Melissa Foster’s novel, Come Back To Me, is women’s fiction–a story that will force you into late night reading, possibly cause you to be tardy at work the next day as you flip pages in between your Lucky Charms and toweling off! It’s a story of a couple who find their well-ordered life suddenly shattered and they are left to forge new paths. Tess and Beau…She is a business savvy wife who finds out she’s pregnant. Good, yes? Well, not if your husband Beau is off on a photo shoot in Iraq and turns up missing…turns up dead…or NOT! Tess must grieve and Beau must simply find a way to survive…then they can be reunited.

Life rarely goes as planned…Beau and Tess learn that lesson in ways they never imagined.

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Mark Your Calendars! | Women’s Literary Cafe
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WoMen’s Literary Cafe is proud to host a launch party to celebrate the release of bestselling, award-winning author, Melissa Foster’s highly anticipated third novel, COME BACK TO ME (Greenforge Books). Read EXCERPT

With all the “have tos” blanketing our days, Jake and Beth sometimes indicate they’ve had enough with activities, homework, school all day and then chores and they leave me wondering just how they will recall their childhood.

My marriage can sometimes feel as dusty as those floors I don’t sweep nearly enough. There are times when Bill or I say something and we’re left looking at each other, marveling at how much we’ve both changed. Who are you? we wonder.

I consider the complexities of today’s world. Wouldn’t it be simpler if we lived in a time when there weren’t so many distractions and family was always the core of activity, when living off the land meant a family would gather at night and read, sew, and laugh about the day’s events, reveling in perfect togetherness?

Nothing puts my life into perspective more than reading the stack of family letters—a portal into the “simple” life of my great-great grandmother’s life at the turn of the 19th century.

When I read the love letters my fingers nearly stick to the sugary words—her flowing cursive that carries a precise, sappy arc of the blossoming love between my great-great grandmother, Jeanie Arthur, and her fiancé Frank, during the year of their engagement from 1882-83. “Oh darling Frank I know that whatever may happen I will never cease to love you for you are dearer to me than anything else in this world…”

References to Shakespeare, Jefferson and others pepper the correspondence and convey Jeanie’s intelligence, along with her acceptance of the limitations that prairie life will impose. “I would advise you not to put very much money in a house just at first. I know you would like to have a nice house and so would I but from what I have seen and experienced it is advisable to keep a considerable amount of ready money on hand during the first year of starting a new farm; for sometimes accidents will happen…” She is practical (they built a sod home to live in until they garnered enough money from their first harvest or two) and driven by the priorities that should have ensured their success as farmers, as a husband and wife, as a family.

Frank on the other hand operated with air castles dancing in his head. He was a dreamer, and a teacher (a noble profession, though not necessarily a good fit when breaking virgin land), and a man who wanted to be good and successful.

It’s clear that Jeanie was the foundation that tethered Frank’s forever-shifting aspirations to earth. It was she who would mold their life into the success they both conjured in their minds. A good match, to have one person who so fully fills out the other—a recipe for lively day’s-end discussions around the fire.

Or not.

Fast forward a few decades. I have another set of letters written by Jeanie, Frank and their children. With the honeyed confidence of the love letters still galloping through my mind, reading the second set was like someone dropped a sod-house on my head. Absent are naíve brightness, loving words, and the endless assurances that the Arthurs could punctuate their life-story with a happy ending, if only the right mix of effort and simplicity was applied—if only they depended on their love. The second set of letters are missives of divorce and dissolution.

Sharp and gritty are Jeanie’s words, like Dakota dirt kicked up, cutting against skin. Her latter day sentiments are stripped of loveliness, intelligence, the wide-ranging interest in world events, politics, and literature that marked her earlier musings.

Worse, and most heart-wrenching to any mother, the letters illustrate that Jeanie’s children did not seem to admire her, see her as capable, understand that she conducted her life with them in mind. Did her children ever know the Jeanie who wrote the first letters? Did they know how difficult it had been for her to give them what they needed?

