Beth Carpenter Books

A new year is upon us, the traditional time for New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve been around long enough to have made a lot of resolutions, with mixed results. So instead of resolving to lose weight or get rid of clutter (because they've worked so well in the past) I've decided to focus on three resolutions that will make me a happier person. I do have specific professional and personal goals in mind for 2015, but while I’m working on those, I resolve … 1) To put my head down and bull through the work that needs doing,  but remember to pop up often to touch base with the people in my life. 2) To take time to notice the beauty in nature, big and small. 3) To share my abundance and give thanks for the sun, the rain, and the wind  ... and most of all, for love and laughter.   Happy 2015!

Christmas is almost here, and I'm almost ready. I've been wrapping the last few gifts and baking cookies, and more cookies, for all the neighbors on our cul-de sac. Raspberry thumbprints, chocolate jam bars, oatmeal Florentines, lemon spritz, and chocolate dipped cranberry slices, plus a few dried fruit/almond chocolate clusters for my gluten free neighbor. Now they're all packed in bags and ready to deliver tomorrow.  The tree is up. Because of a trip in early December, we were late shopping for a tree, and the one we ended up with shed a lot of needles and looks a little skimpy around the bottom, but it smells wonderful. Besides, it's not the tree but the memories that make the magic.  So I'm going to take a moment to sit and drink a cup of tea ...  and admire the tree.  So many ornaments with so many memories... The one my husband's grandmother embroidered when our son was born ... The souvenir ornaments collected on trips  ... Th...

The sign says: PUBLIC DISPLAY OR CONSUMPTION OF ALCOHOL STRICTLY PROHIBITED Young Bull Bison at Caprock Canyon State Park, Texas So, how do we explain this? Bull Moose at Windsong Neighborhood Park, Anchorage Alaska                                Or this? Ah, the things we do for love. 

I grew up on fairy tales and fables. I loved those stories, of the Boy Who Cried Wolf, the Lion and the Mouse, the Goose that Laid the Golden Eggs. But I have to wonder about exactly what some of them were trying to teach. Everyone knows the story of the Tortoise and the Hare.  In the race, the hare takes off and leaves the tortoise in the dust. The hare gets so far ahead, he decides to show off my taking a nap just before the finish line. In the meantime, the tortoise plods along and manages to slip over the line before the hare realizes what’s happened. The moral is supposed to be “slow and steady win the race” but it seems to me the real moral is “don’t get cocky.” Then there’s the Princess and the Pea. In this story, a girl shows up on the castle doorstep in a foreign kingdom, claiming to be a princess, and catches the prince’s eye. To test her, the queen puts her in a bed with seven mattresses stacked atop one another, but with a pea hidden beneath the lowest mattress...

 On a recent road trip, we stopped by Tonto Natural Bridge. It's hidden deep in a canyon in central Arizona. That's it on the right. It doesn't look too impressive until you realize that those little dots deep inside the arch are people. This shot was taken from an overlook maybe 200 feet above the creek. The travertine wall formed as a constant spring deposits calcium carbonate onto the trees and roots that grow there, encasing them in rock. It grew until it formed a dam in the creek, but the constant wear of the creek eventually wore a hole through the wall and created the bridge.  It's still growing. The little spring continues to deposit minerals and drip over the bridge, while down below, Pine Creek keeps flowing. Calcium carbonate is the same stuff that makes white spots on your bathroom fixtures and plugs your pipes, but here, it's creating a miracle. And it's not the only natural wonder in the canyon. The spring dripping down a canyon wall has...

Image courtesy of NPS It’s windy today. Driving through downtown, I saw a dozen ravens surfing in the air above the buildings. I see them often, hanging out near bluffs or large buildings, playing in the surf of the wind. They’re not nesting, or feeding, or protecting their territories. They’re just playing in the wind for the sheer joy of it. Joy.  That’s really what it’s all about. I’m thankful for the big things in my life: for health and family, a loving husband, a comfortable home. But life is made up of moments, and it’s the moments of joy that make life the celebration it is. You’ve seen it. It’s the way a baby’s face lights up when he spots his mother. It’s in the way certain soccer players manipulate the ball, reveling in their athleticism.  It’s the perfect focus of a Labrador on the ball in your hand, waiting for the throw.   It’s the squeal of a child on a swing, pumping higher and higher until she almost flies. It’s that first taste of a perf...

