The Test of Time,

 But That Was Yesterday

by Kathleen Eagle

The popularity of e-books has given multi-published authors the chance to offer their best previously-published books to readers in a medium that wasn’t available when the book first came out. Wow! It’s a whole new century, new millennium, new technology . . .

But is it a new ball game? Readers tell me that they love the portability, the convenience of storing a whole library in a gadget that fits in a pocket or purse. I celebrate the chance to make improvements before the book goes into the gadget.

Every writer who’s experienced the thrill of getting that box in the mail knows the feeling. The box contains the story she’s lived with for months in physical book form. She’s poured sweat and tears into this baby. Blood? Metaphorically, maybe. But definitely sweat and tears. Writing is hard work. And here’s the reward. It’s a real book. She takes a copy out of the box, pets the cover as if it might return her affection at last with some kind of contented sound, turns back the cover, and joins in the act of conjuring up images from the words on the page.

Wait a minute. Did I write that? I love it. I can’t believe it came from me. It has its own life. It belongs to readers now. It’s on its own. And it’s good. It draws me in. It’s as if . . .

Wait a minute. Did I write that? Can I grab it back one more time and change a few words? Right here, it’s just one sentence too many. Or too few. I can do better.

So the e-book—the whole new medium—that’s my chance. I’ve written many books since I finished But That Was Yesterday, and even though I won praise and awards for the book years ago, I know I’m technically a much better writer now. Am I a better storyteller?

I write from character, and I love the characters in this story. Sage Parker still breaks my heart and then puts the pieces back together. I love the story—the setting, the plot, the themes—all still there. I remember doing the research on how to build roads—Sage’s job. The wonderful friend who worked for the ND Department Of Transportation has since passed away, but the inspiration he gave me lives on in a book that I’ve revised more for style than for story. I didn’t change the setting. Every story is a moment in some time, lives lived in some place.

When the storyteller brings the audience to that time and place, the game isn’t new. It’s timeless.

But That Was Yesterday is on sale for $1.99 until January 31st!

Serving Up Holiday Cheer

by Kathleen Eagle

Isn’t it strange that when you’re a kid it takes forever for the holidays to roll around from one calendar to the next, but the older you get, the faster they roll? And the more holiday memories you collect, the more nostalgic you become. You’re driving down the road and you hear the first few notes of your father’s favorite Christmas song. You get all misty. The road better not be the interstate–or the turnpike where I grew up–because misty can turn to waterworks in a hurry, and windshield wipers don’t do anything for eyeballs. When you’re a child, it’s all about anticipation. For an adult, memories become part of the joy. We recreate the look and the sound and the scent of holiday magic the soft, glowing way we remember it and the way we hope it will be for our children and our children’s children.

Which is why we tell stories. We save up, and we shop. We clean, and we cook. We decorate, and we practice our songs and our plays. But without the stories, these traditions won’t be remembered. The storyteller’s gift is precious. During the holidays, it is memory.

THE SHARING SPOON is a collection of three novellas. They’re romantic, of course, and the characters are fictitious, but they’re built on some of my memories. “The Wolf and the Lamb” is a Western. I’ve loved Westerns since I was a child, and guess what: So has my cowboy. One of our theme songs could be “My Baby Loves the Western Movies.” (I guess I’m dating myself, but that’s okay. Memories are never out of date.)  In “The Twelfth Night” some of my Lakota husband’s childhood memories come into play. And in “The Sharing Spoon“–a contemporary Thanksgiving tale–memories of our move to Minnesota helped me create a fun and fanciful story using the American Indian magnet school that recruited my husband. True story: a family walked into the office, and the dad slapped the book that contained the original version of “The Sharing Spoon” on the counter. “Is this the school in this book?” he asked. The secretary carefully, cautiously explained that the story was fiction. “But the author’s husband is a teacher here,” she said. “Sign my kids up,” was the man’s response. The secretary herself told me this story, and she’s sticking to it. Sweet, huh?

I hope you’ll grab “The Sharing Spoon” while it’s on sale. I’ve heard from several readers who say that re-reading it has become an annual tradition for them. That, too. is as sweet as hot chocolate with a peppermint stirring stick. May your holidays taste even sweeter!

Make your Thanksgiving sweet! Pick up THE SHARING SPOON today!

