Write On The Edge

Review of LFTL from "Unforgettable Books"

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Fri, 25 May 2012 02:28:00 +0000

Rachel at Unforgettable Books posted this review of Letters From The Ledge today! Rachel reads and reviews mostly Young Adult books and since this book recently won the Young Adult category at the Next Generation Indie Book Awards it seems like a good fit!

In the review she talks about "New Adult" fiction (books targeted to 18-26 year olds) which I think is really awesome and kind of funny since I have described this book as being geared toward YA / College Aged readers. Although I have always known my writing was "crossover" (bridging the gap between YA and Adult) I honestly didn't know there was a name or a category for it (even if it is "unofficial" still).

At any rate, go read Rachel's review and see what you think!

Win one of 3 copies of Letters From The Ledge!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sun, 20 May 2012 01:32:00 +0000

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Letters From the Ledge

by Lynda Meyers

Giveaway ends May 31, 2012.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

LFTL Wins Next Generation Indie Book Awards!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Thu, 10 May 2012 01:40:00 +0000

I am so excited to announce that Letters From The Ledge has won the Young Adult category for the Next Generation Indie Book Awards! This is like winning the Sundance Film Festival of book awards!

The awards ceremony will be held in NYC during the Book Expo America. A gold sticker will be added to the cover of the book in upcoming printings. It will also be included in the 2012 Next Generation Indie Book Awards Catalog.

Stay tuned for pictures and more news, and thanks to all who have supported, blogged about, reviewed and loved this book!

***Interested in winning a free copy of this book?***

Nightly Reading posted a review today and are hosting a giveaway! Click here to read the reviews and enter the giveaway!

Entry is free and only requires a name and email address!

Spring Forward

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Tue, 08 May 2012 00:52:00 +0000

Whenever I start feeling sick I start cleaning. Yes, I do realize this makes me weird, but in reality when you're the mom it's not easy to be sick. The laundry still piles up, the house keeps getting dirty and the refrigerator doesn't magically replenish itself. So historically, if I start feeling sick I try to get a jump on things - start an extra load of laundry, clean a couple of toilets, that kind of thing - just in case I go down for the count - then it won't be so hard to get up again.

Lately I haven't felt like moving forward. In fact, if I'm honest I've felt a little like giving up. Life has been pretty overwhelming the last couple of months and I think it finally just got to me. I currently have two kids on crutches at the same time, both in different stages of recovery from ankle or leg surgery. Did I mention that our oldest daughter is getting married this summer?

In short, I've been living a reactionary life instead of a proactive one. Ever found yourself doing this? Putting out fire after fire rather than being able to run ahead and prevent one or two? Anyway, I've been barely surviving in chaos management mode and it hasn't been easy. Lucky for me, when I start to feel like giving up I also tend to get mad. I'm not going to let life beat me down- not without a fight, anyway!

That's when I go on a bender...

No, not that kind of bender. I start a big project or start spring cleaning or otherwise throw myself into something that must be finished. It lights a fire under me and I start getting spun up like the tasmanian devil - faster and faster I spin until I've got it all under control again. Hey, it's better than having a drinking problem... :)

So spring is here and I've decided to strip, sand, prime and repaint the deck enclosure. Why, when there is an individual spindle every 4 inches did I choose this particular project? Is it insanity? Perhaps. But it could just be that in the midst of repetitive, seemingly meaningless tasks I find my center. Brainless activities quiet my heart without making me feel unproductive. Look, I don't make the magic, all I know is, when I'm done with a couple hour stint I find my heart has sorted itself a bit. And I like that.

I need that.

I have a friend who always tells me "Go where the life is" - in other words, find that "thing" that pours into your spirit and fills you up, that energizes you instead of draining you - and go do that thing. You'll be glad you did. And he's right. I am. Glad that is.

I'm also sore, but that's another story - about a tasmanian she-devil who doesn't know when to stop spinning...

Espresso Book Machine

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Thu, 03 May 2012 01:59:00 +0000

So Robin from Seattle sent me this video of LFTL being printed at an Espresso Book Machine at the University of Washington bookstore.

:) The finished product is amazing!! How fun it must have been to push a few buttons and have a finished book in your hands - talk about hot off the presses! Thanks so much Robin for sending this video and the pics!!

Ryden's Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 15:06:00 +0000

"What do you mean I can't go that way?"

"Well, you can start walking," the man answered "but you won't get very far..."

"And why is that?"

His smile was indulgent, but veiled. "Because there's a door at the end of that corridor, and it's locked."

"Ok. So where's the key?"

His head shook slightly. "I don't know."

"How can you not know? You're the gatekeeper."

He looked at her for a long time before answering. "That's not my door. It's yours. Each door has its own specially made key."

"Well that's ridiculous. Shouldn't there be a master key somewhere?"

"Absolutely. But the same person holds both keys."

"I'm confused."

"Of course you are. That's why you're here." He smiled again, and she couldn't figure out if he was baiting her or simply unwilling to help.

