Emery Harper's Blog

Well goodness. Three years have gone by and it doesn’t feel a year over two. Life often has a way of getting away from you under normal circumstances. Throw in a graduation, a pandemic and a new grandbaby and you’re lucky to remember your own name. It’s Emery… oh, but wait… that’s a Pseudonym. Agh, it’s so confusing.

During this time, you do what you can to stay sane. Hopefully, you can stay on target with things that were already going on, such as your writing career. As many people know, though, when you get inundated, something’s got to give. For me, my writing time took a hit. Truly, that’s just an excuse. I could have made the time. But during the aforementioned three years, I took a new hobby. Or twelve. I suppose they could all fall under the heading of crafting–so really only one hobby 12 times over. No seriously, I’m not kidding.

If you like to craft like me, you know that there really isn’t a craft you won’t try. Because why not, right? Especially if you haven’t done it in a long–LONG–while. Let me backtrack a sec, I have been a crafter for as long as I can remember–spurred on by my mother’s crafts. She did the typical 70s macrame and paint by numbers landscapes (those hung in my grandparents living room for thirty years–no lie). There were the odd costuming for school plays and just the regular old sewing for clothes to wear. She worked that machine.

I followed suit, I sewed from teenage on. I did all sorts of wreath making, wood painting and iron-on activities. Then I got married and had kids. The crafts turned to their wants and needs. I made all my sons’s Christmas stockings, and cute little Easter outfits. My iron got a workout like never before–you ever see those little beads you place into a picture and melt together, yeah that one. Oh, and I never want to see moon sand or play dough again, just saying. And then the drought hit. I was crafted out. I put up my sewing kit, to the point I forgot I even had it. Yards upon yards of fabric disappeared into plastic containers and up in closets.

Cut to 2019. I walk into a craft store for no other reason than I wanted to (I didn’t have to buy pipe cleaners or foam balls for a kiddo’s solar system model). My heart and olfactory system soared–there is a very distinctive aroma of the multitude of crafts under one roof that speaks to, and can often overwhelm, the crafters’ nervous system. You itch to get your hands on it. It being EVERYTHING in the store.

For me, it was a reminiscent journey. I’d forgotten how many different crafts I’d done over the years. Aisle after aisle, I looked and said, yep, I’ve done that. And my shopping cart filled to the brim–three times over. And to my creative soul, I was ecstatic to see new crafts had come into existence during my absence. Sublimation anyone!?! HTV! Vinyl! I was addicted instantly and spent the intervening years quite literally knee-deep in the world of DIY.

When 2020 went sideways, my sewing machine came out of hiding and I sewed up masks for my family and friends. The feel of the fabric running through the feet of the machine sparked memories of sewing with my mother and reignited the homey feeling that had long since abandoned me. I was warmed to have it back, especially since I didn’t even realize it was gone.

My cute little office went from a desk (and TV that is on more than it should be)–where I didn’t write–to my crafting cave. I have recent cut the glue and glitter to a mere shimmer and I am itching to get back into writing. But I still want to craft. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. Surely there is a balance to be sought and accomplished. However time management isn’t my strongest asset. But that is a tale for another post.

I’m guessing you knew that considering that the last time I posted anything was over two years ago. Let me back up a little but… say, maybe two years.

June 2016 we’d just gotten a new puppy to go along with out 12 and 16 year old dogs (as I posted–I think my post). To say it was a challenge is the understatement of 2016. The puppy LOVED the older dogs. The older dogs not so much. It became a game of sectioning off the house throughout the day so the older ones had access to food and outside at various times and then same for the pup. We could not put them together. She was just too rambunctious (one time literally launching herself off of something onto the back of one of them).

In July the hubby decided it was time to move. I had decided this six months earlier as the neighbors were having weekly parties every Fri/Sat night but as the hubby worked out of town for those six months he was never home until July. Then he got the full brunt of it and decided it was time. So July 3rd we went on the hunt for a new place to let our pups poop. We found a wonderful neighborhood under development and put our deposit down. Super scary since we’d been in our current house for SEVENTEEN years. It was going to be several months so we had time to get our house ready to sell. Time to paint and get 17 years of literal wear and tear in order.

In August, our older dog unfortunately suffered a stroke and passed away. It was traumatic for all, especially the youngest kiddo who was 3 years younger than her. He’d never know a day w/o her. It put a damper on the excitement getting ready for the new house. But we pushed through. Month after month. It was dicey trying to time when to put the house on the market to when the new house would be finished, but we trusted those in the know. February 2017 rolled around and I got to pack me and the 13 year old and 11 month old dogs in the car for hours at a time while the relator showed the house to prospective buyers. I cannot tell you how much that sucked! But in only 10 days we had an offer (for 5 K over) on our house YAY!

