A little rest

Sorry dear readers, I've had a bump in the road and haven't felt up to adding anything to my blog.  Please give me another week and I should be able to catch up.
Don't forget I'll have another new Lindy Lewis Adventure coming out this late fall called The Silence in Birch.
Thanks Lyn

Alone With My Thoughts

The birds are just beginning to sing another announcement of a sunrise, and I can feel the excitement in their chirping.
But here in the coolness as the night ends, loneliness haunts me.
I remember.
And I wonder fearfully, can I start again? Will the smile on my face be real?
I knew love and it was good. Now the pain is here. My body is tired. The lines on my face have deepened overnight, and a little more of the flame has gone out of my eyes.
But you know, as the first tinges of color flow heavenward, I can feel a small flutter in my heart.  Maybe it's a seed of hope...a tiny word, so fragile, but so strong.
My chilled body feels warmer and stronger as a rainbow of colors heighten, and my expectations, suddenly, become aware and sensing.
My early morning thoughts are interrupted by a breathless show of spendor. And, now for just a moment I think I can see a message written in its center.
In God's subtle way, maybe he is telling me, just as natures songs and beauty are everlasting, my hope can be too.
Now the world is hushed, and the silence is warm.
Faces are turned in awe.
It's sunrise.                                                                               Lyn Milller Lacoursiere

Wings and Time

As I look out at the peaceful, serene mountain tops and the black, green forests, your white gingerbread houses with red tile roofs, and the vast blue ocean that flows endlessly into the horizon, I feel as though I have lived here at some earlier time. I am in Norway and even though this country is new and foreign to my eyes, there is a familarity about it. The old world charm of the family visits and the long daylight hours are new to me, but, again it is like some place I've been before. 
I feel a peace in my heart today too, as I sit here in my cousin's home out on a deck near the ocean and have my morning coffee. 
As I look out at the water, and watch the seagull, your majestic mascot, it soars high and then low, up to the top of the universe and down again to the mirrored blue coolness of the water, and I wonder if our Lord, in his graceful way, created the birds for us to learn from.
I wonder if you who live in these quaint houses perched on the cliffs hugging the shoreline, see the same picture as I do, as I watch this beautiful creation silently glide in and out of my view.  This small body of mystery that only  touches down occasionly, and then arches its back and raises it's head to begin, again, another accendsion into the beyond.
This country, my heritage and my roots, does feel strange to me in some ways, and although I share its traditions, our cultures have become so different. But in our hearts we must all have the same feelings, the same hurts and joys, and the same lonliness and pain. 
You too, must have days when you get up at dawn and say pleadingly, "God, help me today, I can't do it anymore." 
Our worlds are miles apart, but our inner struggles must be the same.
Do you sometimes look at this mighty bird gliding smoothly by and wish, to be like it? And then only stop when you are ready, when the surface is firm and sure for your feet to rest on, leaving a flowing memory that is light and carefree. And the soft fluffy covering that protects your heart and soul will always be sheltered by the clouds and the winds of flying high.
Do you sometimes have the same daydreams as I?
Today, I dream to be like a seagull and gleefully feel the breeze of life touch my feathers as I sail down to earth, and then just as swiftly lift my feet and eagerly begin another gently climb into the shifting currants of life and it's splendors.
Or maybe, you already know the secret and that's why you have that burning gleam in your eyes and the radiant glow on your face, as you shade your vision and lovingly look out at the sea.
Soon I too, will learn to fly.
                                                                                                       -Lyn Miller Lacoursiere

Its about my tale.

Occasionally I venture out of my safe haven of books and scattered papers and tell my story. Its a daunting task for me but something I'm told that has to be done as my role as a writer. I'm not a speaker I whisper and mumble to myself!  As I review my notes, and I always need to shop for a new outfit so I feel better, too soon the appointed date suddenly appears and its time. Lord, its scary, but then as I stand there, (looking good I might add) as I tell my story of learning the art and the wondrous elation of finishing a book its worth all the sweat and tears I've shed.  Here's my talk--

            You know, as a writer you have to take time out, get dressed up and go out and market your books.  Until I’d finished my third book, I just hid my work in the closet and closed the door.  I am just happy sitting at my computer in my old robe with a cup of coffee.  