Ryden looked down the hall toward its end and saw nothing but darkness. "So where do I find the one who holds the key?"

"Along the way. Don't worry. He'll find you."

"Oh. Well, that's comforting." She looked again down the corridor and something flashed. "Did you see that?!" But the gatekeeper was gone...

Ryden took a deep breath and started back down the hall. It couldn't be this dark the whole way. Every noise, every whistle of air made it seem more like a dense forest than a narrow hallway. She could smell the night air and even a chance of rain. Her mind started playing cruel tricks. A howling sound made her jump but instead of clinging to the wall, she found herself backed up against a tree, the bark rough and cold against her palms. Her mind twisted around on itself, trying to make sense of it all. Had she gone out an open door without knowing it?

The sound of an old metal lighter scraped into flame and she was no longer alone. The tree she stood against was the only thing taller than a shrub amid the vast silhouette of a prairie, now lit by a small circle of light. A rough voice whispered out from under a wide brimmed stetson.

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you. But I have been waiting for you."

"Waiting for me? Why?"

"Because of your quest."

"What quest?"

"The one that begins here. Now. There."

Without looking up, he pointed off behind her toward a distant mountain. Somehow the moon had come out, but instead of lighting up the sky and the landscape, it illuminated a singular path.

"What about the door?"

"The door will still be here when you get back."

A journey always begins with a choice. Sometimes you know what you're up against and sometimes you don't, but you still have to choose, because choosing nothing is still a choice.

Your journey is unique to you. You can't follow another person's path and expect to get where you need to go. At best you'll end up at their destination, only to find that you don't really fit the way you'd hoped. Their key won't unlock your door.

There is no fulfillment in living another man's dream, so live yours...

Fly Free.

Meghawoman's Musings

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 02:58:00 +0000

Just Meghs emailed me today to let me know she'd posted a review of LFTL earlier this month over at her blog - It can be found here.

What a lovely way of thinking of the book and characters... Thank you so much Meghan!!

Interview at "The Dabbling Mum"

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 19:38:00 +0000

Today's interview post comes from Alyice at The Dabbling Mum. She asked me all kinds of questions and I answered as honestly as I could! Enjoy! Interview at The Dabbling Mum

Review and Blog Tour for Letters From The Ledge

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 12:57:00 +0000

Rebecca Ryals Russell, a blogger and middle school / teen fantasy author, was nice enough to host me for a blog tour this week. I sent her a book to thank her for her time and for hosting me, but given her chosen genre wasn't sure she'd be interested in reading it. This is what Rebecca wrote:

I recently met someone new via the Internet. It happens all the time, right? Only this time, instead of the raving maniacs or kooks I sometimes deal with (just kidding) the person was an author and really nice lady. I agreed to host her on my blog (below) and read her YA book, Letters from the Ledge. I am so happy I agreed to this.

The book is a fascinating exploration of the ways in which our lives interweave with particular people on a daily basis without our even realizing it. Ms. Meyers’ ability to draw the reader into the story and make us care for the characters is well done. She endeavors to help the reader understand why some teens ‘cut’ themselves or consider suicide while coming to grips with their situation. While this is not normally the type of book I would pick up in the store (or online these days) because I enjoy adventurous Fantasy and a rolicing wild ride of questing with dragons and swords, I read this the day it arrived from cover to cover within a few hours.

The rest of the post contains an interview, link to the promo video and part of an excerpt, which yo may have seen before, but if not you can read the full post by clicking here.

Thanks Rebecca!

A New Way To Think About Creativity

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 12:22:00 +0000

After I posted "How to Write In The Now" my daughter sent me this link and told me if I hadn't watched it I should. I think you should too...

How To Write In The Now

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 15:06:00 +0000

Today I want to talk a little bit about writing philosophies, and what I believe to be a crucial part of the connection required to produce writing that is worth reading. It's called writing in the now...

A few years back when I was raising small children yet wanted to be a writer a friend told me "Your most important job is being a mom right now. There will be plenty of time for writing once they're grown." At the time that was really hard for me to swallow. Then they told me: "Your experiences now are providing for your writing later. Be in the now. Soak it in. It will be there when you want to write it later on."

Inspiration for me is not a constant. I realize that 90% of people who make their living writing will tell you to write every day - to get in the habit and even write crap if you have to but do it anyway - that you will develop efficiency and the ability to write even when you don't feel like it. That strategy has never worked for me and it feels like a waste of time. I wouldn't try to garden in the pouring rain or paint my house in a windstorm. There is a time for everything, and a season for every purpose. I believe that applies to writing as well.

The way I process life has an ebb and a flow to it. I take in information, experience, and perception and it rolls around for a while before it becomes assimilated into who I am, and I can't write about it until its become a part of me. Therefore, I only write when I have something to write about. When I can feel a scene building inside me or a topic begins burning a fire in my heart that won't be quenched unless I write it out, or when my characters begin speaking - that's when I'll sit down and get it out there.

