Just a quickie, before we resume the Guatemalan travelogue.  After serious urging by my publisher and the worry that I might be the only person left in the universe who is NOT on Facebook or other networking sites, the great and powerful wizard (Marna, my brave and true assistant) put up a page for me this week.  Now you can find me on Facebook right here.  Come join the fun and become my “fan.”  (Their wording, not mine, although it has a certain ring to it.) 

We have a place there for discussions and polls, and who knows what else?  Let’s have fun together.

And while you’re surfing the web?  You can also find me at Goodreads.  And Shelfari.  And Red Room.  My blog is also available on my individual book pages at Amazon.  Good grief.

Will there be more?  Will I learn to Twitter?  Don’t count on it.  I’m still not sure what to do with the pages I have.  But I’m learning.  Come learn with me.

See you there!

I promised another side of Guatemala, one of the most multi-faceted places I’ve yet to visit, a country so visually extraordinary that there were few moments when somebody on our trip wasn’t snapping photos.  Since only the men in my family seem to have the photography gene, my photos pale in comparison.  Yet even I couldn’t waste this opportunity. 

Of course almost anyone reading this knows I’m a quilter.  Fabric is my drug of choice.  I can get lost in a quilt shop with three aisles, finding my way out hours later dehydrated and dizzy but blissful.  Especially if I have a bag under each arm.  And so for me, a country in which women weave and sew their own clothing, using designs and motifs that proclaim their individual heritage?  For that part of the trip, I felt as if I were in heaven.

I expected to find fabric and weavings in Chichicastenango, famous for it’s huge outdoor market, and not surprisingly, I did.  But the show began much earlier.  On the streets of Antigua, in the villages of the highlands, at the airport in Guatemala City.  Everywhere I looked I saw color and pattern and history.  This was an extraordinary visual opportunity and I drank in every drop, particularly the gorgeous traditional huipiles.

The huipil (wee-peel) is a tunic-like garment, made from cloth woven on backstrap looms and often embroidered, too, worn over a skirt.  The skirts are created from handwoven cloth, as well, wrapped and cinched at the waist with a belt.  If a huipil isn’t worn, a handmade and embroidered blouse is.  The result is a treat to the eye.  The women wearing them are, as well.
 

Although huipiles were available at almost every craft shop and market, as well as from street vendors, some of the most stunning were displayed at Casa de Artes in Antigua, where the delightful owner gave us an informal tour of both the shop and her beautiful courtyard, and allowed me to take and post this photo.    

Sadly the art of weaving suffered during the country’s civil war when the Army smashed thousands of looms to stamp out this unique expression of Mayan culture.  Women were afraid to create their traditional designs for fear they would be connected to the villages of their origin, many of which had been destroyed.  Luckily for the world, many of the designs and the weavers survived, and are still in evidence everywhere today.

Although I loved the vendors, whose cheerful bargaining became an opportunity to practice my growing Spanish vocabulary, I was on the lookout for real fabric stores where Mayan women shopped.  I found this one in a town bordering lake Atitlan, and shopped in another in Chichicastenango.  Fabric was by far my favorite souvenir, and now I have no excuse not to make the Endless Chain quilt with real Guatemalan fabric, as Elisa does in the novel.  Watch for it on these pages.

Mayan villagers live close to the source of their food, and market day is a feast for the senses.  Next time, a Guatemalan alternative to Krogers and Safeway. 

Some years ago, in the middle of reading a loosely researched novel about New Orleans where “cable cars” zoomed down the “median” on St. Charles Avenue, I decided I would never write about a place I had not, at the very least, visited for an extended time.  In New Orleans we had streetcars, and we had “the neutral ground.” These well-intentioned mistakes pulled me right out of the story, a sin an author hopes never to commit–although sadly, we all do at one time or another. 

For the most part I’ve followed my own guidelines.  I’ve only written about one country I’ve yet to visit, and since I really couldn’t go back in time to Morocco during World War II, I felt somewhat justified for doing it.  I did, though, write about a woman named Elisa Martinez, who was escaping criminal prosecution in Guatemala.  And although Endless Chain wasn’t set there, Guatemala and the country’s recent internal struggles, were a large part of the background. As I wrote the novel, I was sorry I hadn’t traveled there first.

When the chance came to go to Guatemala with a human rights delegation from my church and see the country first hand, I knew from my research that this would not be an easy trip.  We would see the aftermath of a civil war that killed nearly 200,000 people, and left at least another 40,000 missing.  Many of the dead were innocent Mayan villagers whose families are still struggling to put their lives back together.  We would meet with them, and with the courageous people who are attempting to help, despite death threats and a bureaucracy determined to keep this “silent holocaust” a secret.

