Author Archives: Peggy Jaeger

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About Peggy Jaeger

I've been many things in my life,but the most consistent is WRITER.
January 27, 2015 · 12:05 pm

Snowmageddon strikes as I write away…

21 inches of snow already here in the woods and the storm isn’t even half over. Isn’t it funny how a snow day  strikes the same happy chord in my adult heart as it did in my child one?

I’ve been up for hours due to the howling wind shaking against my weather treated windows, just watching it fall and writing. I’ve gotten 50 pages of edits under my belt, answered 18 emails, tweeted with 10 peeps, answered a few Facebook questions and am now blogging. Oh, and I made a batch of blueberry muffins for the hubman’s breakfast – who also has a snow day. His first in over 30 years of working! Can you think of a more fun thing for me to do than be snowbound with my laptop?? I can’t…well, I could if provoked, but I’d rather not!!

I got my official release date for my first book SKATER’S WALTZ. It’s March 4, 2015 so now I am embarking on the media junket. I have several blog tours already in the works but I need to get the press release to the local newspaper and then plot the rest of my media blitz. This is wicked time consuming,- but I will admit – fun! I know now, though, why multi-published authors with expense accounts opt to have publicists. I can see myself -someday- paying someone to do all this leg work. But for now, it’s lil’ole’ me doing it, so I am off to find more blogs to tour and presses to release to.

Stay warm, dry, safe and cozy where ever you are during this bit of winter wonder. Oh, and buy my book on March 4th!! I’ll put up the buy links when they are available. Shameless plug, wasn’t that?!

 

 

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January 24, 2015 · 10:04 am

I’m on a time out and I’m NOT in trouble!

I’ve said many times before that any day I can write something – a page, a chapter, a blog entry, hell – even a grocery list! – is a good day for me. To put pen to paper, or in my case fingers to keyboard, just gives me a feeling of utter accomplishment and glee. I write everyday that I can and it’s usually EVERY DAY.

Well, this weekend I’m in a time out for today and some of tomorrow. I have to be somewhere where I won’t be able to write anything. I will probably go through writing withdrawal. Writers, you know the symptoms: your hands itch to lay themselves down on a keyboard and fly; your brain is tripping with ideas that you can’t engrave onto paper or laptop; you get that nervous tickle in your tummy when you think of a good plot line  or a dialogue run and you have nowhere to write it down. In my case, my legs start to bobble like a four year old who needs to go to the bathroom and the line to get in is 50 people deep, and they don’t stop unless I order them to.

I’ll be back to my keyboard the moment I am home and will most likely fall asleep at my desk, fingers splayed over the keys.

Sigh. Addictions are soul-sucking, especially writing addictions. But I mean that in a totally good way!

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January 21, 2015 · 12:30 am

In defense of being a hermit…

I could so easily be a bear. They eat five times their caloric needs just so they won’t starve when they hibernate during the winter season. They stay, cloistered, somewhere solitary and warm, sequestered away from the frigid temps, sleeping up to 23 hours a day.

I could so be a bear! I hate, HATE the winter. On my days off now from my paying job I find myself at my writing desk in my loft, typing away, day dreaming, coming up with plot twists and turns and looking out the window at my forest filled with snow. And I never go out.

I have friends who like to go for walks during subzero temps, claiming it’s invigorating and endorphin producing.

Uh, no, it’s not. Not to me anyway.

I like nothing more than to stay in my flannel pjs, my ugly and falling apart Elmo slippers on my feet, my hair in a knot and my glasses on my face, and just typing away… and away…

I can write an entire novel or two during the winter if I don’t go out. That’s very productive, don’t you think? My friends worry about me not interacting with other humans, not getting any socialization or camaraderie. They think I’ve turned into this antisocial hermit who shuns society.

I don’t shun society. I shun the cold! Big difference there.

I tell them not to worry. Come the spring they will see me again.

Until the time when black fly and mosquito season starts. Then I could so be a bear again.

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January 10, 2015 · 6:49 pm

Writing A.D.D.