I wrapped my first Christmas present today, and I've already baked and frozen three kinds of cookies. I know, I know. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet and I’m rushing the holiday, yadda, yadda, yadda. I sometimes say the same, but secretly inside, I’m a little kid who just can’t wait for Christmas.   So are some of the characters in my books. In  Family Planning   (which is on sale through Dec. 7th) ,  Donna has met the man of her dreams and moved to Flagstaff to start anew, only life gets in the way. The story starts and ends at Christmas. Here’s a little excerpt. “Christmas cookies?” Blake looked at her suspiciously. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” “One of whom?”  “One of those Christmas people.” Donna started a pot of decaffeinated coffee. “You mean those annoying people who bake cookies and decorate everything in sight and wear ugly Christmas sweaters and go around singing carols for the whole month of December?” “Yes, those people.” “I’m ...

Ten Things I Love about Autumn Warm shades of red, gold, and brown Frosty mornings and crisp sunny days Baked apples More gourds than I know what to do with Cuddly mornings under the quilt The scent of wood smoke Plans for Thanksgiving Bringing nature inside Vees of geese flying over Hints that Christmas is coming

Halloween is behind us and November is here, which means Thanksgiving is just around the corner. For the first time in a very long time, neither of my kids will be with us. Instead, we plan to spend Thanksgiving with my husband’s mother. This takes me back to my first Thanksgiving with his family. We were in college and hadn’t been dating long. I was just starting to get to know his family and working hard to convince them I was good girlfriend material. His mother set a beautiful table and the food was wonderful. The next day, she suggested we try a recipe she'd cut from the newspaper for Turkey Frame Soup. We spent a good part of the day preparing the bones, chopping vegetables, and rolling out and cutting homemade noodles. When dinnertime came, we gathered the family together and served the soup. It tasted like dishwater. Everyone ate quietly, too polite to comment. Finally my future husband turned to me and said, “Thank you for making this for me. Please don’t e...

On the   100 Acre Personality Quiz  I discovered I'm a Kanga. It's not far from the truth, except that kids don't know not to misbehave around me. Just the opposite, really. I say, "Everyone gather around me here at the table," and three-fourths of the children ignore me. Where do you get one of those "I mean it" voices that successful teachers and coaches use?  It was the same with horses. I spent my childhood dreaming of owning a horse someday. Rather than an imaginary friend, I had an imaginary horse, Jerina. White, graceful, with the delicate face of an Arabian, the two of us galloped effortlessly across the farm. My parents finally got me a real horse when I was fourteen, and I discovered I have little talent for riding. I took good care of Lady and she was fond of me, but many of our rides turned out to be long arguments about where and how fast we should be going. She felt her opinion was at least as valid as mine. When my cousin or anyone who k...

We just returned from a visit to various relatives, including my husband’s grandmother, an amazing woman.  She thinks she was born in 1917, although there is some doubt because she was born at home and her parents didn’t get a birth certificate until a few years later.  Officially, though, she’s ninety-seven, living in an apartment of her own in a senior facility, and doing her own cooking and housekeeping. She still has sharp hearing, a sharp mind, and judging from her geraniums, a green thumb. I want to be her when I grow up. We did a little sightseeing on the trip. We saw Cave-in Rock, a notorious hideout for bandits including the James gang, and some beautiful cemeteries, and lots of corn. But mostly, we chatted. My husband’s grandmother is a walking history book. She was there during the depression, WWII, the moon landing, and everything since, working hard and raising a family. She grew up on a farm, married a farmer, and then after her husband died, went to work...

Our Grand Garden Experiment had an unexpected ending. In late May, my husband and I decided to plant a few vegetables in our garden in Arizona even though we were spending the summer in Alaska. We mulched the garden carefully and set automatic irrigation to provide water. The idea was to come back to okra, sunflowers, tomatoes, peppers, pumpkins, and gourds. The local deer population had other ideas. They found the tender shoots too yummy to resist. No pumpkin, no sunflowers, no okra, no peppers. They left enough of two Better Boy tomato plants that they regrew and bore fruit, but they’re not ripe yet. It will be a race to see if they ripen before frost. And they left the gourds. Boy did they leave the gourds. I only planted two hills of three seeds each, but the gourds have taken over the entire garden terrace, crawled up and down the steps to the next levels, and even climbed a tree. We have green and yellow striped gourds, green gourds that look as if they were dipped hal...