If I wait for that connection - that time where it's real and present and in the now - it comes out almost exactly the way I want it - the way it's supposed to. No time wasted writing a bunch of crap then wading through a stinking pile of words to try to find out what the scene is really supposed to be about. It's just there and it's right and it fits the story and when that spurt is over I lay it back down and I go live my life for a while longer.

This is why I will probably be a terrible "career novelist". I have a lot of books in me, I just don't know how long it will take me to write them or how many I'll be able to finish before I die - whenever that is. Letters From The Ledge came pouring out, and although I took a lot of advice and made a lot of changes and ended up rewriting the novel a couple of times before it got to the current state it's in, I still like the very first draft the best, because I feel that's what the book was meant to be. The editors that read through it were not interested in it at the time, and I took that to mean it wasn't right and it needed to be changed.

Looking back I wonder if it was less a problem with content and more an issue of timing. Sometimes I write very quickly and very prolifically. Sometimes I feel as if I have nothing to give. I've learned, in those lean times, to conserve my creative energy and not try to write for the sake or writing. Or to write for the sake of my readers. I simply wait, because that's what will create the best end product for all of us.

So often we get it in our heads that we want something published RIGHT NOW. But maybe that book's time hasn't come yet, and the fact that it gets rejected isn't a problem with the writing or the author, but rather a matter of timing. Our society abhors waiting.

And what if we're supposed to be living our lives now and writing later? What would happen if we listened instead of talking all the time? What if we listened to the rhythm of our lives and were willing to wait and to stand for what's right - what we believe in? What then?

Don't be afraid to wait. Feel. Connect. Process. Assimilate. Write when you're ready. Write when the writing is now. And if it's meant to be widely read its timing will come. If not then perhaps we need to accept that not all writing is meant for the eyes and hearts of others. Perhaps some of it is just for our own hearts or maybe it is between us and our God. Perhaps some writing is merely a stepping stone - propelling us forward to the style, voice, and writing that will accomplish its work in its time...

Perhaps we don't really understand as much as we think we do.

Perhaps silence really is golden.

Perhaps timing is everything...

Blog Party Welcome Wagon!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 13:44:00 +0000

Hi There! My name is Lynda Meyers and I am the author of Letters From The Ledge. I'm also a mom - and a nurse - and a songwriter - and a poet - and I've even been known to paint with my feet! I have four amazing kids and two pretty cute dogs and I'm also a caregiver for my mom. I write about real things. Real life. Sometimes I write about writing. I've been serializing my latest novel called "truly."for free here on my blog at Write On The Edge. I hope you'll check it out!

Letters From The Ledge can be found in paperback at major retailers as well as Amazon and the book's website. It is also in digital format for Kindle, Nook and iBooks / iPad. Read an excerpt at Goodreads or the website or watch a promo video on You Tube.

****GIVEAWAY!! ****

In honor of this year's Ultimate Blog Party! I'm going to give away a free copy of my latest book, Letters From The Ledge, via a drawing held May 1st! Entering is easy! Just read the excerpt of the book, either on Goodreads or the book's website and leave a comment here on this post about it. That's it!

Everyone who comments about the excerpt will be entered to win and I will draw one name May 1st!

Just make sure that your link to your blog includes some way to contact you in case you win!

Reading Should Be Fun!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 18:37:00 +0000

There are a lot of different kinds of writers out there. And different kinds of readers too. I like certain kinds of books, you like certain kinds of books. Our tastes may be different, but none of that matters. What matters is that all of us writers and all of us readers somehow get matched up so that everyone has something to read that they like. Sounds easy, right?

And it should be easy, except there are a lot of critics out there - and I mean literary critics or literati A.K.A. - those people who want to be able to dictate what good writing "is" and what it "isn't".

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of critiques and feedback - getting lots of different types of readers to review and give feedback on a book is paramount, with one caveat:

We need to stop bashing popular fiction for not being "literary" enough.

Read what you like!

And like what you read...

read article here

C.S. Lewis - I knew there was a reason I liked this guy!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 12:23:00 +0000

This is a repost from a feed I subscribe to called "Letters Of Note"

It encouraged me because the tone and style of my own writing is often casual and I intentionally avoid the use of big, fluffy words on purpose, preferring an accessible, conversational tone...

C. S. Lewis on Writing

via Letters of Note by Shaun Usher on 4/3/12

Considering he wrote The Chronicles of Narnia, one of the most popular collections of children's literature of all time, it's no real surprise that C. S. Lewis received thousands of letters from youngsters during his career. What's admirable is that he attempted to reply to each and every one of those pieces of fan mail, and not just with a generic, impersonal line or two.

The fantastic letter seen below is a perfect example. It was sent by Lewis to a young American fan named Joan Lancaster in June of 1956 — just a few months before the seventh and final book of the series, The Last Battle, was published — and is actually an invaluable, generous response filled with practical writing advice, all of which still rings true.