My background in psychiatric nursing has given me  a solid base in psych disorders, diseases, signs, symptoms and treatments all concerning the mind. It is with the utmost confidence in my ability to diagnose these conditions, that I reveal  I am afflicted with one such disorder: Writing Attention Deficit Disorder.

Never heard of it? Don’t worry, no one  else has either. I made the diagnosis up myself to categorize a condition I’ve had for months.

Here are my symptoms:

  • I start working on my WIP when I suddenly get an idea for another story and I immediately start working on that instead
  • I wake up in the middle of the night with  plot lines and story arcs competing for my attention and I must get up and commit them to paper.
  • I can’t rest until I have completed a minimum word count every day and I get anxious if the day is almost done and I haven’t completed at least the minimum
  • Many days I will write nonstop for an hour or so, then move on to something else, only to find my way back to my original work in  progress.
  • I talk to myself, even in public, when I am thinking through a bit of dialogue for my characters. I even channel them and speak in their accents.
  • I find myself disengaging from a conversation with family/friends/patients if a plot point that needs care works itself into my head.

Does this sound like you? If it does, do not despair. This is the mark and mind of a very healthy and prolific writer, such as yourself!

The only treatment, the only cure, is to write. Often.

Oh, and eating some chocolate will help to some extent, too! All those endorphins that get released when you ingest chocolate will soothe your soul.

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January 8, 2015 · 12:59 pm

The times, they are a changing…NOT!

I went to High School in the 1970’s, a time of great political strife and social turmoil in our country. America was coming off the hippy highs of the sixties and the age of Aquarius, and social norms were being destroyed and rewritten at an alarming rate. We’d put a man on the moon, finally brought our Viet Nam vets home to a less than stellar homecoming embrace, seen a President disgraced while in office, and been confronted full in the face with racism, sexism, ageism and Wall Street greed.

I attended  a public high school where a New York City police office was stationed at the entrance to the school before this became the societal norm. My school was huge, with over 1500 students spread across grades 9-12. I entered in 1974 a scared, nervous, naïve, smart and shy 14 year old, and graduated in 1978 the same way.

As an only child, I’d been coddled and protected from what my mother called, “the cruelty of the world.” As a child of divorce, I was an anomaly in school. In my entire grade there were only 3 kids whose parents had divorced. Me and a set of twins who were habitually in the principal’s office. And since my mother had remarried, her last name was different from mine.

This made me a social oddity when the teenage world didn’t accept others who were different from them. Coupled with the fact that I was smart – really smart – and grossly overweight ( think killer Orca) from an emotional eating disorder, you can guess I wasn’t the most popular chick in the school.

I was the kid that the mean girls- who were simply called bullies in my time –picked on daily. I was the girl in class who wrecked the test curve by getting better grades than 99 % of the rest of the class. I was the girl teachers loved to call on because I always had the correct answer to a question, despite the fact I hated to be called on because it drew attention to me that I didn’t want.

I never had a boyfriend in high school, didn’t go to dances, never attended prom, and sat home nights with my mother and stepfather, watching All in the Family and The Carol Burnett Show. I was that socially awkward and isolated kid who could have turned to the dark side because no one would listen.

The difference between high school kids in the 1970’s and now isn’t that different. Bullies still bully; druggies still drug. The jocks rule the playground, smart kids lead the class and everyone else in the middle just tries to get by enough to graduate.

Two things that did make me different from my peers and which actually did keep me from going to the dark side, were my 4 wonderful English teachers and my love of writing. All helped me get through some tough years and even tougher social situations.

Teachers do not now, and have never in my mind, gotten the respect and appreciation they so richly deserve. Without that one teacher who told me I was made for great things, or the other who told me someday she would come to my book signing when I “made it big,” I would never have had the courage to show my work – my deepest, darkest secrets and thoughts – to others. I would have continued to hold my work hostage, never letting any prying eyes go through it for fear of ridicule and criticism.

I was lucky. I had four wonderful people guide me towards what made me most happy and fostered that love unconditionally.

If you’ve had a favorite teacher, now, at the beginning of this new and fresh year, maybe you should call them, Friend them, email or snail-mail them and remind them what they did for you.