My taste in books leans toward contemporary, or at least stories set in my lifetime, but lately I've been living in the past. Three of my favorite reads in the last few months were historical novels. The Yankee Club is set in New York City during the depression. It features Jake, a detective turned writer, and Laura, an actress, who grew up together in Queens. I Am Livia let me into the life of a powerful woman in Rome during the ascention of Caesar August. An Orphan's Tale takes place in Paris in 1834 and introduced me to all levels of society, from a street urchin to nobility. Three stories, all different, and yet each let me into the lives of fascinating people in other times and places.  For my reviews and links to these and other books I've enjoyed, check out the  Book Reviews Tab .  

I’ve long ago decided the only way to keep sane is to find the humor in life. I think an individual’s sense of humor is as unique as his fingerprints. My husband likes to play with words, puns, and double meanings. My son’s wit is more biting, especially when he spots pretension or lapses in logic. My daughter has a gentle humor, but with an eye for the ridiculous. Even the dog has a sense of humor. “Don’t ever let me catch you on that bed.” Roxy must have taken that to heart, because I’ve never caught her. Yet every single day , the covers are ruffled, and sometimes I even find a dog toy hidden under my pillow. Keep in mind that I work from home. She’s obviously slipping into the bedroom while I’m occupied in the study. Apparently, the joke never gets old. I’m thankful to be surrounded by people (and dogs) that don’t take themselves too seriously. I hope the characters in my books reflect this. Because, if you’re paying attention, you can’t help but notice that life is funn...

I got a lovely surprise today. My neighbor, who has a set of terraced gardens in her front yard, called and said she was going out of town for the weekend. Could I do her a favor? Pick (and eat) all the strawberries growing there so they don’t go to waste. Yes, she actually made it sound like I was doing her a favor. These aren’t the plum-sized giant berries I’ve been finding in the store lately. These are concentrated, extra-strength berries, each thimble-sized berry containing the flavor equivalent of a large commercial fruit. The fragrance alone is worth the effort. I picked a big bowl full and now we get to eat them. Strawberries and cream. Berries in our cereal for breakfast. Maybe a fresh strawberry tart with a cream cheese filling. Rhubarb from my backyard with strawberries in a pie. I’m drooling. Tonight we celebrate summer with dinner on the deck. Barbeque chicken, potato salad, beans, spinach, and fresh strawberries with homemade shortbread and whipped cream. The sun wo...

One of the sounds of summer at my house is a rumbling in the skies. No, not thunder. Thunder is rare around here. I live about a mile from an air force base, and every July means the air show. I’ve attended a couple of times, but usually I just go outside on my deck to watch the jets tear across the sky  in close formation. They’re moving so fast, I see them before I hear them. By the time the sound arrives, they’re moving out of sight. As I stand there on the second story deck waiting for the jets to appear, it's interesting to watch the people enjoying a summer Saturday. One neighbor mows her lawn, another unpacks after a fishing trip. A couple walks their dog, and a boy rides by on a bicycle. As the roar of the jets dies away, I can hear the children giggling at the playground in the park. It reminds me of books I’ve enjoyed. There are the thrillers, like the Da Vinci Code. Just as I’m in awe of the skill of the pilots to fly in formation at almost the speed of soun...

Well, my black-eyed pea luck finally ran out. My ABNA entry, Recalculating Route , was a casualty in the final 95% cut. It’s been a great run and I did get a nice Publisher's Weekly  review out of it, so overall I’m pleased with my first writing contest. Of course, I wish I could see the scores, to know just how close I was to the final five in my category. Did the finalists get all fives? Did it come down to tie-breakers? Is there a particular weakness I should work on? Maybe it’s better for all the quarter-finalists that we don’t know. We can tell ourselves that we might have just missed the cutoff, that if we work hard we can make it next year. That’s the danger and the thrill. I’m hooked now. It’s like winning at bingo or slots on my first try. I can’t wait to try again. Fortunately, luck only plays a part in this gamble, so talent, hard work, and hours of writing and rewriting won’t be wasted.  Even if I get knocked out in the pitch round next year, the extra m...