(Source: The wonderful, C. S. Lewis' Letters to Children; Image: C. S. Lewis at work, via .)

The Kilns,
Headington Quarry,
Oxford
26 June 1956

Dear Joan–

Thanks for your letter of the 3rd. You describe your Wonderful Night v. well. That is, you describe the place and the people and the night and the feeling of it all, very well — but not the thing itself — the setting but not the jewel. And no wonder! Wordsworth often does just the same. His Prelude (you're bound to read it about 10 years hence. Don't try it now, or you'll only spoil it for later reading) is full of moments in which everything except the thing itself is described. If you become a writer you'll be trying to describe the thingall your life: and lucky if, out of dozens of books, one or two sentences, just for a moment, come near to getting it across.

About amn't I, aren't I and am I not, of course there are no right or wrong answers about language in the sense in which there are right and wrong answers in Arithmetic. "Good English" is whatever educated people talk; so that what is good in one place or time would not be so in another. Amn't I was good 50 years ago in the North of Ireland where I was brought up, but bad in Southern England. Aren't I would have been hideously bad in Ireland but very good in England. And of course I just don't know which (if either) is good in modern Florida. Don't take any notice of teachers and textbooks in such matters. Nor of logic. It is good to say "more than one passenger was hurt," although more than one equals at least two and therefore logically the verb ought to be plural were not singular was!

What really matters is:–

1. Always try to use the language so as to make quite clear what you mean and make sure your sentence couldn't mean anything else.

2. Always prefer the plain direct word to the long, vague one. Don't implement promises, but keep them.

3. Never use abstract nouns when concrete ones will do. If you mean "More people died" don't say "Mortality rose."

4. In writing. Don't use adjectives which merely tell us how you want us to feel about the thing you are describing. I mean, instead of telling us a thing was "terrible," describe it so that we'll be terrified. Don't say it was "delightful"; make us say "delightful" when we've read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous, exquisite) are only like saying to your readers, "Please will you do my job for me."

5. Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say "infinitely" when you mean "very"; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.

Thanks for the photos. You and Aslan both look v. well. I hope you'll like your new home.

With love
yours
C.S. Lewis

truly. (Until Then...)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 17:55:00 +0000

truly. (Part 33)

If you're new to this blog, this book's journey begins here...

If you're catching up, see the side bar on the left - you'll find all the links posted there.

And lastly, if you're hoping for more of Truly and Finn than this post contains, unfortunately you're going have to wait for the finished product. With any luck you've enjoyed what's been posted enough to wait for me to finish and perfect it so I can get it out to you in its entirety.

I've got my graphic designer working on the cover and am hoping to get "truly." into print by Christmas 2012. Earlier if I can manage it :)

Of course, that will mean finishing it - which I fully intend to do just as soon as I can, but I currently have one daughter hospitalized, the other planning a wedding and a son scheduled for surgery in three weeks. Life doesn't seem to care that I have fans waiting for this book - it hasn't once asked me what I wanted. Therefore I covet your patience and promise I will do my best! Thanks for reading along all this time - I look forward to finishing this just as much as you look forward to reading it! And now, without further ado... truly. (Part 33)

Unfortunately, my sleep was anything but peaceful. I dreamt terrorists in Afghanistan had captured me and were torturing me. They had my laptop and they were reading all my private journals out loud. Then they put clamps around my broken leg and started crushing the bones, telling me I had to admit that I loved Finn or they’d keep crushing. I kept yelling that I loved him and I’d already said it. I begged them to stop but the sun was beating down on me and I was so hot and so thirsty I could barely scream.

I hate those dreams. You know, the ones where you need to run away but your limbs move in slow motion or you’re trying to scream but nothing’s coming out of your mouth? I had a lot of other dreams too. It must have been a long night. Or the meds were finally scrambling my brain, one or the other.

A couple of times I even knew I was dreaming and I kept trying to wake myself up. I imagined Celia’s face, then Colin’s face, then Finn’s face. I locked onto Finn’s face and I kept telling him I love you. I love you. Please make them stop. He was dressed like a soldier with a gun and I wanted desperately for him to use it.

The crushing pain in my leg was replaced with a stinging, pinching pain that was much easier to deal with. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t feel so hot all the time. With as much force as I could whisper I just kept saying I love you Finn. I am in love with you. I am

Finally, in the dark of night–or at least, what felt like the dark of night, I heard Finn’s voice. “Truly, wake up. You’re ok now. Please wake up.”

My eyes felt crusted over and the lids were incredibly heavy. I couldn’t understand why my body needed so much sleep lately, but I was starting to feel a little like Rip Van Winkle. I wanted to reach up and see if my hair had grown, but my arms felt even heavier than my eyelids.

When I finally did open my eyes the room looked different. A big arm with a light on it was coming out of the ceiling and the curtains were in the wrong place. I kept licking my lips and then I heard dad’s voice asking the nurse if they could swab my mouth.

