What makes you abandon a book you started reading?
Goodreads recently posed this question then posted a charticle to document answers they received from readers.
I confess I’ve stopped reading Ayn Ryan’s Atlas Shrugged multiple times. Just can’t get into that tome.
What about you? What makes you put down a book without finishing it?
Research and details in a book can make a major difference in a reader’s pleasure.
That’s why in Love in the Morning Calm and The Pendant’s Promise I include details selected from my time in South Korea.
Lily’s apartment is where we lived in U.N. Village.
I walked the same roads that she walked to catch the bus to Eighth Army Headquarters. 
We got so used to the train whistle we didn’t even hear it.
These pictures stir memories for me and I hope give you a good idea of where Lily lived. If you’ve read Love in the Morning Calm, is it like your mental picture?
A gold dress also plays an important role in both books. I got the idea for those scenes from my own experience having a gold dress made to wear to the reception President Park Chung Hee and his wife gave for President and Mrs. Lyndon Johnson. Here’s what my dress looked like. Is it what you pictured Lily wearing?
There’s a carved Papasan in both stories. I brought back several carvings from South Korea to remind us of our time in Han Nam Dong.
That’s the Papasan third from the left. When we lived in Seoul, Papasan meant a title used to address elderly men. The term has come to be used for pimps or a person who manages a bar or a brothel or a similar establishment. The kindly men in the white suits we met didn’t do any of that!
You’ll find I used others places we went during our time in South Korea and developed scenes around them. Places like Chungpyung Reservoir. I can still remember our picnic on the hood of the motor pool jeep with the sound of the roaring dam behind us. Ace and Lily picnicked there too.
I hope these glimpses of South Korea when I was there enhance your reading of Lily and Ace’s love story. Or make you want to read.
It should also demonstrate how writers use their personal experiences in creating their fictional stories.
In 1966, while on temporary assignment to South Korea, Green Beret Major Ace Cabot meets Lily Reed, a Department of Army civilian at Eighth Army Headquarters. Ace is a high-potential career officer, who should resist the temptation of any woman, but he can’t ignore his interest in her.
Lily is a firm supporter of the budding women’s lib movement. She enjoys her freedom and new life away from her stifling hometown. Her plans leave no room for any man. No matter how captivating his smile.
In an uncertain time, in a temporary safe zone, yielding to temptation changes both their lives forever.
Available for Kindle Nook Apple iBook/iPad and Smashwords for PDF, Diesel, or Kobo
For twenty years, Lily Johnson’s life, albeit a life of lies, has been good. Then her daughter falls in love and trouble abounds.
The young man her daughter plans to marry is the godson of her daughter’s biological father. A Green Beret Lily thought died in Vietnam.
When they meet him face-to-face, the years melt away and old passion returns, but Lily’s convinced revealing the truth could mean losing her daughter and the only man she’s ever loved. He believes Lily betrayed her promise to wait.
Is the flame of love strong enough to be re-ignited, or, is it too late?
Available for Kindle Apple iBook/iPad Nook Smashwords for PDF, Diesel, or Kobo and in Paperback
A blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara
Retrieving chickens from the neighbor’s yard is a common event on the Miller Farm. However, yesterday brought a new twist.
One of the white hens was in the yard behind ours. We don’t know these neighbors – yet.
I called for Rachel – master chicken getter, and we headed to the back of our yard. The plan was for Rachel to reach over the fence and “get” the chicken.
Plan A failed–too much brush and the chicken would not cooperate and stay near the fence.
We moved on to Plan B. Someone had to go into the neighbor’s yard. There was a fence and we couldn’t go over it, couldn’t go around it but there was a gate – we could go through.
But it was directly behind our largest beehive. Since it was night, the bees were sleeping and as long as we didn’t wake them up, we were fine. (See previous post on Don’t Wake the Bees.)
Rachel went through the fence, through all the brush and tried to convince the chicken to come home. The renegade hen actually went the opposite direction – it does have a birdbrain, remember.
After countless attempts that resulted in mosquito bites and scratches, we decided to resume the hunt in the morning. Next morning, the renegade hen was nowhere to be seen.
Rachel was afraid a possum had gotten it. The hen couldn’t fly away. We clipped wings to prevent any other wandering chickens. Then we spotted her two yards away. Since she is white, she is easier to spot.
Rachel went off to resume the chicken hunt. I joined her after getting water and food for the good little chickens that stayed in the coop.
We approached from the front yard this time. Once again, we met a fence. Once again, we couldn’t go over it, couldn’t go under it and this time there was no gate. Only a small opening through which we were able to squeeze.
Renegade hen was in the far back of this yard among much undergrowth. We split up to try to corner her.
At one point, I came to a dead fallen tree. I couldn’t go over it, couldn’t go around it, and refused to go through it.
Once again, we gave up the hunt and returned home.
This afternoon we took all four dachshunds for a walk. We were joined by a former classmate of Rachel’s who graciously agreed to take one of the leashes. We told him about our wandering chicken just in case he spotted her somewhere in the neighborhood.
A few houses down from ours, Rachel spotted Renegade Hen once again.
She handed me her two leashes leaving me with three dogs while she resumed the chicken hunt.
Bradley and I watched from a safe distance knowing that Bella would have too much fun hunting this chicken. After a few unsuccessful minutes, I handed my three leashes to Bradley, who by this time probably wished he had stayed at home.
Rachel was tromping through the brush calling, “Here chick chick.” One thing we learned is that chickens do not come when called. 
I stood guard should the chicken try to make a run for it.
Finally, we had success.
I took two leashes back from Bradley, Rachel carried the chicken, and we headed back to the house, hoping this will be our last chicken hunt.