I just returned from a short trip to Bryce Canyon National Park. The scenery there is incredible, the erosion through layers of multicolored rock creating fairy-tale castles against the canyon walls and multi-hued vistas that seem to stretch on forever . Surrounding the canyons in this highland, dense ponderosa pine forests cover the hills.  One image that stuck with me was of wildflowers growing under the skeletons of charred trees. The tall pines were gorgeous, but as long as they shaded the forest floor, the wildflowers couldn’t grow. After the burn, the flowers took advantage of the sunlight to create a beautiful display of their own.  Sometimes when I’m writing a story, I build whole forests of description or conversations that I love. It seems as though the words just flow so easily in those moments, and I can see or hear the passage clearly in my mind. However, once I’m editing, I occasionally find that those passages don’t really add much to the story or further...

I've received my official second prize, a Publisher's Weekly review of the Recalculating Route Manuscript. I'm pleased. See what you think. ABNA PUBLISHERS WEEKLY REVIEW Widow and former home economics teacher Marsha Davison is still trying to recover from the death of her husband, Eric, 19 months earlier when she meets Ben Mayfield, a wealthy retired geologist who invites her on a road trip along old Route 66. The ex-husband of a dear friend, Ben’s courtly manner and sense of adventure intrigue Marsha. Although initially she declines, Marsha decides to throw caution to the wind and she and her dog, Lindy, go along for the ride. After a nearly three-month jaunt on the road, Marsha returns to her home in Sedona, Arizona, and Ben to his in Texas, planning another roadtrip -- an East Coast one this time -- for the fall. But soon after returning to their respective homes, Marsha and Ben soon realize that their relationship is far from being a simple friendship, it’s turned t...

As I wait for the next round of ABNA to be announced, I’ve been thinking about the contest and what the experience has taught me. Here are a few lessons I've learned: 1. You can’t win if you don’t enter . It’s scary to put your writing out there, open to criticism and drama, but the whole point of writing is to share the story with an audience. Will the reviewer at Publisher's Weekly love it or hate it? We'll see. 2. A pitch is not a synopsis. A pitch’s job is to sell the book, to give the reader a taste of what the book is about and why they would want to read it. Clarity, brevity, and voice are important. 3. Writers are generous people . Of course, some writers are selfish, mean, and petty too, but through the forums I’ve seen so many that freely give their time and efforts to help other writers with no expectation of payback. 4. All feedback is useful. Sometimes criticism hurts, and sometimes it should be taken with a grain of salt. One person may ha...

I’ve started to take a real shine to black-eyed peas. Back on New Year’s Day, in spite of my historical dislike for the spotted legumes, I tried a new recipe for Hoppin’ John and ate my black-eyed peas for good luck. My, how it’s paid off. My book has just moved into the quarter-final round of Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards. I never expected to make it this far. Out of 10,000 original entries, 500 (100 in each category) are still in the running. So far, they’ve been judged on the pitch and an excerpt from the first few pages of the book. Next, someone from Publisher’s Weekly will evaluate and review each of the manuscripts, and the top five from each category will move to the semi-finals. My original post about  black-eyed peas  talked about taking chances and trying new things. New things are scary. Writing a book was scary. Publishing with Amazon so that anyone out there can read and criticize it was scary. Entering the contest was scary, but I’m so glad I did...

After a month of obsessively dropping into the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award forum for the latest gossip, I peeked tonight to find the titles moving into round two have been posted, half a day earlier than expected. I opened the romance list and …(drum roll, please)  … I’m in ! This is just the first cut, from ten thousand entries down to two thousand, based entirely off the pitch. I’m sure there were many excellent books, probably better than mine, that didn’t make the cut. Still, it’s gratifying to know the editors found my concept interesting enough to move to the next round. Next is the excerpt round in which judges score the first five thousand words of the book and the top five hundred contestants move on. Viners, top Amazon reviewers, will serve as judges and leave two reviews for each excerpt. I’ve got my fingers crossed that my Viners aren’t adrenaline junkies and maybe have a soft spot for old cowboys. It’s going to be a long wait until April 14 th to find out...