A trip like this one can be daunting and depressing, or it can be filled with tributes to the human spirit. This trip was both.  Years will pass before I know exactly what I took away from Guatemala besides lovely handwoven fabric and an upset stomach.  But I know the images of men and women trying to find justice for the thousands who are gone, despite danger to their own lives, will never leave me.

As I made my way into one of the very places where Elisa’s husband might have met his death, did I find that I should have been there before I wrote the novel?  I’m really not sure.  As we rounded the corner on one very treacherous mountain road, I looked ahead of me and the entire scene was clear, as if it were really happening, just the way I had written it. 

At the top of the road was the church in these photos.  Inside was a memorial to the many who died years ago in this very spot, in a story that no work of fiction could begin to portray.

I know I was blessed to imagine Endless Chain, to imagine Sam Kinkade and Elisa Martinez and the events that brought them together.  My story brought me to this little church in the Mayan Highlands and, I hope, to a new understanding.

There were so many other and lighter moments on the trip, and I will share them next time.

I’ll confess that all I ever need to hear are the words “Do you want to go?” and I’m ready and willing, passport in
hand.  I have yet to take an international trip I wish I hadn’t attempted.  I’m always excited.  At first.  Then the reality sets in.  Exactly “why” did I think this was a good idea?  Exactly “how” did I think I would find the time to go when I have so many deadlines to meet? 

Exactly “who” is going to be willing to take one mischievous beagle puppy for ten endless days?

Somehow, things always fall in place, just as they did this time when I decided to go to Guatemala.  And from each encounter with a new culture, I learn something about myself that I didn’t know before, as well as a lot about this amazing world we live in. 

All of us need new information and experiences to grow.  Writers need an extra helping or our work turns stale and our imaginations run dry.  What better way to receive both than to travel?

So as you read this, I’ve probably just come back to Antigua from Chichicastenango in Guatemala’s highlands, where I visited and enjoyed their famous market.  Most of my trip will already be over, and the stories will be settling into place and shading the writing to come.

I am sure I will be thrilled I made the effort.  And Nemo will be thrilled to see me again.

Through the magic of the Internet, and the help of Marna, my valued assistant, you’re viewing this post when I’m not even home to send it.  Instead I’m in Guatemala, on a church-sponsored trip dedicated to learning about the struggles of the Mayan people after the political turmoil and yes, deaths of thousands. 

You may have read my novel Endless Chain, book two of the Shenandoah Album series.  Elisa Martinez is a woman on the run from her past, and her story is directly connected to political events in Guatemala.  Before I chose to make Elisa Guatemalan  I immersed myself in the country’s history.  The more I read, the more interested–and saddened–I became.  I hoped to visit the country one day to experience it for myself, then filed that hope away for another time.

Sometimes all you have to do is ask. . .

Due to the determination and energy of several people in our congregation, 13 of us are now staying in Antigua, learning what we can, enjoying the hospitality of the Guatemalan people, and lending what energy and support we have to those who are working hard to make life better here. 

Oddly enough, for once I’m walking in the footsteps of my own character, a change for an author who is far more used to having her characters walk in hers.

The trip is not all study and reflection.  There will also be shopping.  Guatemala is a paradise for fabric lovers and quilters, and for those who value handicrafts.  By now, I’ve probably found the stall pictured here and done some serious damage to my stash of cash.  So be it.

I’ll share another blog before I return, but when I come back, not only will I be loaded down with fabric, there will be photos and stories.  

You can bet on it.

I have the best career.  If I’ve had a bad day, I can quietly and efficiently make it better.  Without lifting more than a finger (or ten) I can make certain that somewhere, justice prevails.  I can even, if I’ve had a particularly awful day, make sure that somebody I’ve grown to despise is forced to pay the ultimate price.  How satisfying is that?

At the other extreme, if I’ve had a great day, if small children have offered me flowers, puppies have cavorted at my feet and I’ve glimpsed long-married seniors kissing in the park, I can quietly and efficiently capture that feeling and make sure that people who should fall in love, do. 

When I’m at my computer, the world is mine. 

I’m asked, and often, why I started writing mysteries when my career began in romance and moved into longer relationship novels.  For a more detailed version, you can check out today’s blog at Fresh Fiction, where I’m the guest blogger.  My piece is entitled Why I Became a Serial Killer.  Do take it with a grain of salt. 

Yesterday I finished a synopsis for my newest women’s fiction idea, tentatively called The Treasure of Happiness Key.  We’ll see if my publisher keeps that title.  (Shall we take bets?) Treasure, is a story about friendship, even while it has a strong suspense plot brewing. But while I was typing away, A Lie for a Lie, about murder and the lies we tell to save ourselves, was hitting the shelves.  “Lie” is the fourth in my Ministry is Murder series.  Aggie Sloan-Wilcox is a free-spirited minister’s wife in a small Ohio town.  Murder seems to follow her everywhere. 

