George, my husband of forty-six years, is in the hospital. I took him to the ER Saturday. Surgery Sunday. He may be coming home today.
I’m sure you understand why I have had time or the ability to write a blog.
Prayers will be joyfully accepted.
My parents didn’t teach me to hate. Thank you!
My parents didn’t teach me to hate
I look back over the years and realize what an amazing statement this is: my parents didn’t teach me to hate. Never once did I hear a word against any group or people, religion or race. I didn’t grow up with the burden of prejudice. I didn’t have to unlearn the lessons of racism.
You may not think this statement makes my folk sound special. I hope your parents did the same.
What makes this fact remarkable is that my father was born in 1904 and my mother, in 1907, hardly years of openness and acceptance of others. I was born in the 1940’s and grew up in a world filled with bigotry and hatred, in a world of separate restrooms and in a city where the public swimming pool was closed because white people didn’t want to swim with black people. Because of the way my parents raised me, I didn’t understand why anyone would object to this. Thanks, Mom and Dad.
I thought of this again about a week ago when I watched a PBS program about Oscar Hammerstein. He was a man born in 1895, a man ahead of his time, a writer who asked questions and forced discussion on many issues, especially of race and prejudice, in the lyrics of his marvelous musicals.
In 1949, Hammerstein wrote South Pacific. I was born in Kansas City, MO, a little off Broadway, but wonderful touring companies came through. I saw South Pacific in the theater when I was eight. After the show was over, I asked my mother about the song You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught. She told me that some parents teach their children to hate other people, people who are different. I asked her why. She couldn’t explain. Neither can I.
In Showboat written in 1927, Hammerstein dealt with misogyny. Julie, who had “black blood”, was married to a white man, a union which was against the law. I saw this movie when I was nine and couldn’t understand why two adults who love each other couldn’t marry. I still don’t.
My parents raised me in church and taught me that the Gospel means acceptance and love for all, no exceptions.
Thanks, Mom and Dad.
Winner of my book on The Christian Fiction Scavenger Hunt
THE WINNER of The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek is Sharon Miller. Thanks to all who stopped by, liked and/or friended me!
The importance of setting by Diane Perrine Coon
In writing mysteries, the setting usually enhances the characters and the plot. Agatha Christie’s English village represents an entire genre of walkabout crime whereby manor houses, inns, and churchyards are often sited and cited on hand-drawn maps. It would be hard to imagine Inspector Morse or Inspector Lewis without Oxford University as the backdrop. And the bleak rural Scandanavian settings provide Wallander with mood, characterization, and rationale. The ferocious anger and hostility and crumbling building facades within ghetto environments serves as the undercurrent to numerous police/detective series. And Clive Cussler’s NUMA series relies almost totally on understanding of the surface and sub-surface ocean dynamics and modern ship propulsion technology.
In literature, perhaps no one expresses the importance of setting more than William Faulkner, whose Yoknapatawpha County, Mississippi, became not only the 
for his most powerful novels and characters, but also became a place even more concrete and enduring in the mind’s eye than the reality of Oxford, Mississippi, itself. It was the place of giant live oaks and dark swampy forests and expansive yards in front of mammoth columns holding up porches than went on forever. And the entire setting seemed to be decaying measurably within the pages of the novel. Not so long afterwards, Tennessee Williams chose a similar setting for his Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
For romance writers, it seems to me that setting is equally if not more important in developing characters that interact or bounce off one another. My beloved Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer’s many Regency romances depend largely on their expansive descriptions of homes, parks, shops, and costumes of London, Bath, and several villages. Behavior of the characters draws out of these settings naturally and easily.
Recently my sister-in-law, Jane Myers Perrine, established the Texas village of Butternut Creek as the setting for her romantic trilogy – The Welcome Committee…, the Matchmakers….and the Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek. In each case, the houses, the church, the schoolyard, and the public buildings provide a cozy place for her characters to meander slowly into place as they drop their troubling backgrounds and engage with each other in the present safe environment.