Night After Night

by Kathleen Eagle

Where do characters come from? From life, of course. From people. Even if the character is an animal, if it has thoughts, it’s a personification. Every writer’s characters come from people the writer has somehow experienced. Fiction is about the human experience—yes, even sci fi, even fantasy—fiction is about us. Writers find stories and characters in the world around them.

One of my most memorable characters is just a boy in THE NIGHT REMEMBERS, which was published in 1997. His father is black, his mother Lakota Sioux, and Tommy T—the nickname his father gave him—lives on the streets of Minneapolis. He’s resourceful, independent, witty, irrepressible, already a brilliant artist at the age of 12, when he “adopts” Angela, a woman who is out of her element and on the run. His older brother is a sad case, so Tommy T tries to look out for him, too. But Tommy T needs a hero, and he finds one in Jesse Brown Wolf, the enigmatic troubleshooter Tommy T calls Dark Dog.

Tommy T is one of my favorite characters, and he was inspired by a student from my early teaching days. Oliver was a terrific artist, a wonderful basketball player, a very smart young man. Years later—soon after we moved to the Minneapolis area—we ran into Oliver at an art show. It was so good to see someone from Standing Rock, the Lakota reservation where most of the Eagles live, where my husband and I met, where I taught high school for 17 years and where our 3 children were born. But here we were, out of our element, and here was Oliver, who was also glad to see people from back home, and who said, “I’m really doing good now, Mrs. Eagle.”

It wasn’t long after that meeting that Oliver died tragically. Heartbreakingly. Senselessly. Years later I wrote a story—not about him, but for him. And readers began to let me know that it wasn’t finished. Tommy T was one of their favorites, too, and he ought to be more than a secondary character. Tommy T had to grow up.  I knew who Tommy T was as a man, and I wrote NIGHT FALLS LIKE SILK.

Tommy T is now Thomas Warrior, a reclusive graphic novelist. He’s crazy successful and drop-dead handsome, but he’s also troubled by his past. He visits Angela, his adoptive mother, but only when Jesse isn’t home. He blames Jesse for his drug-addicted brother’s troubles. And now the characters in Thomas’s stories have begun to haunt him. They want him to go back to his roots, reclaim his heritage. Maybe that’s why he finds himself bidding on a set of century-old ledger drawings and feeling more than simply challenged by Cassandra Westbrook, the beautiful but outrageously privileged woman who outbids him. I believe NIGHT FALLS LIKE SILK is worthy of the irrepressible Tommy T as well as the irresistible Thomas Warrior.

Thank you, Oliver.

NIGHT FALLS LIKE SILK is only $1.99 through the 31st. Pick it up today: 

DEEP IN DECEMBER

By Kathleen Eagle

The weather outside hasn’t been frightful up here in the North Country lately, but in the last few days Jack Frost woke up and started sprinkling tiny ice stars on the grass. Right now I’m watching snow sift softly like powdered sugar from an angel’s donut, and tonight we’re promised our first white winter blanket.  Because, baby, it’s cold outside.

It’s no accident that we celebrate our brightest holidays in the winter. It’s a dark time, and we need to brighten up our surroundings with fire and stars and smiling faces. It’s cold, and we need to wrap up and make a circle and share warmth. It’s quiet. It’s the perfect time to share food and gifts, songs and stories.

Romance comes from the heart, which is why so many holiday classics tug at the heartstrings. They’re love stories in the broadest sense. One of my favorites when I was very young was “The Little Match Girl.” The original Hans Christian Andersen story is pretty tragic, but the TV adaptation I remember had a happy ending. I cried every time the little girl stood outside in the cold, and when she was invited to come inside and stay, I sobbed.  Family, friends, finding a soul mate—holiday stories celebrate people coming together, face to face, hand in hand.

What a joy it is to have THE LAST GOOD MAN chosen for Amazon’s holiday store for the month of December. The story was inspired by my beautiful, brave baby sister, who is a breast cancer survivor. This book is a good answer to the question, “Where do your stories come from?” The characters and events are completely fictitious, but the emotional experience is drawn from life. THE SHARING SPOON—my collection of three novellas with three very different settings and common holiday theme—is also specially priced this month. I can just see readers taking time for themselves with one of my stories during this busy season. A comfy corner, a cup of cheer, and a book.  A gift for yourself. Read a good story and then pass it on to someone dear to you.

