. “I would appreciate it.”

     “Gabriel,” Papi said again. He pointed at the baby. “That is not a puppy. It is a tiny human being who needs round the clock care. Care that will be given to him by you, his father. Do you understand?”

     Before Gabe could formulate an answer, he heard the amazingly loud rumble of baby flatulence. All eyes turned to the child, whose face was bright red as he clenched his fists and strained.

     Simon snickered. Looks like you forgot to take him outside to poop.”

     Papi handed Gabe a container of baby wipes and a diaper. “Better get used to it. He’ll be doing that a lot.”

     That’s when the Delgado family found out he was a she.

NOT FOR EVERYONE!

by Susan Kearney

What’s an author to do when she loves to write stories that some readers won’t even try?  It’s a dilemma because writers need to pay their bills like everyone else, so we want to be popular with readers. At the same time, my taste has always been a bit outside the norm.  Okay, if I’m honest, my taste is far from the norm.  And when I wrote my first futuristic romance, the Rystani series, the books were way, way out there.  Readers either loved or hated them.  But I learned that many readers simply heard the word futuristic and thought–it’s not for me.  The reasons were varied and  interesting for not even giving the books a try.  Some thought it would be too techie, too weird, too hard to understand or simply didn’t think they could relate.  So I set out to write a book that would ease non-readers of futuristic romance into the genre.  Lunar Heat was that story and  I set the book mostly on Earth.  I made sure to make one character an earth woman.  Okay, I gave her a man from another world to love and a mission that tests her morally, emotionally and physically.  And the romance had to be steamy.  So I finished the book and you’d think an author’s work would be done, right?  Wrong.

The next step was working on a cover.  Lucky for me I got to pick the cover models, was there for the shoot and had a lot of say in the cover art.  I wanted romance and a mood that would be inviting to romance readers.  The cover was so important because I wanted to depict romance, because that’s what the story is.  It’s romance that just happens to be set in the near future.  And if there’s a side trip to the moon, please don’t let that throw you.  It’s fun.  And I promise…the science is underwhelming.  So if you’ve never read a futuristic, I urge you to give this book a try.  Perhaps you’ll fall in love with a new genre and even want to read the sequel Solar Heat.  Um, got to admit, I when a bit further out into the galaxy on that one.  🙂

     Pick up LUNAR HEAT for just $1.99 through December! 

And make sure you pick up the sequel – SOLAR HEAT! 

A Sense of Place

By C. Hope Clark

I love a strong sense of place in my stories, as writer or reader, so when given the opportunity for a new mystery series, I leaped onto the chance to place my mysteries on Edisto Beach.

The hardest of hearts and the saddest of souls can find peace on the sand, waves lapping at their toes. How many stories have been written and movies made about the ocean, and how people have used that ebb and flow, soft breezy environment to get away, seek answers, and let go of life’s burdens if even for a few days?

In my Edisto Mystery Series, I take a broken main character running from an interrupted law enforcement career, and help her escape to the beach where she hopes to heal. But of course I do not let that happen, and what was supposed to be a long-term retreat turns into death, injury, mental anguish, and a vicious cycle of life-threatening events. Amidst the waves, gulls, swaying palmettos and salty balmy wind, danger abounds.

She is often her own worst enemy, and since she’s operated in Boston for years, she views the beach from a detective’s eye, so even where island residents don’t see danger, she does. Without that juxtaposition of locations – big city versus beach village – the magic wouldn’t happen nearly as well.

Setting can often assume the role of a character. When a tale can’t be told better anywhere else, setting has morphed into a player. Frankly, that’s my preference in reading material – those stories where even the very ground the character stands on has an impact on the plot.

Imagine Sherlock Holmes in other than England. Or Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum in other than New Jersey. Or Tony Hillerman’s western mysteries without the Navajo west? True, there are many mysteries that could happen in any urban setting, or any rural setting, or any country, for that matter. But doesn’t it enrich the storytelling so much more to know that where the players fight, love, live and die impacts how it all turns out?

BIO

C. Hope Clark inserts strong setting in both her award-winning Carolina Slade Mysteries and Edisto Island Mysteries, all set in rural South Carolina. When she isn’t writing mysteries, she is editor of FundsforWriters.com, an award-winning site to aid professional writers in their careers. She lives on the banks of Lake Murray in central SC when she isn’t walking the coast of Edisto Beach. www.chopeclark.com

Make sure you grab MURDER ON EDISTO only $1.99 through December! Happy Holidays! 

And make sure you also grab the second in the series – Edisto Jinx!

Hair There and Everywhere

by Leigh Brill

There’s a dog hair in my wine glass, and I couldn’t be happier.

