I’ve recently started noticing endorsements on books from other authors.  I’ve always known they were there, but never really paid much attention to them. 

I don’t care if someone else liked a book; I care about if I will like the book.  And to figure that out, I usually pick a page about half way through the book and start reading.  If your writing is so captivating that I want to continue reading - even if I don’t know what’s going on, you’ve probably made a sale.  Oh, and even author’s I love have to go through this process…no free rides with me <g>.

But because author ‘cover blurbs’ are on so many books I figure someone must benefit from them.  Is it the author of the book by receiving more sales?  Or is it the commenting author who has their name exposed to more readers who benefits?  And do those commenting authors actually read the books they ‘cover blurb’?

Have you ever bought a book because of a cover blurb from another author?

These are the burning questions on my mind today.  I hope you’ll comment.

Until next time,

KMA367

I’m going to focus on a touchy topic.  It’s something I’ve recently had to deal with in my own life, and almost everyone will eventually have to confront these circumstances in one way or another.  What I’m talking about is:  When are you too old to drive?

This subject became reality for me when, at a doctor’s appointment with my eighty-seven year old mother, the doctor asked me if Mom was driving okay.  The truth was, I hadn’t actually been a passenger while Mom was driving for a very long time.  I had no idea.

By law, the doctor was required to request a Re-examination of Driver due to a condition for which my mother had been diagnosed.  What that meant was that the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) wanted my mother to take the written examination and if she passed, they’d have her take the driving portion of the test.

Mom was not happy, and she certainly had a good argument.  “In all the years I’ve been driving, I’ve never been in an accident, and I’ve never had a ticket.  Why are they bothering me?”

As a daughter, I agreed with her.  As a police officer, not so much.  Every day, I witness unsafe driving.  Most of the bad driving I see is when I’m in my personal vehicle.  When a black and white police car is in the vicinity, people have a tendency to be on their best driving behavior.  It’s not so much that I worried about my Mom’s driving; I was more worried about the drivers around her.

I knew that while on the road, Mom wasn’t intentionally speeding or making unsafe lane changes.  But I also knew that her reaction time was considerably slower than most other drivers on the road.   Because it had been so long since my mother had driven me anywhere, I asked her to drive while we ran a couple of errands. 

There were a few things that caused me concern.  She liked to do a ‘California stop’ at posted stop signs.  A California stop is when the driver slows considerably at the stop sign, but fails to come to a complete stop.  (And for the record, your wheels must come to a complete stop at a stop sign.)  When driving on residential streets, Mom liked to hug the right curb - to the point it made me nervous she might weave a little and take off a parked car’s side mirror.  When I mentioned these things to her, she didn’t think they were that big of a deal.

Mom was determined to take the re-examination tests and prove the doctor, the DMV, and me wrong.  So she took her written test and passed.  Then came the time for the driving test.  The examiner was very nice, and things looked like they started well when Mom was able to demonstrate she knew how to operate her turn signals, windshield wipers, and horn.  Then the man got in the passenger seat, and they were off! 

When they returned, Mom appeared to be happy with her performance, and the examiner didn’t look traumatized.  The daughter in me was cheering for my Mom.  The cop in me was thinking to myself: How long will the state let Mom drive?

The question was answered when I learned my Mom had failed her driving test.    Once we got home, we reviewed the examiner’s notes.  The ‘fatal’ mistake had been pulling away from a curb without looking for on-coming traffic.  The notes said an on-coming car had to brake in order to avoid a collision.

“That didn’t happen,” my mother said.  “I didn’t see any car when I pulled away from that curb.”  I gently told her, that was the point.

My sister and I had already decided between the two of us, we’d be able to take Mom anywhere she needed to go.  Convincing Mom this was a good idea was a whole other matter.

 Now, months later, I think Mom accepts being chauffeured around.  But every now and then, she’ll say to me, “You know, I can still drive.  I’m a good driver.  I’ve never been in an accident, and I’ve never had a ticket.”

And you know what?  When I see the crazy driver’s on the road and their antics, I can’t disagree.  But my sister and I still sold Mom’s car.

Until next time…

KMA367

I’m not proud of it, but I felt sorry for myself last week. 

I had to cancel my plans to go to the Romance Writers of America’s national conference in Orlando, Florida that takes place later this month.  No, I didn’t change my mind, and it’s not because I can’t afford to go.  It’s because of my stupid back. 

