Across the River...without a paddle

“Raoul thought he had never seen a more magnificent creature. As he stroked her gleaming chestnut flank, he felt a stirring in his own haunches...”

Okay, now that I have your attention, let me tell you about my career coach. She's a lovely woman who calls herself “Gina Hiatt” (but I suspect that’s the name they gave her in the Witness Protection Program). She suggested that I regale casual cyber surfers with tales of my adventures in the publishing trade via blog, thereby building an audience of would-be readers should my novel ever be published. After I laughed until my eyes bled, I thought, "Why not? What a wonderful opportunity to be ignored by a whole different class of people in a whole new genre!"

After 20 years of editing and writing for many national magazines with "Woman" or “Family” in the title, I blithely began writing a mystery novel, titled ACROSS THE RIVER. Perhaps if I had actually named the main character "Blythe," it would have gone easier. It didn't help that I chose September 10, 2001, as my start date. Herein lies the story. Or rather, I'll try to share the current situation, while throwing in confusing "Memento"-like flashbacks. Sound intriguing? Let me know.

Oh, by the way. My mystery novel has nothing to do with Raoul and his four-legged love interest. The actual opening lines are:

“The double doors of The Rock Bottom swung closed behind me, shutting out the lazy light of a mid-June afternoon. Even in the gloom, the smoke-hazed saloon seemed smaller than I remembered. But then again, the last time I'd been in here, I was wearing chaps, a holster and a ten-gallon hat.”