And speaking of holiday gifts, my daughter brought me something special on Thanksgiving. We mothers treasure the gifts our kids have made themselves, and my grown daughter—Lady Elizabeth’s Dreamwear Catalog from THE LAST GOOD MAN is a nod to her name—still makes many of her gifts for family and friends. And there’s always some special significance, not to mention imagination and skill involved. The coasters she made for me this year are covered with my words—pages scanned from one of my books. She chose THIS TIME FOREVER because she was there when I received the RITA award for that book. What a lovely memory. What a lovely daughter! And what a lovely time of year for heartwarming stories.

The Last Good Man by Kathleen Eagle is on sale the entire month of December for just $1.99! Click the cover below to purchase!

Brain, Be Mindful of What the Heart Knows

by: Kathleen Eagle

WHAT THE HEART KNOWS is dedicated to two men who helped me grow up.  One was my father.  The other was a fine student who represents all my students, for I have learned so much more from them than I could possibly have taught.  The book is about a man whose heart condition forced him to retire from his pro basketball career.  The story opens when his father’s mysterious death brings him home, where he runs into the woman he left behind.  Full circle.  Once we’ve grown up, full circle can be full of surprises.

How often do we find ourselves saying, “We (or I) have come full circle”?  The answer probably has a lot to do with how old we are, or maybe how introspective we’re feeling at a given moment, or how often we’re given to taking a step back from the moment in order to have a look at the big picture.  Having married into the Eagle clan, I’ve come to appreciate the Lakota view that life’s journey is not, as I once thought, linear—think time line—but rather it is circular, and at the center is the heart.

Picture a dance circle.  The step is simple—side to side—and the rhythm is the most natural beat we know.  Lub-dub, lub-dub.   I haven’t fully researched this claim, but I’m willing to bet that every culture, every human society has a traditional circle dance.  And every circle has a center.  When we speak of the center, we often say at the heart of.  Laughter, love, life—we say these things come from the heart.  When the heart stops beating, life “passes away.”  But we also say, “life goes on.”  Once again, picture the circle.  People holding hands and moving in unison.  They’re not marching in straight lines.  They’re moving side to side, bodies keeping time with the rhythm of life—lub-dub, lub-dub—and life goes on, passed parent to child, hand to hand.

My father died of a heart attack when he was 48.  He had become a teacher after he retired from the Air Force, and he was pleased with my decision to become a teacher.  Since Daddy was a stickler for good grammar and never hesitated to correct mine, I was probably destined to become an English teacher.  I have always loved basketball (Go Timberwolves!) but didn’t know until I was grown that Daddy’s high school basketball team from tiny Colonial Beach, VA won the state championship in the early 40’s.  I met the other four members of his team (they had no bench) at Daddy’s funeral at Arlington National Cemetery.

Robert Eaglestaff was one of my students the first year I taught at the Standing Rock Sioux Indian Reservation.  I taught juniors and seniors that year, and the kids were quite patient with the new fresh-out-of-college teacher from the East. Oh! I was so young, and so naïve.  Bob was the star basketball player.  He went on to play college basketball, became a teacher, later a highly-respected principal.  He died of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy—a common cause of sudden death in young athletes—when he was in his early 40’s.  He was dancing at a powwow.

And now, here’s icing for the circular cake.  Among some pictures my cousin sent me was one of a basketball team that traveled around the country back in the 40’s playing exhibition games against high school teams.  The Sioux Travelers.  The picture was taken at Colonial Beach High School, probably by my uncle.  My brother-in-law told me that there was such a team from South Dakota that was organized by a man from Standing Rock in the 40’s and 50’s.

How’s that for full circle?

Visit Kathleen Eagle on Facebook and read an excerpt from WHAT THE HEART KNOWS and other Bell Bridge Books publications by Kathleen Eagle at www.kathleeneagle.com.

Make sure you grab WHAT THE HEART KNOWS from Amazon for only $1.99!!

Just click the link!

ROMANCE FOR THE LONG HAUL

Kathleen Eagle

I didn’t see myself as a serious romantic until I wrote my first book and started looking for an agent.  Of the half dozen or so query letters I sent out, half generated positive responses.  I weighed the pros and cons and chose the one who had a secretary.  Sure sign of success, right?  I wasn’t sure about his comment that I would be entering the market at the perfect time because “Romance is becoming very popular.”