           

            It’s been about nineteen years since I started writing.  Prior to that, I had just written checks, grocery lists and an occasional greeting card.  I had been watching Oprah one day and she was talking about journaling and how benefiual this was for your health, and how it put order in your life.

            Now, I had been a widow for several years, and for the world I put on a good front, but I was still dealing with the silence in my life at home. She said go out and buy a tablet of any kind and a pen and start writing. And so I did: I bought yellow legal tablets and Pilot pens and wrote;   I wrote about my sadness, my grief, my loneliness, and ESPECIALLY my anger for being left in this situation.  I had been so happy and now I had to fend for myself.

           

            I wrote and rewrote, and over time I had a tall stack of tablets.  I wrote about all my feelings as I sat at my kitchen table.  I did this for several years, and it was in the days that I smoked, so the room was usually blue with smoke.  

            ----But you know, I LEARNED something very important about myself, I learned to identify my feelings and describe them and put them into words. 

           

            Over time I started writing poetry.  I found I liked the rhyming of words and the cadence.  I still remember a few lines from my first endeavor, and it’s so little and cute.  It went like this; Love is a whisper so close to my heart, a feeling so true to my soul.  That’s all I can remember, but over time I HAD accumulated quite a full book of my work.      

           

            One day, I saw an ad in the Star and Tribune that asked for writers to join a class at the Hennepin Vo-Tech.  Well, I finally got up my nerve to join.  That first time, I walked in on shaking knees and met Maureen LaJoy, the lovely teacher.  And holding my papers in sweaty hands, I read my poetry to her, and she loved it!

           

            Well, I went home on cloud 9.  And from then on in our writing classes, she would give me the ENCOURAGEMENT I needed to continue.  For a time then, I wrote my poetry and thought about trying to get into the greeting card business. Then I tried my hand at writing short stories, and there was one that I just couldn’t find a good ending for, and my writing class bugged me to keep on writing and turn it into book. 

           

            A book, I said, are you nuts?  Write hundreds of pages?  I can’t do that! But you know I thought I’d just add another chapter.  Well,  I just went on and on.

            You know to start a book, you need something to start off with, that will make YOUR READER WANT to turn that all important FIRST page.

           

            As I said, I was a widow and one day as I was mowing the lawn, I saw a post from the ranch style fence in the back yard was lying down on the ground.  I stopped the motor and stood it up, but the darn thing just fell down again. Then as I bent down to the ground TO PICK IT UP again, I saw them, hundreds of big black carpenter ants EVERYWHERE! I was stunned with horror. When I found them dining on the garage wall and the foundation of the house, I called the exterminator. When he saw the huge invasion he said jokingly, “LADY YOU BETTER BURN THEM!”

That was the scene I used to start my first book AND OF COURSE I EMBELLISHED.

            Read the first page of Nightmares and Dreams

            I finished that first book and called it NIGHTMARES AND DREAMS and put it away in the closet, and continued and finished another called Tomorrow’s Rain and put that one away, AND finished the third called Sunsets.

            I DECIDED THEN it was time to dust of the manuscripts that I had hidden in the closet. BUT, I did this with hesitation, because now ---

I was opening up my heart and soul to the readers out there and GIVING THEM PERMISSION to judge me. It was scary.

            BUT IT WAS ALSO MY AHA MOMENT—When I saw that first book with my name on the cover, I really did feel for the first time—I WAS A REAL WRITER!!

           

            I build my characters around people I’ve met, people I know, and of course I embellish. In creating the Lindy Lewis character, I used bits and pieces of my thoughts, my actions, fantasies and a nightmare or two.  Over time she has grown, and I’ve given gave her a lot of pizazz for color and permission to roam the world, endowed her with intelligence and of course, EMBELLISHED. 

           

            Lindy is a brunette by birth, but sometimes a blonde, and sometimes a redhead.  She has been known to completely change her looks if she is starting over in her life. (A change in appearance is like a good cry, she believes.)  She thinks of herself as worldly and always dresses with class.

           

            Reed Conners, the antagonist, is a blend of personalities A former lover from college, now works as a special investigator for the same insurance company she is insured with. Reed enters the picture to take a look at her claim and their story begins.  He dresses in pressed jeans, Italian knit sweaters and western boots and only drinks top shelf.