While it is true that cruise ships or desert islands may provide a contained setting for a romance plots, one could wonder about how much character development may occur. It is rather like a one-joke movie where the comedy seems more and more contrived. On the other hand, my all time favorite romances include the wild and expansive settings of Romancing the Stone and Jewel of the Nile that include double and triple entendres. And find me a woman of any age that didn’t love Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks in the cityscapes of New York and Seattle – Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail. That valentine heart on the Empire State Building was the ultimate manipulative event in moviedom, but oh was it ever effective. It reminded me of the ice skating scene at the end of Serendipity, where you knew the impossible was going to happen right then.
And speaking of John Cusack and Julia Roberts, which, of course we weren’t, the very constrained setting of the resort in the desert, actually enhanced both the plot and characters in America’s Sweethearts. It was a throw-back to the old Agatha Christie village, a walkabout romance.
Craft Tuesday: The query letter Part 4
I forgot that the first Tuesday in September was supposed to be CRAFT TUESDAY and the last section of Writing the Query Letter. I think I was hysterical as the month moved closer to my October 1 deadline. I’ve submitted the complete to my editor. I’m mostly sane again. Here’s the final section.
This is a short because I’m winding things us AND hoping to be inundated with questions.
Two attachments I always include in the query letter. 1) the synopsis which I’ve mentioned before and 2) a contest/publishing history. At a certain time in your writing life, you will have honors to mention. As your contest wins or finals increase, as you publish in magazines or journals, there will not be enough space in a query letter and any such list will be confusing. In the query letter, mention the really important information: Golden Heart finalist, First place in the Emily. Mention these also on the contest/publishing history page. Repetition doesn’t hurt. I always listed them most recent date at the top. If you’ve written many articles, chose the most relevant and important.
Here’s an examples:
Publishing History of Jane Myers Perrine
Publication
The Mad Herringtons Avalon Books 2002
The Grenade in the Backyard Houston Chronicle 1999
(etc)
Contests (I’ve made all these up)
Manuscript Contest/year Placement/Genre
The Turn of the Gerbil Heart for Love 2004 Third/Young adult
Far Away/ 2003 First
Manny the Man Perfect Hero/2004 Secon/Romance
You get the idea. This is a neat, professional and very clear way to show your past work. Sorry about the alignment of columns–WordPress doesn’t’ like them.
One more thought: keep your query letter simple and easy to understand. An on-line friend put up a letter she was going to send in. The gimmick was that the heroine of the book wrote the letter in her own voice with her own information. I’ve never been more confused because there was no explanation. I didn’t say a word because I was a very newbie at the time and others who knew so much more thought it was wonderful. I bet the editor didn’t. Editors and agents go through thousands of queries a month. If yours is hard to read or confusing, yours will not be read.
THE LAST WORD! In order to interest an editor or an agent, you have to prove your talent. The place to start is with your first contact: a well-written query letter.
Any questions on writing a great query letter?
Workshop on writing humor starts MONDAY!
I’m teaching a workshop on writing humor. The title is What Sheldon and Mary Teach Us About Humor. It starts Monday, October 1 and continues through October 28.
For a preview http://www.savvyauthors.com/vb/content.php?2255-What-Mary-and-Sheldon-Teach-Us-about-Writing-Humor-by-Jane-Myers-Perrine
What’s in a name?
I started Kindergarten with the name Monica Jane Perrine. Monica was the name of my mother’s best friend and Jane was the name of my father’s mother although they called her Jennie. Mom hoped I’d be called Monica Jane but the school quickly disabused her of the possibility of using a double name so I was enrolled as Monica.
I hated the name because from Kindergarten on, my classmates called me Monica the Harmonica. I hope I do not insult any of you who believe a harmonica is truly
the sound of angels; however, I’m not fond of harmonica music unless played by Johnny Puleo and his gang. I decided at the beginning of fourth grade to become Jane. I didn’t tell my parents, just made that change. Mom didm’t know until parents’ night at school when she walked into my classroom the mother of Monica Myers and left as the mother of Jane Myers.
What I didn’t realize back in fourth grade was that people make fun of everyone’s name. The joke about “Jane” that I hate most is when someone says, “Me Tarzan. You Jane,” then laugh and laugh as if this is the most creative joke ever made. To be polite, I’d smile even though I’d heard that hundreds of times. Fortunately, the population is aging and the younger generation doesn’t know about Tarzan and Jane.