The Arthurs had lived the simple life I glorify when I’m over-run with yet another request to be in two places at once (made possible with skype and my iphone). How was it that the commodities Jeanie was sure she’d had enough for the both of them—love and work ethic—were not enough to ensure success? Where did all those love words and air castles go?

To say life on the prairie was hard is an understatement. Back in the 1800′s, on the plains, threat of fire, blizzard, insect infestations and drought loomed. Every inch of a home, not to mention every meal, and every piece of clothing, had to be fashioned from only what the earth provided.

I imagine that pioneering for two novices, with one—the man—having an inclination toward whimsy and reckless endeavors, would lead to some tension. The complexities of keeping one person happy and everyone else alive might make a woman who was smart, practical, and fiercely determined, a little pissy that her husband was not so driven, not so loyal, not so loving.

Recently located divorce papers reveal that Frank was indeed toxic to Jeanie and their children. Jeanie made a choice that is difficult in any era—ending a marriage. The divorce meant Jeanie lost her standing, had to board out her children to work and live with other families because her jobs catering, sewing and babysitting did not provide enough to clothe and feed them all.

Through the context of another mother’s long ago struggle revealed in these family letters, I realize how fortunate I am right now. Unlike Frank, my husband is absent due to his work, not flights of fancy. And, when Bill and I feel distant from each other, we arrange a date-night. Date-night!

Could Jeanie and Frank even have conjured the idea of such a simple notion on the prairie in the 1880′s? The Arthurs were too busy actually surviving, and not in the “I can’t breathe because I need to run to Target to pick up glitter for a school project, grocery shop, get the dogs to the vet and it’s all cutting into my writing time” kind of way to ever consider date-night.

Life and death were at the core of every pioneering day. I think of Jeanie, her life, out there, with only flaky Frank to depend upon. Overwhelmed? She must have been. From everything I piece together like a crazy quilt of family history, it’s clear that my great-great grandmother worked herself to an early death attempting to be the person she set out to be, to have the family she wanted so badly.

I must have a lot of Frank in me as the simplicity I bestow on the lives of people who lived long ago was actually more complex than my worst day of maneuvering theater practice around karate. Their simple life only existed in air castles—theirs and mine.

In some ways she failed, in some she succeeded—like every mother does. As I sit here and think of her, I am moved by the notion that somehow I carry on what she couldn’t. In my modern world that feels fast and complicated I have the luxury of truly simplifying it. I can scrape away complexity with ease if I really take the notion seriously. And with the mere appreciation for what Jeanie attempted to do, I mock my struggles and know that in my control are simple realities Jeanie could never have imagined.

I need to put my list of amazing authors below…but before I do–here is the list of rules to follow! This is just a small portion of deserving authors–a little something for everyone!

THE RULES:

1.Show your appreciation to the blogger who gave you the award by link ing back to them.
2.Reveal your top five picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3.Post the award on your blog.
4.Bask in the camaraderie of the most supportive people on the internet—other writers.
5.And best of all—have bloggity fun and spread the love.

Again, thanks so very much to Annette–you are amazing with two books out–two books I can’t wait to read!

Susan Helene Gottfried–Rocker Author, Indie Extraordinaire! If you have a question about self or indie publishing–chances are, Susan has some advice. And she’s never too busy to help. She blogs at West of Mars…

David Gaughran blogs at Let’s Get Digital…if you need some advice about the indie world of publishing, you can bet he’s broken it down into small bites of useful information for all authors, no matter what your genre. He even offers posts from other writers like Bob Mayer… David’s amazing–and he writes books, too!

Cheryl Shireman blogs at Cherylshireman.com and boy when you go there, it’s a real treat. She highlights other authors, has amazing books for sale–both fiction and writer’s craft–and she is always offering other writers a helping hand. Don’t miss her blog and don’t miss her books.

Michelle Black blogs at Victorian West Blog. Think the old west is old and boring? You won’t think so once you have a couple of Michelle’s books under your belt. She has a tremendous blog that chronicles her speaking engagements as well as offers the inside scoop on interesting elements in her books. Don’t miss her work!