A pink swab appeared in front of my lips and I sucked on it hungrily as they moved it across my teeth and tongue.

“Hey peanut.”

What was dad doing there? Was it the weekend already? That couldn’t be. I’d fallen asleep on Monday. Or was it Tuesday? Wednesday? At any rate…

“What?” I managed hoarsely. “Why…”

I gave up trying to talk. Whatever the answers to my questions, I didn’t need them nearly as much as I needed more sleep. And so I drifted for what seemed like weeks, pain being replaced by relief. Bizarre dreams alternating with peaceful floating on calm seas. I had whole conversations with Finn and Colin, and Kate was there too sometimes. I could never tell if this was dreaming or real but I stopped trying to figure it out and just enjoyed my imaginary friends as best I could.

Then I started hearing voices on a regular basis that started making more sense. People were talking about incisions and dressing changes and another surgery to close the wounds. Close the wounds? I opened my eyes briefly and looked up to see a milky white IV bag hanging next to my bed. I tried to understand my surroundings, and realized it couldn’t have all been a dream.

I took a mental inventory of my body parts. The incision in my side didn’t ache nearly as much as it had before, so that must have been improving. My leg, on the other hand, felt partially numb and partially prickled and pinched and tingly. It wasn’t pain exactly, it was more a dull kind of background realization that pain was present. I guessed that had to be the medication tricking my brain into thinking I had it under control.

Finally I heard a voice I recognized, and I opened my eyes to find Celia’s hand stroking back my hair. Was I back in Kansas again? It was all so confusing. I tried desperately to focus on her face.

“Truly? Listen to me. You’re ok honey.”

I blinked my eyes several times to indicate my extreme confusion.

She stroked my head some more. “You’re in the ICU now. You had an infection, and something in your leg called compartment syndrome. It’s where the muscles squeeze too tight and shut down all the blood flow to the leg. They had to do another surgery to open up the muscle and relieve the pressure, then left the wounds open for several days. They’ve had you sedated so you don’t move that leg around.”

Well, that explained all the bizarre dreams, but really? Move the leg? I could barely move my eyelids.

“They’re going to have to take you back to surgery to try to close it all up, but they might need to do some skin grafting. If so, you’ll probably end up in the Burn Unit ICU because they’re used to dealing with grafts and emergencies like this.”

The Burn Unit? Finn?!

The look in my eyes must have bordered on panic because she brought her face down close to mine and wiped a tear that fell from one side. “Finn’s ok. He’s healing quickly, and he’s very worried about you. We all are. But don’t worry. We’re going to take good care of you.”

I hoped to God that was real because I fell back asleep at that point, content with the knowledge that Finn was ok. I felt tiny–like a little bird with a broken wing. The bed swallowed me up like a big blow-up raft and I just drifted. Noises came and went and people came and went and I didn’t have the energy to even look at them.

I wondered about Finn–talked to him in my sleep. It was all so bizarre I thought maybe we’d both actually died in the car crash and I was living in an episode of Lost.

One day I saw his face just as clear as anything and I smiled and he smiled back. And then he kissed me and the warmth of his lips was so different from the cold, sterile environment I’d been living in I came awake with a start.

“Hi there.”

I blinked hard. Twice. “Finn?!” I whispered.

He reached up slowly, painfully and grabbed my hand. I kept blinking, trying to make sense of things. Was he real? Or was I dreaming again? When my vision started to focus I saw Colin there too, behind Finn’s wheelchair. Wheelchair? Then I remembered his burns. His broken ankle. How was he out of bed?

He spoke again, squeezing my hand. The electricity was still there. That much I knew had to be real. “They’ve had a little trouble getting you to come around. Said you were asking for me, so they were hoping I’d do the trick.”

I smiled and it took an enormous amount of effort.

“I’d like to kiss you again, if that’s alright with you.”

Again? The other one was real too? I tried to nod and hoped he got the message. With what appeared to be an enormous amount of physical effort he leaned over and whispered. “I love you.” Then he winked at me and kissed me softly.

His face contorted as he sat straight again and he controlled it but I heard a nurse say. “Ok lover boy, that’s enough for today. This field trip is over.” I looked up at Colin who was smiling down at me. His tiny nod told me everything I needed to know. He carefully turned the wheelchair and I felt Finn’s grip drop from my hand.

“Bye” I managed.

But Finn was slumped forward in the chair. He couldn’t possibly sit back against those burns. I could hardly believe he was there at all. What had Celia said about the Burn Unit ICU?

A few minutes later, Colin was back. He sat next to my bed and did what Colin does best–he told me the story. “Now I’m not going to let you ask me any questions because the nurse said you have to stay quiet, but I’m gonna tell you what’s happened so you get it all straight in your mind.”

I nodded and let my head relax into the pillow. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to stay awake so I tried to focus on the ceiling tiles while he talked.

“Just so you know, your da’s comin’ back again this weekend. He was here for a few days but he had to go home again. Kate was here with him, over the weekend. They sat by your bed and fretted and worried and you had no idea they were even here.”

