Monthly Archives: December 2012

Never did I think I would see the day when I would shamelessly push, promote, advertise, and in general, throw myself on the mercy of the eWinds out there. Between the Alvarez Family and the Persephone Cole Mystery Series, I hawk like a barker for a 3rd-rate carnival. Facebook and I are close pals. I’m even learning how it works. I tweet like nobody’s business. If I could afford to hire a plane whose duff dragged a long sign overhead promoting my books, I would. Maybe even a dirigible. Roadsign, anyone? And I used to have so much pride. But pride doesn’t get you sales, nosirree. I have discovered that maybe I’ll never do the sales of Agatha Christie or Janet Evanovitch, but if I sit still and wait for the fates to do it for me, it might never…okay, will never happen at any level. Man oh, man. I had no idea that being a writer involved so much of this end of the stick! It seems now the luxury of writing is the actual writing, itself! Any thoughts on this, dear writing pals? And before we leave, here’s my buy page at Amazon, just to keep this ‘ho thing going!! http://www.amazon.com/Heather-Haven/e/B004QL22UK/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1355071938&sr=1-2-ent Happy Holidays, everyone!

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I love Christmas. Always have. Ever since I found out the tubby guy in the red suit did NOT give me those presents once a year, I’ve been on a high. Let’s face it, Santa’s a little weird. Definitely someone my doctor would want to talk to about his weight. Further, what’s with the white trim, fella? Everybody knows when you’re a short zaftig person, the last thing you need is white fur running horizontally around your belly. I mean, come on. Talk about no clue. When it’s all said and done, I really like it that my mom, a single, struggling mother of two, always managed to put something under that tree year after year. True, often it was a pair of much needed shoes, socks, or underwear. Occasionally, though, it was the gift of gold – new skates, a book, and once, when I turned fourteen, a portable typewriter. My childhood, you see, took place during the Punic Wars, when a computer or iPad was just a gleam in a yet-to-be-born entrepreneurial eye. I remember opening up that typewriter like it was yesterday. The goldest of gold. Small enough to haul around with you wherever you went. The very thing for a fledgling, young writer. Ah, the prose, the poetry, the stories that typewriter helped me write! I wish I had it now; it was pure magic. I believe the act of giving is Christmas. It’s all of us when we’re at our best. We don’t need those we love to sit on our knee and rattle off a wish list. We know their heart’s desires, just as they know ours. If we can make those desires a reality, we will. Christmas is love, hope, and the giving of ourselves. So yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.…

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