You might suspect that my joy is inspired by my choice of libation. That’s a reasonable assumption, but in my dog-centric life, it is in fact the floating bit of fur that delights me. I pluck it from my glass and nonchalantly swipe it on my jeans. There, the tiny hair joins countless other reminders of my newest family member.

Piper is my fourth service dog. He follows in the remarkable paw prints of Slugger, Kenda, and Pato. The handsome black Labrador helps me deal with the challenges of congenital cerebral palsy, and he does so with style – a style I call ‘Pi-perfect’. Although our partnership is just beginning, ‘Pi-perfect’ is my favorite word these days. For good reason.

Whether he is retrieving the telephone, steadying my steps, or alerting my husband when I need help, Piper’s enthusiasm is boundless.  As a professionally trained service dog, he knows more than fifty different commands. Everything from hold, to get it, to tug, to bump.  Piper even knows the word refrigerator!  Yes, my smart Lab will go to the fridge, open it, grab my lunch bag, close the fridge, and bring me my food.

I keep my lunch bag securely closed of course, but to be honest, I do find the occasional dog hair on my lunch plate … and I couldn’t be happier.

Pick up A DOG NAMED SLUGGER by Leigh Brill – an Amazon Monthly Deal for just $1.99 throughout December! 

MEMORY LOSS: THE GOOD THE BAD AND THE UGLY

by Don Donaldson

I once saw a guy on TV who could tell you what the weather had been every day of his life since he was six years old. He was what they call a Savant.  He wasn’t normal.  The normal brain is supposed to forget experiences like that, thereby keeping itself uncluttered enough that it can remember more important things. For example, while driving your car, it’s always good to remember which pedal works the gas and which one stops the vehicle. When crossing the street on foot, does the upraised hand on the signal across from you mean stop or go? Okay, I think you get the idea.  So forgetting what you had for breakfast on Sept. 15, five years ago, is nothing to worry about.  And nobody does.  (Except for detectives who are always asking people where they were or what they were doing so long ago nobody could give them a satisfactory answer.)

It takes a lot of memory to function normally.  What does my car look like?  Where do I live?  What’s my name? People generally don’t have trouble with questions like that because those memories are extremely important and they get reinforced practically every day.  But for many of us, anniversaries and birthdays sometimes get lost in the myriad of activities a typical day requires. If asked, we could recite the date of those special events, but we just forget to remember them at the appropriate time.  For men, those memory slips can be classified as bad or very bad depending on the temperament of their spouse.

In contrast to what I’ve described above, suppose you look at the clock one day and discover that you’ve lost four hours and have no idea what you did or where you were during that time. That’s not only an example of an ugly kind of memory loss, it’s one that would terrify you.  Now imagine that it happened for the first time shortly after you started your new job at a mental hospital where some of your patients were criminally insane. Did you leave any of the insanity wards unlocked?  Were you alone with any of the dangerous inmates?  What the h… is happening to you?

That’s the situation facing the lead character in my book, THE MEMORY THIEF. Marti Segerson has accepted a job as staff psychiatrist at an old mental hospital in a rural area of Tennessee.  She’s there to seek revenge on one of the inmates for something that happened to her when she was a child. She has a good plan, but couldn’t have anticipated the horrific events that soon overtake her.

In all my medical thrillers I try to push the existing frontiers of knowledge just a bit farther into the future.  It’s interesting to me that some readers will not accept such a thing.  They judge an event or situation in a novel to be believable only if it has already really happened somewhere.  But where’s the fun in that? To me that’s like preferring to get a nap in the hotel while the rest of the group is climbing on a bus for a sightseeing trip to some exotic location. When it comes to writing, I’d rather get out of the hotel.  In THE MEMORY THIEF, The nature of memory, how it’s captured, how it’s recalled, where in the brain it’s stored; all provided fertile ground for the kind of story I like to tell. I hope it’s one you won’t soon forget.

So who wants to go sightseeing with me?

Don Donaldson’s THE MEMORY THIEF is on sale for just $1.99 til the 15th! Pick it up today! 

Click the cover to view:

MOTHER’S DAY MEMORIES

by Nancy Gideon

My favorite memory of Mother’s Day was in 1983.  I was pregnant with my first son and at that moment, the fact of motherhood (other than the already swelling feet) made a unique impression upon me. It got me thinking about what kind of mom I’d be and the things that I’d learned from my own that I wanted to pass on.