That wasn’t exactly true, because I remembered my dad. And Celia. Talking about surgeries. But the weekend? What day was it now? I couldn’t form the words so I just listened.

“Last week you developed a fever. Infection of some kind, and with yer spleen just tryin’ to heal it took hold pretty good. They gave you medicine but then you started screaming about yer leg.”

Screaming? How embarrassing…

“Between the infection and the swelling the cast got too tight and when they took it off they had to do emergency surgery to open up the muscles. They put you in the ICU after surgery and left the wounds open for a few days trying to wait for the infection and swelling to go down again. They put you out–like they did Finn at first–so you wouldn’t move a muscle until they could close it all up again.”

I looked over at Colin, confusion in my eyes and pain underneath it all. He took my hand. “I know it’s a lot to think about but I’m not done yet.”

I sighed and waited for him to go on.

“Two days ago – on Monday, they took you back to surgery again to close the leg back up, but because of the swelling they had to take skin grafts to get it closed. They’ve put you in the Burn Unit ICU now so it’s much easier for me to see both of you.”

I was in the same unit as Finn? How bizarre was that? Or maybe it was a gift. I was so much closer to him now, and if he could come see me in his wheelchair today, then maybe another visit wouldn’t be far off?

He smiled and winked at me then. “Finn’s had grafting too, so now you have that in common.”

It was time that was the problem. My brain was too fuzzy. I couldn’t put it all into order in my head. So it was Wednesday, but I’d lost another entire week? And had two more surgeries? How was I going to pay for all of this on bare bones insurance? And what about my apartment? My savings would be blown in a heartbeat.

I started to hyperventilate and the machines started beeping. A nurse came hurrying in. “Mr. McCarthy I’m going to have to ask you to step out.”

“Aye.” He squeezed my hand. “One step at a time darlin’.”

He patted my hand and he was gone. One step at a time. Who was he kidding? I didn’t know where to begin sorting things out. Luckily I didn’t have to spend much time worrying about it. The nurse put something in my IV and I was gone.

Another Incredibly Generous and Humbling Review

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 02:33:00 +0000

I am once again humbled and in awe of the generous words penned by a reviewer of Letters From The Ledge.

This review comes to you from Auggie at Auggie-talk.

I have to say, it always amazes me how close human hearts really are to one another, and when I read a review like this, from someone who really and truly understood this book and these characters, it makes me feel small (in a good way) and reminds me of why I write.

Thank you so much Auggie, for your beautiful and generous words.

LFTL Trivia! Take The Quiz!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 22:28:00 +0000

How well do you know LFTL? What's Brendan's favorite thing to eat at the Shake Shack? When Sarah thinks she sees Brendan falling off the ledge, what else does she see? 10 questions - Whether you're team Brendan or team Nate this should be easy! Go!

Take The Quiz!

truly. (Part 32)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 16:34:00 +0000

If you're new to this book, this story's journey begins here:

If you're catching up, see the links listed on the left sidebar to pick up where you left off :)

truly. (Part 32)

That night after Colin left I watched Finn’s message over and over, the look on his face burning itself into my memory as he said the words “I’m in love with you.” Was he? Wasn’t I? I’d said as much to Celia, and to Colin. Somewhere around three a.m. I was awake. I flipped on the light and decided to push record. My message to Finn wouldn’t be much, but at least it’d be honest.

“Hey Finn. I can’t believe we’re in the same hospital and yet we’re reduced to video chatting, but I guess this will have to do, for now.”

I pushed the stop button. The beauty of technology meant you could stop your thoughts from coming out of your mouth. I tried to think about what I wanted to say–what I needed to say, but nothing seemed to fit the situation. I guessed this was how Finn must have felt, only he’d filmed his all in one shot. Show off.

It didn’t matter to me that Finn had been married. She wasn’t a wife, really, just some girl he’d gotten pregnant and tried to do the right thing by. I’d known countless girls who’d gotten pregnant in high school and college by guys who never stuck around. And even though I felt small and insignificant in the big scheme of things, it made my feelings for Finn that much stronger. And I ached for his pain in losing them both–especially the baby he would never know. Colin was right. He was such a good man. What in the world was he doing with the likes of me?

Whatever his reasons, I had a job to do. I pushed record again. “Ok, so here’s the deal. You need to get better. I don’t want you worrying about me.”

His face and his words ran in circles around my head until I was dizzy with it. I’m in love with you…And I don’t want any regrets.

“I’m going to come see you just as soon as they let me out of this bed. But I don’t want you to be sorry. Accidents happen. Believe me, I’ve spent a lot of time in my life being angry about things I had no control over. We just have to start from here. Can we do that? Just start from here?”

My words hung in the air for a few seconds. “Maybe we could start dating kind of... long distance.” I smiled into the camera. “You in the burn unit and me…” I looked around the room. “Wherever it is I am now.” I laughed even though it made my side burn with pain.