Yes, the books revolve around church life; no they are not meant to be inspirational novels, although I like to think that the quiet, confident way Aggie and Ed live their lives is inspiration of a sort.  But you’ll have to pardon me when I say that I find churches to be funny places.  Funny in every sense of the word.  And yes, I’m intimately connected to the institution, being married to a minister myself.  For decades I’ve watched the comings and goings, and I can truthfully say that what happens in churches is a microcosm of the world around us.  Which is why I chose to set my series in one.

Can you tell from the cover what kind of mystery this is?  Indeed you can.  Light on violence, heavy on characters, color and humor.  These are my feel better books, and even when I go to my computer with a heavy heart, it’s lighter by the time Aggie and I have spent some time together.

I hope they do the same for you.

By the way, when you read A Lie for a Lie, pay careful attention to Sister Nora and her honey, Yank.  Then go to my contest page.  If you answer a simple question, you’ll have the chance to win a delightful musical water globe. 

Happy reading.

Yesterday when my husband told me to look outside, I expected to see one of our local foxes.  Or deer.  Instead look who was visiting.  Unfortunately the SIZE of this guy isn’t clear.  Our blue heron friend was about five feet tall.  I’ve never seen a larger one.  I was thinking ostrich.

The photo is taken through my window and screen, but moments after I snapped it, he flew away.  I’m surprised his wing spread didn’t create a pseudo-eclipse.

Did I mention I live in a suburban neighborhood in Northern Virginia, about 10 minutes, as the blue heron flies, from the White House?  My son, who lives a mile and a half from a paved road, says we see more wildlife here than he does.

So why did Mr. Heron visit?  Because we have a pond.  A pond without fish.  Last year, one of his buddies made a stop.  Moment of silence, please, for the quickly departed.  Hint here, if you want a pond AND fish, a pipe of some sort for the residents to hide in is a good idea.  Even if you live ten minutes from the White House.

Lagniappe.  It’s everywhere!  Tell me about yours.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. . .  Shhh. . .  Come closer.  You can make a quilt.  Yep, YOU.  Okay, so you’ve never done it before.  Well, everybody had to start somewhere, right?  And I’ve got just the place for you to begin.  One block a month.  That’s all you have to do.  Two a month if you’re feeling perky and want to make the larger version.  More than that?  Sure, why not?  This is a simple quilt, as forgiving as a grandmother.  You can make a million mistakes, and it will still be delightful.

Intrigued?  I hope so.  Here’s the story.

Talented quilt designer Pat Sloan and I are offering a block of the month pattern, just for the folks who visit our websites.  You can read the whole story here of how we met, how we conceived the project–the photo is us at Macy’s after a working lunch–and how it relates to Sister’s Choice, my July 2008 novel from Mira Books.

Suffice it to say that we are sure this is something you’ll have fun with, or we wouldn’t have bothered.  There’s lots of room for creativity as well as mistakes.  And there will be a community of quilters to help you and to share photos of your quilt with.

The year long project is called A Season of Grace, after Grace Cashel, the woman who designed a similar quilt in Sister’s Choice.  Okay, okay, if you’re too busy to go to my quilt studio and read more, I’ll tell you this much.  A Season of Grace is an Advent quilt.  You’ll have the
choice of making twenty-five blocks, or just twelve.  You also have the choice of doing the quilt two different ways.  The larger version–first two stockings shown here–has removable stockings that you can fill, so that the child in your life has something to do in December while she or he waits for Santa Claus. 

Or that special man. . .  Or your houseguests. . .  The possibilities are endless. 

So come and join us.  You know where my quilt studio is.  You’ll find Pat’s here.  Pat and I will take turns offering the blocks.  She begins with our February block pattern, and in March, you’ll find the next pattern on my website.  Guess why?  Of course.  We want you to visit both our websites, so please don’t print and share with your guild.  Ask your quilter friends to visit us, too.  Pat’s website is a treasure trove of fun.  Lots of quilting tips and patterns, gorgeous fabric she’s designed, and lots of how-to books.  Mine?  Well, hopefully you know all about mine.  If not, dig in.

Pat’s set up for lots of comments, but you are welcome to comment here on this or any of my blog posts, or you can email me directly from my website.  You may have to wait a bit for an answer, because I’m going to Guatemala, to walk in the footsteps of Elisa Kinkade from Endless Chain.  But as soon as I’m back, I’ll help if I can. 

I am quilter, hear me roar!  Let’s hear you, too!