Here’s the cover for the third Ladies of St. Jude’s Abbey book as it was published in Italy.  The fourth book is scheduled to be published in November 2008.

Here is the same book’s cover from when it was published in Germany a few months ago:

And, just to remind everyone, here’s the original Signet Eclipse cover — my favorite among the Ladies of St. Jude’s Abbey.

I just sent in a proposal to my agent, and now it’s time to clear my mind, clean my desk, and just generally come back to the real world.  You know that feeling you got when you were a kid and hid under a blanket…and then flipped the blanket back and got a whiff of fresh air?  That’s kind of how I feel after a marathon writing session.  This proposal was written in first draft in less than a week.  Then it was two weeks of leaving it alone to disconnect myself with it, so I could come back and do a final draft.  Spellcheck, and send it off.

And then I face the post-ms tasks.  The biggest one is always trying to catch up with email.  I guiltily admit that I’ll answer the quick emails while in the creative spurt, but the longer ones - the ones that come from friends, I’m admitting even more guiltily - tend to pile up.  While I tackle that, I also have to clean my office.  No matter what I write, somehow, reference books pile up like an Escher staircase.  Amidst them is unopened mail - it’s amazing how many credit card applications arrive in a couple of weeks - and half-read books.  So I do a few emails, and then I put one of the gigantic piles of books, mail, etc. away.  Back and forth until everything is down to a manageable size.

How long this takes always depends on how itchy I am to start the next project - or how soon that project is due.  But I know the signs of needing to get back to work - a true case of attention deficit disorder where I can’t even read my favorite authors’ work,  impatience with the rest of the world, and characters clamoring for attention in my head.  By the time all of those get unbearable, I’m back at the computer, typing up scenes and character descriptions while I try - and fail - to keep up with email and pulling books off my reference shelves along with a stack of sticky notes so I can begin the research.  And I’m back to writing again…

The Bridestones are an interesting geologic oddity on the edge of the North York Moors.  Set up on rolling hills, they are what remain of ancient cliffs worn away by wind and rain.  Twisting and hulking, the Bridestones stand like ancient guardians over the forest.  Some are gathered in groups of two or three.  Others stand alone.

It’s hard to tell the size of these from just the photos, so here are a couple with people in the them.  First Bill at six feet tall, and then a group of middle school aged kids with their teacher.

Here are a few other favorite views of the moors.  First, a ford.  We encountered many of these, and in this photo, you can see the marker that designates how high the water is.  This ford was at the base of a narrow valley with steep hills on either side, so it boggles the mind imagining the water rising to the top of the sign.

Remember my comment about daffodils blooming in April in Farndale?  Clearly they take their daffodils seriously.  We had a good laugh when we saw this sign at the side of the road.

All the moors aren’t desolate.  Some of the land has soil thick enough for grazing or crops as you can see from this shoulder of the moor dropping down into Farndale.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t include a picture of sheep.  Bill jokes that I’ve taken a picture of every sheep in England.  Not quite…

Because the moors are open grazing, you’ll often see signs like this along the narrow, twisting roads.  They’re there for a good reason.  Sheep would never be the butt of a joke like “Why did the chicken cross the road?” because they usually stop in the middle of the road.  The tarmac is warm, so it’s especially appealing to them in the spring when they take “roadbed” to mean exactly that — a place for a nap.

But we spent one last afternoon away from the wilds of the moors and went to Scarborough.  As in Scarborough Fair.  It’s now a typical seaside English town with hotels of all varieties and lots of tacky tourist shops, chippies, and arcades along the shore.  In other words, lots of fun to visit.  But above it all, there’s Scarborough Castle lurking along the cliff.

And it was in Scarborough along the beach, that I had a Doctor Who moment, even though the TV show is filmed in Cardiff, Wales, on the opposite side of England.

We visited the North York Moors for two vastly different days, two days in a row, but so very different.  On the first, the wind was howling - close to 70 mph on the highest reaches of the moors.  The next day was serene.