“It’s the middle of the night for me, but I’ll get this to you as soon as I can, and when you feel up to it you can send me a message back.”

I took a deep breath and imagined his swollen face. “And until then, I want you to know…that I love you.” I pushed stop and let all the air out of my lungs. God that sucked. Finn was right. Telling someone in person is much better than telling them over a video, but if it was all we had, it would have to do. I was determined to get out of that bed, and if PT was coming in the morning then I needed some sleep.

The rest of the night passed relatively quickly. A couple of nurses and a phlebotomist came by to check me over, and then, just as Celia promised, PT showed up around ten a.m. They gave me a pain shot in my IV and we got started. It was excruciating, even with the pain meds on board. Everywhere was tender, guarded. Moving my good leg pulled on my bad leg. Trying to reposition pulled on the stitches in my gut. Getting out of breath and being in pain made me sweat and then when the nausea started I told him to stop.

It was fine, he said. I’d had enough for one day.

“Does this mean I can’t get out of bed?”

Aaron laughed. “Well, not today you can’t.” He was looking at me and shaking his head. The sweat had beaded up across my forehead and upper lip, and I was heaving my breaths out trying not to puke. "I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? That was a whole twenty-four hours away! Surely there was a way to make this go faster. “Are there things I can work on in the mean time? After I rest a bit?”

Aaron took my hand and put his other hand on my shoulder. “See this posture? How tense you are? Relax back into the bed.”

I did as I was told.

“You can practice moving around like we’ve done, but only if you feel up to it. Just getting your limbs used to moving and doing simple tasks is first. Feed yourself. Comb your hair.”

I cringed. My incision protested at even the thought of putting my arms up over my head. But he was right. If I couldn’t even do those simple things, how would I ever hope to get out of bed?

“Ok.” I let my head sink into the pillows and closed my eyes. The next thing I knew it was afternoon and my lunch tray was sitting next to my bed. So was Colin.

“Well hello there sleepy head!”

I blinked a couple of times. “Hi. How long have you been here?”

“Not long.”

I suddenly came awake and reached under my blankets, producing Finn’s phone. “Here!”

Colin’s eyebrows went up. “What’s this?”

“I did what you said. I told him myself.”

Colin’s eyes crinkled up in an understanding smile. “Aye. Now that’s the ticket!”

“How is he today?”

“He was awake again. I got to talk with him a while.”

“Did you have to lay down under the bed?” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and reached for my tray, but the pain stopped me.

Colin slid the table closer and I put my hand up. “Ok that’s enough – don’t do anything more for me. The physical therapist said I have to start feeding myself.”

He sat back against his chair and watched me struggle. I must have looked pathetic. “They have a mirror under there so he can see people.”

“Is he in a lot of pain?”

He didn’t try to mince words. “Aye.”

The thought of Finn being in pain made me ache in places I didn’t have incisions. “Will you bring that to him? Please?”

Colin smiled and nodded once. “Aye.” He got up and walked out. I wasn’t trying to be rude, and I think he understood.

I fed myself lunch and took it extra slow so the nausea wouldn’t make me lose it again. Then I reached into the tray table and found a comb. Since I had very little hair left anyway, it wouldn’t take long to comb it. My movements were molasses-slow. I probably looked like an eighty year old with Parkinson’s the way my limbs trembled with the movements. Celia was right. It was absolutely exhausting. I fell back asleep and when I woke up the room was dark. They had to have been in to take my lunch away and take vital signs, but I didn’t remember any of it. I must have missed dinner completely. My tray table was empty except Finn’s phone.

I reached for it hungrily and switched it on. The clock said nine-thirty. How could I have slept the entire day away? Celia hadn’t been there at all. Must have been her day off.

Finn’s message to me was cute. He was definitely more awake, and trying to be funny. “Well you’ll be happy to know they’ve now given me a room with a view. I’ve got a mirror under the bed and a controller up near my hand so I can tilt the mirror in different directions to see different parts of the room. It all seems a bit backwards to me though.”

I laughed out loud. God he was adorable. For some reason I was suddenly transported back to my apartment and he had me pinned up against the refrigerator. I could feel his kisses again and it warmed my whole body.

“I wanted to thank you for your message and to let you know that I would love to date you. Long distance, short distance. But preferably right next to me.” He smiled. “And I like your hair, by the way. It was beautiful long, but this way I can see all of your face, which is good, you see, since I happen to like your face.” He looked away for a moment, like he was finding his bearings in the room. “And if I were alone right now I’d be telling you about some of the other things I like about you.” He winked at me then and it made me laugh out loud. He was a charmer, I had to give him that. “Until we meet again then.” He smiled and Colin’s hand closed over the phone, signaling the end of my movie.

I’d never been so tired. That PT must have taken more out of me than I thought. I felt hot all over and pushed the blankets off.

The real Finn was in there still. His coma hadn’t taken him away and left him there, present in body but distant in mind. He was strong enough. He would overcome. Relief covered me like a warm blanket and I drifted back to sleep.