Romance?  I wrote a story about a woman who took an east-west journey similar to mine, and I set it a hundred years ago.  It was a cross-cultural story set in Indian Country, but there were no captives, certainly no savages. Wasn’t that what they were selling in the grocery stores these days?  I’m an English teacher, a Lit major, a fairly down-to-earth kind of woman.  Sure, I’m optimistic.  I see the glass half full—accentuate the positive half of the agents’ responses and the uplifting nature of my story.  But I’m not really a romantic.  Not seriously.  I’m very serious.  I have Scandinavian ancestry.  Serious, practical people.  How did I come up with a Romance?

Okay, so I fell in love with a cowboy who’s also American Indian.  He’s two Romance heroes in one.  The first time I saw him, he was taming a horse.  I was mesmerized.  Practically, seriously, positively captivated.  He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat.  He spoke poetry.  He took me for a ride on his horse, and that was the beginning of all she wrote.

Three kids, three grandkids, two different careers, nearly fifty books and almost as many years later, I can say without reservation…um, I mean, without hesitation…that I’m a romantic.  The glass is always measured in terms of its fullness.  Half-full, brimming, running over, life is the glass we fill for ourselves and those we love. What we fill it with is up to us.  I choose to flavor mine with Romance.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Kathleen Eagle’s latest Bell Bridge Books publication is THIS TIME FOREVER 

The Last Good Man is $1.99 at the Kindle Store (Amazon) and the Nook Store (Barnes & Noble).

This Time Forever is $1.99 at the Nook Store (Barnes & Noble).

You Never Can Tell is $1.99 at Kobo Books .

THAT GUY IN THE NEW BOOK IS ME
Kathleen Eagle

My standard answer—it’s usually to one of my brothers-in-law—is if you say so.  And very often they do say so, which means I’ve succeeded.  I’ve created a character readers not only can but willingly do identify with, a character that is both universal in his humanity and as individual as any of my brothers-in-law.  And, believe me, my dear brothers are individuals.  I’m so glad we have a huge Eagle family because they are some of my most loyal readers.  And, yes, I do put them in my books.  Not the whole person, of course, but bits and pieces.  A quip here, a trait there.  The more books I write, the more likely it becomes that anyone I’ve ever known can find a bit of himself somewhere on those pages.

That’s where good characters come from.  They don’t come third-hand from Hollywood.  They don’t come floating through the office ready to be plucked out of thin air and plugged into a plot.  They come from a writer’s life, from people we’ve known.  We chop them up and make fiction salad.  Maybe not by design—probably more by instinct—but that’s how it works.  When a character is fully fleshed out, when the book is finished and I’m working on some stage of edits, that’s when I’ll fully realize where details of character might have come from.

YOU NEVER CAN TELL is about an American Indian activist and a journalist who wants to tell his story.  Having lived on the reservation and worked as a teacher during the heyday of the American Indian Movement, I’ve known lots of AIM members.  Hero Kole Kills Crow’s back story was inspired by a couple of people—one idealistic, another reckless—while his personality grew from the seeds planted by his fictitious but reality-based back story and fertilized by those bits and pieces I was talking about, bits that come from time well spent with interesting people.  The idea for the situation Kole finds himself in—he’s hiding out while his former rebel sidekick has made himself a career in Hollywood—has roots in reality, “ripped from the headlines,” as they say.  That’s a lot of juicy stuff to be mixed into the story pot, and that’s only one character.

Now I add the heroine, the successful journalist who’s a fish out of water when she barges into Kole’s territory.  She’s the idealist who’s just as reckless as Kole used to be.  She’s an outsider and a true believer and she serves as a catalyst.  I know her pretty well.  I like her, and I can identify with her.  Details of her character come from a variety of women I’ve known along with one I’ve seen in the mirror.  Not that any of them ever found herself in Heather’s situation, but a part of each of them could have and might still.  And really, it wouldn’t matter whether was a lady’s maid or a mermaid, Heather Reardon is a woman with whom readers willingly travel.  She’s a lot like us and then some.  We’re apt to say, “That woman could be me.”  And she’ll take us on an exhilarating journey.

Could our characters be related to real people?  You never can tell.