Being out in the wild weather seemed to appeal to everyone, especially as it was a dry wind with no rain.  We had lunch at The Lion Pub high on the moors with many walkers who were braving the elements to take the footpaths across the bleak moors with only an ordnance map and the boundary markers to show them the way.  Later when we went up to Danby Beacon, we paused along the way so I could get pictures looking down at the village of Danby.  We were surprised and delighted to find a group of friends playing both cricket and bowls on the steep moor side.  I trust the beer they had with them helped ease the pain of chasing the cricket ball down the hill time and again.  Everyone was laughing and thrilling in the wind.

Danby Beacon is where in older days signal fires were set.  From the clear spot there, the view is miles in every direction.  It’s also where we encountered the highest winds.  I could barely stay on my feet, and the wind was so loud howling around my hood that the pictures seem too calm and quiet for me.  The wind was so strong that puddles had waves in them.  You can see how the grass bent in the wind.

The stone in the center of the picture is a boundary marker to show where Danby Estate property begins/ends.

That day, we went out to the sea to enjoy even more wind and whitecaps.  We decided to have supper in Robin Hood’s Bay.  The town is the end point for the cross-England walk which starts to the west in the Lake District.  The walk is about 200 miles long - various signs list different lengths.  The village is set on step cliffs where the sidewalks are often stairs.

The street ends in the bay.  The evening we were there, we were astonished to see wind blowing spray backwards from the whitecaps.

The next day, Monday, was calm, and we went back to see another section of the moors.  It’s so much fun to drive along single track roads where I had to get out and open and close gates that cut across the road.  Also there are fords where you drive your car carefully through.  Upright markers - showing depths up to 6 feet - are a guide for how much water is on the road.

We were thrilled to see a hawk flying across the road.  I tried snapping it, but from the car, the pictures are less than wonderful.  But I thought I’d share one…just because it’s a hawk.

It is flying over the heather that was just showing its first tinges of purple.  We keep talking about going back to the moors either in August when the heather is at its peak or in late April for the amazing daffodils in Farndale.

But the sky was clear and the wind had become a teasing breeze, so we visited Chimney Bank, the steepest hill down off the moors…and rumored to be the steepest road in England.  The chimneys were actually kilns for making ironstone pottery.  Such chimneys are scattered across the moors, but these are the most accessible from the road.  Bill is standing on top to give you some idea of their size.

And here is the view from the top down off the moors.

To finish off the day, we went to Lastingham.  In a previous post “Release Day…and visiting places in the book!” (March 2008), I posted a photo of the crypt beneath the church in Lastingham.  We went back to the Blacksmith’s Arms pub across the road from the church, but first we stopped at the holy well for St. Cedd who, legend says, is buried in the church crypt.  Water still trickles from the lion’s mouth, so we paused and ran our fingers through it before going off to enjoy some steak and ale pie.

Next we visited the City of York…on a very gray and rainy day.  We walked the city wall, visited the minster, and of course strolled the streets, including the Shambles, the medieval area set aside for butchers.

City wall

York Minster from city wall

Partway up to the top of a minster tower

From the minster tower top

Ceiling of Chapter House

Shambles

Our second day in England was spent in Whitby along the North Sea.  To get there from our B&B, we had to cross the moors.  We’ve visited moors in Devon and Cornwall, but the ones in North Yorkshire are the most desolate and resonant most deeply with the reek of time.  On this trip, we only skirted the moors and passed the Hole of Horcum — a deep, broad cut into the countryside.  Legend states that a giant scooped up a “handful” of dirt to throw it at his wife who’d annoyed them.  A hill several miles away is supposed to be where the dirt fell to the ground.

Also at the edge of the moors along the Newtondale Forest Road is an old boundary marker.  It’s shaped like a cross and set just back from the road which at that point is dirt and stone.

Whitby is a town intimately connected to the sea.  There are memorials to Captain Cook throughout, but my eyes always turn to older buildings.  The abbey built up on the cliffs and overlooking Whitby is only a ruin (thanks to King Henry VIII and his destruction of so many church buildings), but it is a glorious one, even when the sun is bright and the sea breeze gentle.  The first view is often from a distance as one drives down off the moors.

Up close the abbey is even more impressive, perched as it is up on the cliffs.  I shudder when I think how cold it must have been on winter mornings.