Another nicknames I’m not fond of is Plain Jane. Go to an on-line bookstore and search for titles with “Plain Jane” in them. There are dozens and dozens but I will never buy one. I’ve had people in conversation say something like, “Just use a plain Jane envelope,” and I wonder, “What’s wrong with saying a PLAIN envelope?” And, although you 
may think “Jane the Brain” would be acceptable, you know if you’ve seen a picture of a brain, they are not attractive.
All right, all right! I’ll stop complaining. Now it’s your turn. What nickname do people use with you? Do you like it or not or just learn to live with it?
The Christian Fiction Scavenger Hunt Is On!
THE WINNER IS Sharon Miller. Thanks to all who stopped by, liked and/or friended me!
Welcome to the Christian Fiction Scavenger Hunt! If you at any time need to read the instructions for the hunt, please visit www.christianfictionscavengerhunt.com
AND, welcome to my site. I’m Jane Myers Perrine. Delighted to be part of this scavenger hunt! Hope you’ll have fun here!
You may know me from my books at Love Inspired: The Path to Love, Love’s Healing Touch, Deep in the Heart, and Second Chance Bride. I loved those books and hope you’ve read some or all of them!
I’m now writing a series for FaithWords about a young, inexperienced minister who is called to serve a church in the beautiful Hill Country of Texas. This series has been so much fun to write because my husband and I are both ministers. We’ve met some of these (carefully disguised!) people and experienced many of these event in churches we’ve served.
The first book in the series is The Welcome Committee of Butternut Creek which is now available and has had great reviews. It’s been compared to both Jan Karon’s wonderful Mitford series and Phillip Gulley’s Harmony books..
The second book in the series is The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek which will be out in late November of this year.
What should I tell you about myself? First of all, I love to write humor and have really loved using it in these novels. Second, as well as being a minister, I’ve taught Spanish in high school and college. Third, George and I live in central Texas with two spoiled tuxedo cats who rule our lives.
I have a contest on this blog for an advanced reader’s copy of The Matchmakers as well as a set of magnetic bookmarks with scriptures. You’ll get one point for posting here on this blog, one for TWEETING (@perrinejane Please mention Butternut Creek so I know to count you) and one for liking me on Facebook (Jane Myers Perrine). Due to postage, I can only send this prize to readers in the USA or Canada.
About the book: The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek picks up after The Welcome Committee ends. Peoples have asked me if the minister, Adam Jordan, gets married in the second book. Maybe. Miss Birdie, the Widow who runs the church is back. Even if you haven’t read The Welcome Committee, you know her. She’s the lady who runs the church but only because she loves people and is sure everyone will be better off and happier if they do things her way. The other Widows appear and one is added. Leo and Nick still pull stunts and life goes on in Butternut Creek. The parsonage is that Victorian house next to the Christian Church. Sit down, pour yourself a glass of lemonade, and chat a spell.
Each of the books starts with a letter from Adam. Here’s the letter that begins The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek.
From the desk of Adam Joseph Jordan, M Div.
I continue to be a sad burden for Birdie MacDowell. Since I arrived at the church in Butternut Creek seven months ago, I’ve attempted to lift that weight from her shoulders and to correct the many errors she expects me to atone for.
If she were to comment on the first paragraph of this letter, Miss Birdie would point out that I wrote a run-on sentence and ended it with a preposition. Despite my earnest efforts, I have failed her again, at least grammatically.
When I first arrived here in Butternut Creek, called to serve the Christian Church, she saw me as too young and too inexperienced for almost everything. She was correct. She believes she always is. Personally, I’d hoped the passage of time would take care of both of my flaws, but Miss Birdie is not one to wait around and hope for change.
Although she’s never expressed this, an odd omission for a woman who prides herself on her speaking out fearlessly, she knows that a man of my age (too young) and with a sad lack of piety could never act as her spiritual guide.
She’s probably correct. I am woefully incompetent to lead another person to faith when I struggle daily with my own flaws. Thank goodness for grace from the Lord if not from Miss Birdie.
I have discovered a few things in the months I’ve been here. First, I fell in love with this small town in the beautiful hill country of Texas the moment I arrived: the friendly people, the Victorian houses, the live oaks shadowing the streets, the downtown square surrounded by coffee shops and gift stores and antique malls with a few businesses—the barber shop and the diner where Miss Birdie works–sprinkled in.