My mom was my hero.  She was 41 when I was born (as if that wasn’t enough to denote hero status!). Many mistook her for my grandmother.  She was  the middle child of five living in Florida and would amaze us in telling stories of how she was terrified of the gas mask that her neighbor’s son brought home from WWI, of her grandmother shaking her bible from the front porch at Babe Ruth who rented the house across the street during spring training, of living in a pre-civil Rights South, and of her brothers delivering newspapers to Thomas Edison and Henry Ford (both of whom signed their diplomas).  Stories about bravely traveling alone to New England to go to nursing school to become an occupational therapist, of reading my dad’s redacted letters from the Philippines where he was in the medical corp during WW II.  Of being a busy stay at home mom who sewed our clothes, pressed our sheets and curtains in a mangle  and canned from our garden until I was the last to start kindergarten. Then she returned to OT part time, saving money to give her three girls the one thing she felt was more important than anything else:  higher education. My mom was filled with nearly a century of history, but her eye was always on the future. Except for Star Trek.  She never got Star Trek.

I knew I wanted to be a writer from the time I was in grade school and my mom always supported that dream. The one time she stood firm was when I graduated high school.  I was working and didn’t see the need for college – I was going to be a writer, after all.  She told me flatly, get your education first then you can be anything you want to be. Knowledge was something never wasted.  It opened doors for her and she wanted me to have unlimited opportunities, too. Every time I sit down to plot or edit or research, I’m thankful for that line she drew.  She was my biggest fan when it came to my books.  And I’m still hers.  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

FROM THIS DAY FORWARD by Nancy Gideon (w/a Dana Ransom) is a Big Deal on Amazon for only $1.99! Grab it today! 

This offer only lasts until the 24th!

“The Infamous ‘Eyebrow'”

by Howard Odentz

I don’t have the infamous ‘eyebrow’.

You see, every time I look at a blog or a site devoted to horror writers, each one of them is pictured very close to the camera with their fingers tented in front of them and one eyebrow arching to the sky.

Just one.

I can’t do that. I also can’t taste that weird litmus paper from high school biology. I can, however, curl my tongue, but I doubt that little talent is going to help me look like the author of the creepy things I write about.

I suppose it all comes down to genetics—my genotype forces me to write scary things. My phenotype is somewhere between a New England preppy and a cartoon. Nope—nothing disturbing about that, unless you have an irrational fear of all things L.L. Bean or Looney Tunes.

How my brain got so twisted inside, who’s to say? All I know is that when my hands fall on the keyboard, murderous psychopaths and gory visions flow out of them, and sometimes children who like to kill.

So how is it that my favorite holiday is Halloween? What mental glitch makes me turn to ‘The Walking Dead’ instead of ‘Downton Abbey’? Why do I scour YouTube in search of scary videos that will add spice to my nightmares while I sleep because I think regular dreams are so boring?

Who knows?

My parents were no more terrifying than me. My sisters devoured Harlequin romances like they were the best thing ever. Sure, I was terrified of the family poodle, but she had little needle teeth and growled at me every time she had a bone and I walked into the same room. Who wouldn’t run screaming the other way—or dress her in doll clothes when she had the rare mellow moment?

For whatever the reason, I’m told that people burst out laughing in the middle of some of my horror stories. I guess there’s a little bit of funny swimming beneath the troubled current of everything I write. That humorous shark-fin that can give you the giggles sometimes surfaces. I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but even when I don’t want it to be there, it sometimes knifes through my words, attached to a gigantic killer lurking just beneath each page.

In the end, I guess I can’t fight the scary or the dark humor. I suppose my eyes will always naturally stray to the creepy, twisted edges of things. It’s a weird way of looking at the world, but it’s my way, and I long ago learned not to fight it.

So that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  For now, I have to run. My llamas are staring at me with those huge, dead eyes, hoping that I’ll grain them soon, and I have an appointment to get my dog, Einstein, fitted for a wheelchair.

What? That’s normal, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

Pick up BLOODY BLOODY APPLE for only $1.99 today only from Amazon!

Howard Odentz is a Western Massachusetts author of playwright. His first novel, ‘Dead (a Lot)’, described as a humorous and thrilling zombie-ride, was published by Bell Bridge books in 2013. In 2014 it hit #1 on Amazon in several categories including young adult horror and humor-horror. In 2015 it became an Ariana Award Winner and an Epic Award Finalist.

His latest novel ‘Bloody Bloody Apple’ was released on October 17, 2014 to all major on-line platforms including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple and Google Play. It is also available for order through bookstores or through the publisher, Bell Bridge, at www.bellebooks.com.

Read more about Howard Odentz at www.howardodentz.com.

The Pawleys

A brief episode in the British family history of Lady Toria Cash, the feline fatale of Downton Tabby

 by Sparkle Abbey

“Can you believe that alley cat?” Lady Meow Grandcatham lifted her whiskers in distain. “Thinking I’d simply fall under the spell of his gorgeous green eyes.”

I shook my head. “He does seem rather cheeky.” I’m Annakatrina, Lady’s Meow’s lady’s maid, and the alley cat she was referring to was Alexander Kittingham who’d apparently made a play for Lady Meow in a big way.