I could not believe how long it took me to settle six people into a new home. It was months and months. I think I finally felt truly settled about Christmastime 2017. Of course, until it was time to take all the decorations down. And then just after Christmas our 13 year old pup became ill. She ended up up going down hill fast and we lost her.

Everything on top of everything else tended to tamp down the creativity every little bit at a time. I did manage to finish a new book somehow in amongst all that, but I think it was because I’d started it before this all started. Starting something now however….UGH! Does not seem to want to happen. But I’m going to make it happen. Eventually!

Wow…I didn’t want this to sound so Wah-wah-wah … just an explanation. There are reasons people don’t write. I guess some could have used writing as a buckled-down and use the writing as a diversion. I tend to use life as the writing diversion. I need to work on that!

On an up note. We have a new puppy. She’s actually a sister to the other puppy…same dad, different mom. They’re so different personality-wise but both a handful of fun!

(and yes, that little brown puppy from 2 years ago turned into the big white dog–they are Soft Coated Wheaten Terriers)

I can finally share the cover of my new book PERSON OF INTEREST.

I am very excited for my new series: Celeste Eagan Mysteries. Book 1: PERSON OF INTEREST comes out August 29, 2016 and is available from Carina Press!

It’s not enough that I have a book to edit as well as one to write from page one, I decided I need more challenges and got a puppy. I’ve been wanting a puppy and since our carpet is trashed thanks to our 16yo “pup” I figured it would be a good time to get the newest member so she’ll be house-trained before we redo the floors.

She’s a cutie, a handful and does NOT like sleeping in her crate at night–which she will eventually have to get used to (even if she has cried ALL night long these first few nights with us).

Her name is Fiona. She’s a 7 weeks old, Wheaten Terrier.

The two other dogs are so not keen on her. I have baby gates up all over the house to keep her from chasing the old girls. It’s been an experience to say the least.

The black one–Zenzi is 16 and the brown one–Trixie is 13 – they are both multi-mutts!

I got off to a good start with my new blog then I received the edits for Book 1 of my Celeste Eagan Mysteries. PLUS I have to get Book 2 turned in soon as well. I will post more — along with more news, as I learn dates and whatnot. The writing world is exciting and jumping at the moment!

I have a confession to make—I’m addicted to television. Always have been. And worst yet, I’m not the least bit sorry for it, nor do I have plans to curtail it any time soon (I will be the one curled up in a ball when/if the electrical grid collapses). Yeah, there are times when I wish I could cut back (a little) because it can be intrusive when you’re on a deadline or have plans. But watching TV is my comfort place, my warm fuzzy brain-blanket and yeah, my crack.

I have binge-watched many a show over the years; most recently Teen Wolf. One day it just popped into my head I wanted to watch it and as it happened, I had a long flight coming up so I thought, “What a great time to try it out.” Naturally, I had to watch a few episodes before I left to make sure that it was something I wanted to keep me company for the nine hour flight to and fro. And BOOM, I loved it (I ended up watching ALL the episodes in 2 1/2 weeks—crack, I tell ya). I’ve also binge-watched Orphan Black, NCIS, NCIS:LA, CSI, The Walking Dead and…well, I’m sure there’s many more but I won’t bore you.

A good portion of the shows I watch revolve around Law Enforcement. Can’t say why that is what draws me in, but it does. And it has since I was a kid. I remember watching Hills Street Blues in reruns when I was a kid, and Hunter and oh man there were so many cop shows in the 80s and 90s—and I watched a good chunk of them. I watched all the seasons of NYPD Blues from episode 1 and I started out watching all the incarnations of Law and Order, though that series brand has fallen to the wayside for me.

NCIS (and spinoffs) and CSI (and spinoffs) are my *fave* series to watch. Those and Castle. I can watch those all day, every day. And thanks to the number of networks that show them, I often do. I was once asked how I can re-watch the episodes so many times. More often than not, it’s background noise for whatever I am doing—usually writing. With the repeat of the episodes I can drop in when I need a brain-break and, since I *have* seen it so many times, I am right there in it, know what’s going on and can then pop out when my brain is ready to reboot to the project I’m on and I don’t really miss anything, because it’s already there in my head.

I do have a variety of TV interests. The Middle and The Big Bang Theory are faves to laugh off a bad day with. And I find myself more often than not drawn to the History and Science channels. Don’t get me started on my love for the Hallmark Channel. When it *finally* came back to my cable provider it was on in my house 24/7—I kid you not—for about six months. I lurve my crack, er, ah, TV. Granted, if I am somewhere where there is a TV on, my eyes will find it and train on it regardless of what is on the screen. It’s all fascinating. And when it comes down to it it’s also all fodder to my writer’s brain. So it’s useful to!

I’ve ALWAYS had books. From my earliest memory. Both my parents are avid readers and instilled this love of books on to me and my brothers—though our tastes are all vastly different. But that’s okay because there are plenty of books to go around.