Next door to Whitby Abbey is St. Mary’s Church.  There are many, many, many St. Mary’s Churches in England, but this one is unique because of its churchyard…and who supposedly slept beneath it.  Perhaps Bram Stoker visited the church on a misty afternoon as twilight turned the fog from silver to gray, but when he wrote Dracula, he had the vampire sleep away the day in this churchyard.

But Whitby in truth is all about the sea.  Whether it’s the town’s famous jet used in all sorts of jewelry or tourists or fishing or exploration, it’s all here.  A harbor divides the two sides of the town set on the cliffs.  Exploring the twisting streets and the shops and the pubs was a wonderful way to spend a day.

Here are some of my favorite photos from my travels this summer.  In June, Bill and I went to Yorkshire to be there for the summer solstice.  Here are my favorite photos from our first day there when the sun stayed up later than we did after our transatlantic flight.

The photos are from Pickering.  Here is the High Street (the British counterpart of Main Street in the US)

Next I’ve added some photos from St. Peter and St. Paul Church.  The wall paintings were discovered in the 19th century by the pastor who is mentioned in Kindred Spirits.  The paintings were done in the Middle Ages to help an illiterate congregation understand Bible stories and lessons.  The pastor who found them had them whitewashed over because — as the story goes — the art violated his Victorian sense of morality.  Fortunately they were not damaged and they have been revealed again for everyone to enjoy…in spite of some of the hellfire messages.

The first night of our arrival in England, we like to visit a familiar pub.  When we go to Yorkshire, our favorite is The New Inn in Cropton.  “New” inns got their names when they were established during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I.  This New Inn also has its own brewery — the Cropton Brewery.  We bought a couple of the glasses for the pub that we’re creating in our house.

I don’t have any trouble falling in love with my characters.  The problem I have is not loving them so much that I can’t see their faults when I’m revising.  I’m not talking about character flaws.  I love characters with flaws they must overcome.  What concerns me is seeing through the character and not hearing his/her voice while I’m doing revisions.

My characters talk to me all the time I’m writing.  They tell me their story.  That’s my first draft - what they tell me.  But when it’s time to go back and start digging more deeply into the story and the characters, I don’t want to be distracted by their seductive voices.  It’s not easy, because I’ve been listening to them for the weeks/months that I’ve been working on the first draft.  I’ve done everything I know how to bring their voices forward so I can catch their unique qualities.  But I don’t want to hear them while I’m revising.

My first drafts usually contain about 90% of the emotion that will be in the finished product, but sometimes the rise and fall of emotional tension doesn’t occur in the right places.  It may be that it overshadows the other elements of the story or it might get lost somewhere along the way and not be available for the big impact moment.  To follow that emotional thread (and all the other threads that make up the tapestry of my story), I need to concentrate.  I can’t allow myself to get swept up in the story that my characters have told me.  Neither their emotions nor my own must get in the way of this clear-eyed revision.

Some of the tricks I’ve learned came from doing page proofs (at hospitals, in the car - No, I wasn’t driving - even at an RWA Board meeting once).  It’s really easy to get drawn into the story when it’s all typed up pretty in book pages.  But if I do, then I can miss something important that needs to be changed/corrected.  So I have found ways to keep myself distracted and alert to mistakes.  It sounds counterproductive, but it works for me.  I’ll do revisions/page proofs in front of the TV.  I’m not watching the show, but the sound and the change from show to commercial and back will keep me from being lured into the story at the expense of the task at hand.  I’ll give myself a limited time to sit at the computer, so I have to get up and do something else.  Even if it’s just refilling a glass of water, it takes me out of the story and allows me to come back with less attachment to the characters.  I also do all revisions long-handed on a printed copy of the ms.  Just the act of turning the pages - very different from paging down on the screen - can keep me disconnected enough so I can see story problems and dropped threads.  Then I put all the corrections into the computer, creating another distraction as I look from screen to page and back, which allows me to see more issues that need to be dealt with in the revision.

These are the only ways I found to fall out of love - temporarily - with my characters, so I can do revisions.