Geraldine Solon blogs at Geraldinesolon.com. Her first book Love Letters is being made into a movie–how cool is that???? Right now, filming in California! Like all those mentioned here, Geraldine is a generous and smart writer who is always willing to lend a hand! Enjoy!

It’s been an exciting week for the debut of The Last Letter. Yesterday I was notified of the Gold Medal I won in the Independent Publishers annual competition. It’s thrilling to be included in a group that consists of self-published, small press, and university press winners.

In addition to all the kind words from readers and friends and positive reviews I’ve received so far, I was honored to experience about 24 hours on Amazon’s Movers and Shakers list last Saturday. I was at numbers 2 and 3 for much of that time!

Since April 30th I’ve spent time all over the map on the kindle bestseller list, but at times, for a debut, self-published book in it’s first week to sit here: is really pretty exciting!
#188 overall paid kindle list
#2 kindle western
#3 books western
#4 kindle historical fiction

At one point, I was right behind and then ahead of Water for Elephants! One of my all-time favorite books!

Anyway, thank you to everyone who is and was buying my book. Wow, thanks. To finally be in the process of selling The Last Letter–no matter the path I took–is the greatest thing I could imagine. It’s everything I did imagine.

So, like a small business owner, I must push and prod, and plod down my indie path and hope that my book sells itself as much as I try to sell it. So, as I’m collecting as many Amazon reviews as I can and hoping that my formal reviews come back glowing and happy, I’m also trying to market The Last Letter and create a following that would rival any author with a big company behind her.

One of the things I did was change a category on my Amazon listing. Blake Crouch posted on JA Konrath’s blog about how he was pushing his sales up the success ladder a few weeks back. One of the things he did was narrow one of his categories from the loaded thriller category to the more sparsely populated horror category. That made a difference in his rankings and he sold more books.

I would consider The Last Letter primarily a Historical Fiction book. But, it is set in Dakota Territory and Des Moines, Iowa around the turn of the last century. Therefore, according to some writings I’ve seen, the book could fall into the Western category as well. It’s not a John Wayne type Western and certainly I would put Family Saga as the next best category, but that isn’t a choice. Western is.

And so….I’m so happy to announce the following:

Product Details:
Average Customer Review: 5.0 out of 5 stars See all reviews (5 customer reviews)
Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #6,349 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)
#26 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Fiction > Genre Fiction > Westerns
#40 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Genre Fiction > Westerns

To some, those numbers might mean nothing. They also could change completely by the end of the day, but for this moment, this day, this little slice of life, I’ll take it!

PS, that overall bestsellers rank, needs to rise, so go on over and buy a book! Support a small business owner–Push me into the overall top 100!
And thanks. It means a lot!

For anyone in and around Oakmont, I’m having a signing on April 30th! The book is officially released on May 1st, but if you come to Hippie House Coffee on April 30th there will be plenty of books available, treats, coffee, a chance at a Kindle, and more! Fun for you and your mother, daughter or friends–a little pre-mother’s day celebration.

Can’t wait to see you.

Yes, I know many strong, intelligent, savvy women. But it seems as though each of us has that little chink in the armor. Different for everyone, but still there. For the real Jeanie, hers seemed to be her need to mold herself into Frank’s image of who she should be. Or, who she thought she should be as a wife.

Still, Jeanie is careful to remind Frank, she is a very desirable woman. For instance, in the short excerpt below, Jeanie is responding to Frank’s request that she write shorter letters to him. What, he was so busy he couldn’t stop to read her carefully chosen words, crafted just for him? Clearly she’s irritated.

August 27, 1882

The neighbors tell me he [Palmer Hoy] is very much in love with me for which I am sorry but cannot help him. He is at our house every day. Last night he stayed until eleven o’clock.

Jeanie responds in a way that is old as the Dakota plains but still employed by young women even today. Her response above is what I think of as the 1882 version of facebooking a photo of yourself and the cutest boy in the room—just to be sure your boyfriend doesn’t forget. He’s not the ONLY one who’s interested…

Things are not really that different today. We like to think the past is better, purer, sweeter, that the present is a sucking, swirling trip down the toilet bowl. But really, looking back and honestly at the present—can we say things are different at all?