It’s never too late to let someone know what they meant to you during what has to be the most difficult time in a person’s life: Adolescence!

 

 

 

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January 4, 2015 · 2:30 pm

just one piece of advice…

During an interview recently – and I can’t tell you how much I LOVELOVELOVE saying I was “interviewed!” – I was asked about the one piece of writing advice that has stuck with me and gotten me through publishing hurdles, humps and heartbreak. It was actually difficult to come up with just that one exclusive iota of writing  wisdom that has resonated with me.

My first thought is the one I received from a literary agent many moons ago which I’ve written about before. Although this agent didn’t accept me as a client, she wrote a handwritten note at the bottom of her letter (this was pre-email, folks) stating, “…you are an excellent writer and I have no doubt I will be reading your published works one day soon. It only takes one “yes” to make a difference in your writing career…” I have never forgotten those words.

Another piece of writing advice that comes to mind is when I heard Nora Roberts speak at the National RWA conference in 2014. She was asked how she can be so prolific a writer and what was her secret. She replied, “Put your butt in the chair, your fingers over the keyboard and write. That’s it and that’s all.”  Butt in seat, fingers on keyboard, write. Can it be any simpler than this?

I would guess the piece of writing advice I’ve learned to repeat daily to myself, is actually one I gave myself  many years ago and had nothing to do with writing at the time I came up with it. I call it THE TAO OF NGUNGI ( pronounced na-goo-na-guy). It means, NEVER GIVE UP AND NEVER GIVE IN. I was going through a difficult period of my life and the days ahead looked bleak and scary. But when I started saying this to myself, it resonated loudly and I was able to get through the period relatively emotionally unscathed.

Now, when I want to have a writing pity party for myself, I repeat the phrase as many times as I need to in order to dig myself out of my depressing black hole. By practicing the TAO Of NGUNGI, I have pushed onwards all this years and finally have a publishing contract.

Never Give up and Never give in. One piece of really good advice – for life and for writing.

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January 1, 2015 · 12:53 pm

A non-resolution resolution…

I’m not one to make New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve always believed that if you want to change something at any time – just pull a Nike and DO IT! There’s no real reason to wait until a monday to start a diet, or until the kids are out of the house to write, or anything else. If the thought occurs, put action behind it right then and there.

Can you tell I hate to wait for things??

This year, I’m changing it up a bit. While I’m not making tried and true resolutions, I do intend to change a few things to make my life and the lives of those around me better this year. I call these things INTENTIONS, not Resolutions.

First and foremost, I INTEND to devote a lot more time to blogging. I was on fire last year when I started this blog, but with the passing of the year, I waned a bit. I intend to document here at least 3 times weekly ( sometimes, hopefully, more).

I fully INTEND  to have at least one more book ready for publication by my birthday in May. I’ve got two out to the publisher now, and another one in consideration. I want my current WIP ready to go to the publisher, done and completely perfect ( or as close as I can get) by my 55th birthday.

I INTEND to do two brand new, totally non-Peggylike things this year. One of them will be trapezing, The other is a secret for now. I’ll revel it at the end of February.

I have the fullest INTENTION of being a calmer, less stressed wife and mother this year. I know: this intention is really a challenge, but hey, I’m up for it! With my retirement date set for April 30, I think I will be better able to do this since I won’t have healthcare work issues to occupy most of my time anymore.

I INTEND to live a less cluttered life – physically, emotionally and spiritually. There are many things in my life and surrounding me that I need to let go, get rid of, and not replace. More on those things in later blogs, but suffice it to say I am having a helluva garage sale this spring!

So, my intentions are now written in laptop stone so I won’t forget them or shove them to the back burner. What are your intentions for 2015?