Secondly, I found out I do possess some skills. I preach a good sermon, teach an interesting adult Sunday school class, have an active youth group, and make much appreciated hospital calls and evangelistic visits regularly. I’ve also improved my basketball game.
But there was one area in which Miss Birdie still found me lacking: finding a wife and producing children to populate the children’s Sunday school classes.
Yes, she wanted me to find a bride. Wanted is an inadequate word here. Even determined doesn’t approach the level of her resolve. Add to that adjective single-minded and unwavering and the total comes close to her desperate need to marry me off. Do not add choosyto that list because she’d marry me off to any single woman still in her child-bearing years who lives within a fifty-mile radius of Butternut Creek. Her task is made nearly impossible by the dearth of single women in small central Texas towns.
Could be she expects God to create a mate from my rib, but that hasn’t happened yet. Nor do I expect to wake up, as Boaz did, to find a bride lying at my feet. Of course, if a woman should appear in my bed, whether at the foot or cozily snuggled next to me, her presence in the parsonage would create a scandal from which neither the church nor I would recover.
Because Miss Birdie has renounced these biblical approaches to finding me a wife, I shudder to imagine what schemes ARE in her fertile and scheming mind. All for my own good, of course.
For the protection and edification of all involved, I decided to document every one of the efforts she and her cohorts, the other three Widows, have made in their attempts to find me a mate. In addition, this book will cover my next year as minister in Butternut Creek, my search for experience and a wife as well as the joy of living here with the wonderful people who inhabit this paradise.
I send it off with my love and my blessing and in the desperate hope that someday Miss Birdie will smile upon me and say, “Well done, Pastor.”
For your next clue, go to http://vickiemcdonough.com/www.vickiemcdonough.com/CFSH.html
A little late blogging today
I woke up this morning and realized this is Tuesday, my day to blog and I had nothing!
There is a good reason. I bought a new car. By new car, I mean new to me.
Twelve years ago, George bought me a brand new yellow Ford Focus. I love cars in bright colors both because they make me happy and because I can find them easily in a parking lot. It worked wonderfully. Never had to spend money except for oil changes and new tires.
Until two years ago. My battery kept running down. I had to have it jumped every three or four months and bought four new batteries. At the same time, when I got into the car and before I put the key in the ignition, the radio would come on. I believed the radio was draining the battery so set an appointment with the radio specialist at the dealership to check it. He said (I paraphrase here), “Lady, you’re nuts. There’s nothing wrong,” because—in my experience–mechanics never listen to women. I could go on and on about this but I won’t in this blog.
And yet, the radio kept turning on and the battery kept running down. I had the radio removed. Didn’t change things and still no one could find a reason for this. Yes, I know it was a short in the electrical system but, “Lady, there’s nothing wrong with your car,” but they couldn’t explain the new batteries. I had to keep AAA on speed dial.
I’m on deadline: October 1 for The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek. When the car wouldn’t start last Wednesday, I had it jumped and drove it for thirty minutes, I thought the charge would last three or four months and I’d have plenty of time to look for a new car after October 1 because it was obvious I need a car that starts without the aid of jumper cables.
But the charge didn’t last. Saturday morning, the battery was dead again.
Monday, we bought a new (to me) car, pictured above. It’s a 2008 Mazda 3 and is so pretty and clean but it’s white! In the picture my dear husband took, my Power Cat (the logo of my Alma Mater, Kansas State University) shows up beautifully against the white.
But the car is white and I won’t be able to find it in the parking lot. My plan is to do something on the roof of the car to identify it. I’m thinking a purple stripe to match the Power Cat. I should be able to pick that out in a parking lot.
I am open to suggestion. What do you think would brighten up and make my new car easier to identify?
What would you take with you?
When Hurricane Hugo headed toward Savannah, GA, George and I packed up and evacuated. When we left, a direct hit was forecast. While we drove west on the packed interstate, Hugo took a right turn and hit Charleston hard.
What fascinated me was how easy it was to decide what we needed to take with us. The two cocker spaniels, of course. Computers, televisions, our photo albums, and a couple of suitcases. That was it. That was what was important. Anything other than the dogs and the photos, we could replace. 
If you had to evacuate and could take only one or two irreplaceables, what would they be? Or, if you have evacuated, what did you take? I like to know.