I got my first library card at six years old. My mom was pregnant with my brother and one of the neighbors would take me to library whenever they went. I was so proud of that card. It made me a big girl—and kept my mind off the fact that there was a little brat boy who was about to interrupt my world. (And I can still remember the smell, look and feel of the little library in Tyler, Texas back in the late 70s.)

In elementary school, I had the thrill of being free to check out any book I wanted. And I wanted them ALL. I would pick a section in the library and then pick a shelf and go from one end to the other. This was a trend I carried on into college and adulthood. It’s a weird way to read books, but I have discovered some of my favorite authors through my shelf-surfing—I tend to stick to Romance and Mysteries genres. But I read all across the board.

I try to read at least one book a week—that’s 52 books a year. I’ve had years where I only manage 35 and others when I get as many as 82 in. I know because I keep track on my personal Good Reads page. And I have a spreadsheet. (Yeah there’s weirdness for you—but I bought the same book THREE times and realized I needed a way to keep track.)

I have tried to carry over the reading bug to my kids. Of the four of them, one is as avid a reader as I am, the other three, meh, but I think they will be as the get older—and as my boys personalities are as different as can be, their reading tastes aren’t even in the same section of card catalog (yeah, yeah, I know, card catalogs are no more, but I liked the sound it). My boys are used to books, books are familiar to them. They live in a house with thousands (remember the spreadsheet, so I know the exact count) of books so the reading seeds have been sown.

Believe it or not, back when I was just a wee little lass, I wrote stories. Mostly it was in a book that was already written. And always it was total gibberish as I didn’t know how to spell, or write well, for that matter yet (I think I spelled my name Otbhr…yeah, don’t ask me, my mom could never figure that one out).  

As I grew a little older, I liked to pretend I knew what happened “after” a story ended. I was never satisfied with “The End”. I wanted more so I finished up the stories myself—the best part is I can still do that, make it what I want it to be.

In late elementary school, a friend down the street and I made a weekly newspaper. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what the content of the newspaper was other than a comic strip we created—which was a little dude on the wall who had catchy phrases (for the time, it was the 80s).

The newsletter lasted six months maybe, and we lost interest and decided to put on plays for her parents and mine (often to Pink Floyd for some strange reason).

Naturally like any young girl, I filled a diary with hopes, dreams, and lots and lots of the boys I wanted to date, the one who said yes or the ones who irritated me to the core and ended up as a butt-licking dog in a book years later. I still have that diary and it cracks me up to read all the angst and woe-is-me moments interlaced with the “some days” of a 12 to 14 year-old girl.

In high school, I graduated to actually writing out my work. My mother bought me a Brother Word Processor. And up until about 2 years ago I still had it. My kids even used it until one of them shoved a Yu-gi-oh card into the disk slot.

I wrote a dozen or so poems, several of which I did eventually get published. I wrote short stories—though brevity is really not my thing—and my first ever attempt at a novel. It started out as a recount of my senior year ski trip and the boy I was dating (okay, I had brevity down where he was concerned) and then it morphed into a what-if story. Not that I pined away for him (AT ALL), but I just liked the what-if game. As a matter of fact, I still like the what-if game. No, I love it. It’s just too much fun.

Writing keeps me sane, writing lets me get bottled-up things out and writing lets me create my version of the “what-if” game to my heart’s content. I can’t imagine not writing—even if I’m the only one who ever sees it. It’s a huge part of who I am and I wouldn’t change a thing.

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post of any kind…and this is the first for Emery Harper. I’ve gotten out of the habit of it thanks to Facebook, Twitter and the likes. You get used to having a thought and BOOM! you post it for all to see. But there is something to be said for taking your time to compose something a little longer, a little more thoughtful and with the capability of making sure that it’s what you want to post.

Even thought I haven’t posted a blog in a while, that’s not to say that I haven’t had blog posts run through my mind. Most frequently it happens while I’m blow drying my hair. I find that I will compose an idea almost the second I flip the switch for the dryer. I’d love to say that they are the most brilliant posts you could ever read, but as they’ve not made it to an actual screen…then eh, who knows. The sad thing is, pretty much the moment I flip the switch to turn it off, I’ve forgotten the post entirely. I think the moment of being literally tethered to the wall in the bathroom, my brain shuts off all my worries and whatnot because there’s nothing I can do at that moment, but when the dryer disengages my brain reengages at warp speed.

I’ve thought about getting a recored and  trying to voice the post that is rattling around in my head, but I fear the noise will be too much. Still…it’s an idea for a later date.

And maybe it’s just moi who can come up with a random blog post in its entirety and then lose it just as quickly, but weird and quirky seem to be my main attributes so I guess I will have to learn to live with that.

Peace out ~