 

 

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December 24, 2014 · 1:39 pm

History and Tradition

Christmas is tomorrow -but you already know that. As a writer, I got to thinking about all the traditions that have been passed down to families over the ages, and all the history behind those traditions. The first storytellers – which is what we as writers are, didn’t have access to laptops, pens or paper. They told and retold their stories and their history to others, over campfires, in caves, huts, and lean-to’s. Year after year, decade after decade, until the stories were able to be recorded for prosperity and for times to come. I tend to think we still do this to this day – the proof is in the number of people who scrapbook – myself included. The recording our of our personal history is shown through practices such as this. I actually have a scrapbook for every year of my daughter’s life until she graduated from college. And each one is full of her own history, which she will be able to look back on some day and teach her children about it.

It’s the same way with Christmas traditions. Most of us still practice things we learned and did as children with our parents and grandparents. My husband’s family always played Hide the Baby Jesus figurine. All the kids were encouraged to search until someone – the ultimate winner- finally did. My friend’s moms had yearly cookie swaps. It was an occasion for the gals to get together, share cookie recipes and swap stores about their year. Many families make  trips into the woods ( or a tree farm!) to choose, tag, and then cut down their Christmas tree.  The telling of the Night Before Christmas on Christmas eve is always a favorite. Some families allow the kids to open just one present on Christmas eve, or their stockings, in anticipation of the day to come.

I have friends who never miss Midnight Mass. The next morning they have a huge Christmas Stratta for breakfast and invite neighbors to come over and share it.

I don’t have a Christmas childhood memory that doesn’t include two things every year in my memory: the Yule log burning on Channel 13 in NYC all of the eve and into the day of Christmas with every single holiday song ever recorded playing in a loop; and Christmas day making the schlep into Brooklyn to see my grandmother. I say schlep because my parents didn’t drive and we had to rely on public transportation. It took upwards of 4-5 hours ONE WAY every year, but we did it. That was our tradition. Christmas at grandma’s house in Brooklyn.

When I got older and was a single girl living in my own apartment my tradition became decorating the tree on Christmas eve. I’d put it up  a few days beforehand, let the branches settle and then play holiday music while I trimmed my tree. I still have many of those original ornaments 35 years later.

When my daughter was born, it became our tradition of have her put the angel on the top of the tree. Her father would lift her up so she could reach the top, I would snap the yearly picture denoting the event, and then the tree was set. Oh, and we always played Hide The baby Jesus, too!

So, as we reflect on the miracle of Christmas this year, don’t forget all the Christmas days that have come before this one.  Remember those things that made you happy as a child and share them with your own children. Don’t lose the simple things to the modern age.  Nothing gives you as warm a feeling as sitting by a roaring fire, the tree decorated with ornamental memories, a mug of hot chocolate in one hand, a child on your lap, as you tell them a Christmas story. Why don’t you tell them Your Christmas story?

And one day, they’ll pass that on to their own children.

History and tradition. Two halves of the same coin.

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December 13, 2014 · 1:24 pm

A few words about editing…

One of my writing Bibles ( and I’m not being sacrilegious here) is a book titled HOW TO WRITE SHORT  – Word Craft For Fast Times by Roy Peter Clark. I’ve mentioned this book before in blogs, but I was re-reading it today and  few key phrases jumped out at me.

I’m currently writing my newest book, and editing the one that came before it. I’ve noticed – as has my editor – that I have a distinctive writing style that sometimes goes on a little longer than necessary. Especially when I say the same thing several ways.

Here’s an example. Moira’s breath quickened, deepened in intensity, the speed of the breaths faster with each inhalation and then exhalation.

Now, aside from being a perfectly AWFUL sentence, I told you the same damn thing three times! Okay, we get it. Moira was breathing fast. I could have just said it like that. Moira was breathing fast. But that sentence has no punch, no pop, no…  Oh, dear, God, I’m doing it again!

Clark writes, “The best place for an important word in a short passage is at the end.” The italics are his.

So, rewriting the above wordy sentence into something shorter, I could have said, Moira was breathing fast. But using Clark’s notion to put the important word last, fast just doesn’t do it for me. Finding words to describe the fast breathing is the next step.  Quickened, accelerated, sped-up are a few ways to describe it. If I resort to the deadly “LY” words, I could say, speedily, rapidly, hastily quickly, swiftly.  So, which word works best for what I want to convey? Maybe none of them. Maybe I need to write a descriptive phrase to indicate what I want to say. But if I do that, I will be assured to over-word my sentence again.