In April, I was in an on-duty traffic collision.  While no one else was injured, I suffered a back injury that’s been quite tenacious in its refusal to heal.  I’m not in any shape to travel; hence, the cancellation of the trip.

I did try to trick my mind by telling myself that not going to the conference was a good thing…that I’d be able to stay at home and write more.  But the truth of the matter is, I didn’t feel any better, and I wasn’t convinced I’d do anymore writing than I normally do.

All week I thought about the conference and how much I enjoy going.  I thought about the friends I wouldn’t see, the different events I’d miss, and yes, the money I was forfeiting for changing my plans so late.  This is only the second conference I’ve missed since 1996!

I tried to get psyched up to plug away on my current work in progress, Deadly Blessing.  But the general sadness of not being able to attend the conference was much like my back pain - not a debilitating blow, but a problematic constant ache.  Instead of throbbing radiating from my back down my left leg, this ‘conference’ discomfort emanated from my mind and into my heart.  I was feeling sorry for myself about the way my back felt and how that problem caused me to cancel a trip I look forward to every year.  So, overall, my week kind of sucked. 

But…yesterday, I opened my e-mail and I saw a subject line that stated:  Orange Rose Contest - Congratulations.  I paused, because to tell you the truth, I’d forgotten I’d entered the contest.  I’d entered the same work in another contest about the same time as I entered the Orange Rose, and in that other contest I did so poorly, I mentally wrote off my Orange Rose entry as well. 

But guess what?  I’d sold myself short.  I am a finalist in the Orange Rose contest and that one positive event, in an otherwise downhearted week, changed everything.  Suddenly, I was once again excited about my writing.  Ideas of how to fix troublesome scenes bombarded me.  Lines of dialogue filled my mind.  I was excited and I was energized. 

So the moral of the story is:  There are times when things aren’t going your way.  You feel picked on, unappreciated or cursed.  There will be well-meaning, cheerful people not in the same mental place as you are, telling you, ‘don’t worry, things will get better’.  You want to believe them, but you really don’t.  Then, something good will happen.  It may something small, something that starts a trend of pleasant experiences.  Or, like me, it could be something quite dramatic and affirming.  But know that when you get way down low, the only option is to go up.  And know there is always an up.  It may not be the ‘up’ you were thinking of or planning on, but there will be an up.  Trust me - I’ve been there and I know.

Until next time,

KMA 367

When two cops work well together they try to ensure they work together as much as possible.  Usually, it will start out that you have the same work ethic and that your “style” of policing is very similar, or if not similar, complimentary.

I was fortunate have such a partnership with another female officer whose name also happens to be Kathy.  We were “regular patrol cops,” also known as P-2 dogs…because regular patrol cops work like dogs.  We were known to other officers as, “The “K” car”, “Cagney and Lacey”, and “The Kathy Car”.   A  suspect once told us we were known on the street as Batman and Robin because we were “seen everywhere arresting everybody.”  The two of us laughed about that for quite some time.  Kathy and I did arrest a lot of people.  We were known to other cops as “magnets” because weird, complicated, stuff just dropped in our laps and usually turned into good arrests - or at the least, very good stories.

Eventually, the sergeants started splitting us up to work with rookie officers who were without training officers for a few days.  We weren’t getting paid to be training officers…we were still P-2 dogs, but decided if we were going to do the work, we were going to promote and earn the money to go with it.  So we did.

While we both moved on with our careers, I think we both recognized those five+ years we spent together in the wee hours of the morning arresting burglars, car thieves, narco suspects, and yes, even murderers, were the best of our careers.  We were so dedicated to each other we would go to work sick, just so the other wouldn’t have to work with someone else.  We had SO much fun together.

I’m sure we got on each other’s nerves from time to time, but the only time I can remember us really having a fight was the time I volunteered for a radio call that involved a dog.  It’s been a long time, and I don’t remember what the call was, (probably something like ’vicious animal attacking people’) but Kathy doesn’t really like dogs, and I knew it, but the call was in our area and I felt obligated to handle the incident.  She was so mad at me!  I don’t think she talked to me for a couple of days.  The call turned out okay, but I should have let the call go to another unit rather than have her mad at me.

Eventually, our paths split and we went our seperate ways.  She now has six kids and I have my family and my writing.  But when I pick up the phone and call her, or send her an e-mail, we’re right on track as if we’d never left that black and white patrol car.  In fact, with just the smallest communication we’re once again partners…and always friends.