           

            My books take place in the present day, when my two leading characters are both in their late forties. 

            I would like to read a couple of pages from the fourth in the series called SUDDENLY SUMMER.  

           

            My newest release THE EARLY YEARS goes back in time to Lindy and Reed’s first meeting and

LinkedIn Interview

Hello Friends, please follow this link to an interview posted on LinkedIt by Shelagh Watkins.

https://shelaghwatkins.wordpress.com/2012/03/04/lyn-miller-lacoursiere/

Immobilized in Fear.

It seemed as if hours went by as Lindy sat on the beach afraid to move, when suddenly her mind stumbled back to a childhood memory.
You always need to have an escape plan in mind to find your way back in case you get lost, she remembered learning from her brothers when they played in the woods as kids.
But what good was that now? She didn't have a plan! But she couldn't just sit and wait, it might take hours, maybe all night for this monstrous curtain of fog to clear.
Gathering her wits about her, she forced herself to think rationally. Now if she followed the trail of shells back again along the beach, wouldn't she end up where she started from? She walked forward a few steps then panicked, was she headed in the right direction?
Don't panic, calm down, she whispered. She checked her watch and saw it had been an hour since she'd left her room. Think, she whispered again, now if I walk for an hour, I should end up back at the condo, or, if I'm going the wrong way, well, I'll figure something out then.
Her heart thumped and her breathing came out in short gasps as she walked along, feeling as if any mimutes she'd step through the wall of white. She checked her watch and ten minutes had gone by, then thirty, forty and soon an hour.
She stopped and listened now. Had she gone too far? Or had she just gone an hour in the wrong direction after all?
Totally exhausted and frightened, she sank down on the sand. She'd just stay here and maybe someone would find her. She couldn't go any farther and was just about to give up in desperation when she heard a car honking. A dog barked, and voices suddenly echoed through the billowing gray. Then a breeze blew in from across the water and the darn fog cleared and the boardwalk came into view. Crying hystericaly, Lindy ran the last few steps to her condo and collapsed in her room. She put on a robe and went out on the balcony to sit in the sun to get warm, and she began to relax. But suddenly, her life seemed terribly alien to her.
She was so alone, Mitzi and Mario were forgotten, and she missed her home! The way it used to be when her husband had been alive and the two of them were happily renovating that house. She lay in a chaise lounge, her thoughts far away.
What the hell was she doing here anyway!

On the Hilton Head beach.....

As the new day dawned, Lindy stood on the balcony of her condo in Hilton Head and watched the sun come up over the ocean. For a few seconds the world was cast in pink. Tiny clouds formed a network of while lace in front of the glow, then a long v-shaped parade of pelicans gllided by and gently tipped the white capped waves.
 She dressed  in new white shorts and halter, grabbed her sunglasses and hurried out to the beach for a walk. The sun warmed her bare shoulders and the soft sand cushioned her feet. The tide had been in leaving behind a line of seashells where it had crested, and then receded. She looked awestruck at the vast expanse of blue water and wondered what foreign country it reached to.  Probably Morocco, she thought. She walked on, the shells crunching under her feet, lost in the beauty of her surroundings and feeling the marvelous freedom. And caught up in the magnificence, she didn't notice the fog that had begun to roll in. She was several miles out when the sun suddenly dimmed and the curtain of gray caught up with her. In a matter of minutes it had enclosed around her. She stopped and watched in horror as it swept past her spiraling over the beach, then stood still as it smothered her in dampness.
Everything disappeared; the sky, the beach and the water. Then she realized the landmarks were gone as well. The silence was only broken by the crashing waves as the Atlantic Ocean seemed to be closing in.
Should she scream?  Would anyone hear her?
Her clothes hung wet and her hair in wispy strands. When she looked down she could see her shoes, but when she extended her arm out her fingers disappeared in the heavy mist. She dropped down to her knees in the sand, boxed in on all sides by the heavy drape. Her breath caught in her throat as she huddled on the beach, her hands splayed over the seashell. It seemed as if hours went by as Lindy sat immobilized in fear, afraid to move, lost and alone in a foreign world.