Egads! I hate editing.

Sometimes your first gut instinct is the best way to go, so reworking the tense just a hair, I wrote this: Excitement rolled through her and Moira’s breathing quickened.

Not a bad sentence. Not pulitzer prize winning, but a much better conveyance of what I wanted, than  Moira was breathing fast. A total of 8 words instead of the original  18.

Woot!
Now, onward to the other 90,000 words that need to be edited…

Tedium…the definition of editing!

 

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December 11, 2014 · 12:04 pm

Call me…And I’m not talking about a Blondie song

For anyone who was raised Catholic, as I was, when you hear  someone has received The Call, you immediately know they have been “spiritually called” to join Holy Orders. Either enter a convent or go to seminary.

Now, even though my mother neonatally named me to enter a nunnery ( Margaret-Mary Bernadette, folks ) my Call did not come with an invitation to serve the Lord. No, my call was much different, but no less life changing.

At the 2014 RWA conference in San Antonio, Tx, I had made arrangements to briefly introduce myself to an editor at the Wild Rose Press who was currently evaluating a romance novel submission of mine. I had emailed her and found out she was going to be volunteering at the event and I wanted to meet with her face-to-face in order to thank her for being so gracious to me via all the email “chats” we’d had. When I introduced myself to her, I discovered one of the loveliest women I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. She was not only as gracious as her emails had been, but sweet and kind as well. I thanked her, as I’d planned to do, for being so nice and patient, and she quite literally changed my life in that instant.

She told me that she had “good news for me.”

My heart stopped.

Literally.

I could feel my blood pooling in my feet, swelling them, because it wasn’t being shunted to any vital organs.

She told me that by the time I got home I should have a contract for publication waiting for me in my email. The Wild Rose Press wanted to publish my book.

Now, my brain stopped functioning from lack of blood. And shock.

I don’t know how long I stood there just staring at her. The poor woman probably thought I was having a stroke or some kind of medical emergency. All around us was the noise of the conference: people walking by, laughing and talking, heading to their next course; hotel workers moving about, delivering water jugs to the classrooms they were setting up; people checking into the conference.

After what seemed like a lifetime – but was probably just a few seconds – I found my tongue. I said, in a shaky voice, “there have been two times in my life I have been speechless. The first was when my boyfriend “told me” we were getting married, not asked. And the second is right now.”

I hugged her. I couldn’t help it. I was so overcome, I didn’t even realize I pulled her into my arms until she was there. And, as before, she was gracious and kind.

She had to get back to her volunteering and I had to get to my next course, so we parted, each saying we would be in touch.

I went to class. I can honestly tell you I have no idea what it was and have no memory of even being in it. After that I went up to my hotel room.

As I played the brief meeting out in my mind, I began to wonder if I had hallucinated it. I really did. I didn’t tell any of my RWA chapter mates who were at the conference as well, keeping my secret hidden – just in case I had imagined the entire two-minute event.

I didn’t want them to think I was suffering from delusions. It was bad enough I thought I was.

I got through the rest of the week and headed home. Sure enough, when I got there and checked my email there was a contract proposal waiting for me.

Third time in my life I’ve been speechless? When I opened and then read that email.

To say my life has changed since this is a totally inadequate way of conveying what has happened to me. My first romance novel SKATER’S WALTZ, book 1 in the MacQuire Women Series will be published in early 2015 and book 2, THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME, later in the year. I have officially given in my resignation to my day job, effective in April 2015 so that I can no pursue the lifelong passion I have always wanted to pursue.  I’ve begun learning valuable marketing tools to sell my books, and I now know the difference between an algorithm and branding. These days my head is not only full of plot lines and character profiles, but social media sites that promote authors and help with book sales.

In the Catholic faith, THE CALL is a life-changing, spiritual event. And although I didn’t immediately don a habit and enter a nunnery, my Call was no less  life-changing and spiritual.

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