I carefully folded the lace frill she’d worn to dinner and reached for the brush I used every night on her silky black fur. Though I would never bring it up to Lady Meow, talk below stairs was that Alexander Kittingham was not actually a purebred British shorthair. He was often referred to as “Alley” in a disparaging tone, by Thomas Cat, Lord Grandcatham’s valet. Alexander was quite a handsome fellow and a favorite of the ladies around the dinner bowl.

He was nice looking with dark brown fur and deep green eyes, but I was not impressed. You see I’m madly in love with Mr. Bait. Poor Mr. Bait is currently locked up in the pound, but I had no doubt he would be freed.

“Beyond cheeky, I’d say.” Lady Meow lifted her paw to her neck. “Would you help me get out of this collar?”

I pulled on the diamond collar with my teeth and it snapped off easily. Carefully placing it in the ornate trinket box, I picked up the brush again.

Suddenly, there was a scratch at the door and I moved quickly to open it.  Lady Vi, Meow’s grandmother, stepped into the room. She was a formidable feline and referred to as the Dogwagger Countess because even the dogs at the neighboring estates were afraid of her. I don’t believe she’d ever actually bitten anyone canine or otherwise, but all it took was a hiss and the very slight unsheathing of her claws and it was clear she meant business.

“Grandmother.” Lady Meow purred. “What a surprise.”

“Not an unpleasant one, I hope.” The older feline stepped closer so Lady Meow could bump noses with her.

“I’ll leave you.” I moved quietly on soft paws toward the door.

“No, please stay.” The Dogwagger waved her tail in my direction. “I know Meow trusts you.”

“What is it, Grandmama?” Lady Meow dropped on her haunches. “Is something wrong?”

“What is wrong is my sources tell me someone is publishing a catty tell all tome about the Britain’s aristocats. I am told there’s a whole chapter devoted to the Grandcatham Family.” She leaned on the edge of Lady’s Meow’s bed and smoothed her fur.

Lady Meow began to pace. “Have you told Pappa’?

The Dogwagger shook her head. “No, nor your mother. It will be up to us to sort this out.” She gave a deep sigh and tipped her head to look at me. “We must find out who this low-life is and stop him or her before our good name is dragged through the litter box.” Sharp blue eyes pinned me in place.

“What can I do to help, M ‘lady?”

“My dear, you must be our eyes and ears.” The Dogwagger put her paws together as if it were all settled. “You can go places we must not and you will never be noticed.”

I had the thought that not being noticed was hardly complimentary, but knew she was right.

“You will help us, won’t you, Anna?” Lady Meow crossed the room in a single smooth leap to stand in front of me. Her golden eyes searched my face.

“Of course, I will.” I bowed my head.

And thus began my new career as Annakatrina, Cat Sleuth.

What would Mr. Bait think?

*

Downton Tabby, book seven in The Pampered Pets Mysteries by Sparkle Abbey, is now available for pre-order at Amazon. Visit Sparkle Abbey at sparkleabbey.com.

And don’t forget to grab your other favorite Sparkle Abbey titles, on sale til the 10th! 

Writing About Friendship

by Melissa Ford

Writers are supposed to write about what they know, right?  And what do we know better than our friendships?  There were the friendships our parents set up for us; the children of their friends that we were expected to share our toys with simply because our parents wanted to hang out.  (Yes, I am guilty of passing along this fine tradition to my own children.)

There were the first friendships we formed on our own on the playground.  The friends that broke our heart or didn’t return our affection or were too clingy.  The ones that dumped us.  The ones we drifted away from.  The ones that saved our lives.  The ones that we whispered our secrets to in the dark during a sleepover.

There are the old friends that we’ve been together with for more years than we haven’t been friends, and the new friends that we’ve intensely connected with in the last year or two.

See?  As a subject, it’s pretty ripe for the write-what-you-know rule.

But being close to the subject is tricky.  No one wants to see themselves show up on the page, and it’s bad form to dissect your friendships in front of an audience.  Sometimes we can’t really explain why we’re friends with someone, or why we’re not.  We may not know what we did right or what went wrong.

Sometimes friendships defy words, though I never stop trying to write about the topic.

Life from Scratch is about a woman named Rachel finding herself after the dissolution of a marriage.  She finds her voice through the act of writing but also seeing what she wants reflected in her relationship with her best friend, Arianna.  Where do we first learn how we want to be loved? Our friendships.  And it’s where we constantly return to measure our relationships.

LIFE FROM SCRATCH is Amazon’s monthly deal for March for only $1.99.  Read it with a friend and discuss it over coffee.  Don’t forget to tell your friend how you could never get by without her.