A Beautiful Review of LFTL

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 03:53:00 +0000

Just received an email from Delaney Berggren, a reader from Washington State. She wanted me to know she'd posted a review of Letters From The Ledge on her blog and sent me the link. I'm reposting it here for any of you who want to go read it. I was humbled and honored by her words, especially when she talked about how obvious it is that I care about Brendan, Sarah, Paige and Nate.

At first I laughed at the thought - of COURSE I care about them. How could I not care about them? Then it hit me: These aren't just characters. These people are inside me. They came to me like whispers in the night, finding their way into my inner consciousness... To me they are as close to "real" as it gets (for a set of fictional characters, that is... :)

At any rate, if you want to read the full review you can find it here. Thanks Delaney - you absolutely touched my heart!

Things to ponder this morning...

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 10:32:00 +0000

I came across this bit of an excerpt this morning. It's from Henri Nouwen, and though I am not currently grieving any losses, I have recently lost; recently grieved. Yesterday I had a long conversation with a dear friend who is grieving... and this touched my heart - especially the second paragraph - "Often our grief allows us to choreograph our dance while our dance creates the space for our grief."

What a beautiful picture of the two sides of this coin. So many of our emotions are two sides of the same coin - love and hate, fear and hope...

So today if you are grieving, be encouraged.

Make space for your grief.

Let your mourning and your dancing bring you full circle.

Breathe.

Now keep breathing....

Where Mourning and Dancing Touch Each Other

"[There is] a time for mourning, a time for dancing" (Ecclesiastes 3:4). But mourning and dancing are never fully separated. Their "times" do not necessarily follow each other. In fact, their "times" may become one "time." Mourning may turn into dancing and dancing into mourning without showing a clear point where one ends and the other starts.

Often our grief allows us to choreograph our dance while our dance creates the space for our grief. We lose a beloved friend, and in the midst of our tears we discover an unknown joy. We celebrate a success, and in the midst of the party we feel deep sadness. Mourning and dancing, grief and laughter, sadness and gladness - they belong together as the sad-faced clown and the happy-faced clown, who make us both cry and laugh. Let's trust that the beauty of our lives becomes visible where mourning and dancing touch each other.

(Henri Nouwen)

Update and a request!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sat, 24 Mar 2012 16:37:00 +0000

Just wanted to hop on and tell you all that my daughter made it through surgery ok. She's home now, but still in an incredible amount of pain. As soon as life calms down I'll get back to writing and posting about Truly and Finn. Until then, I am ever appreciative of your patience :)

On an exciting note - getting excellent feedback on Letters From The Ledge - have some more book signings and appearances starting to fill up the schedule. A couple of independent bookstores locally have begun stocking the book on their shelves and I am even hoping to do a bit of east coast touring this summer. If you're interested in hosting an event - even a "virtual" event - I love to meet readers so let me know! The more people ask for the book at their local bookstore the more the store will be willing to stock it rather than have to order copies in one at a time.

A Special Request:

If you've read Letters From The Ledge and would be willing to post a review on your blog or website or would be willing to post a picture of the cover and an author interview I can send you all the information and photos you will need! Please email me at lettersfromtheledge(at)gmail(dot)com

I'm also willing to donate items for giveaways like bookmarks and signed posters.

Thanks in advance for your willingness to help spread the word!

Baldwinsville Library Event Article

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 11:35:00 +0000

Some people were asking about the article I published a picture of a couple weeks ago - just prior to the Meet The Author event. The picture didn't allow for being able to actually read the content. They put the content online and the article can be viewed here.

It was a really fantastic write up that seemed to capture the heart of the work, so if you're one of those that had wanted to read the content, there you go!

Been too long...Truly.

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 03:59:00 +0000

I realize it's been a while since I posted about truly, and I wanted you to know my life went a little crazy these last 2 weeks.

This week alone one of my sons and one of my daughters have had serious injuries (sports related, separate events) with ER time, casting, slings, specialists, MRIs, Physical Therapy and surgical scheduling. It's been a whirlwind and I'm still caught in the tornado, so please be patient with me!!

Thanks! I really am "truly" grateful!

Letters From The Ledge As Espresso? Yum!!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 00:38:00 +0000

I am so psyched and in awe of this: There is a new breed of publishing out there folks, and it's just about as easy as ordering a latte! It's called the Espresso Book Machine.

Like a Redbox for books, there are thousands of titles available, and at the push of a button, you order up your book, and it prints and binds your book fresh from the press in a matter of MINUTES. No ordering online, no shipping. Right there. Right then. Is that a kick or what?

Don't believe me? Watch this:

Espresso Book Machines are available at certain bookstores and on college campuses in the United States, but also in cities like London, Amsterdam, Dubai, Beijing, Manila, Tokyo, and others!. Click here to see a map of all the locations, or click here to see a list.

These machines have the unique advantage of being able to "stock" thousands of titles without the need for inventory, building rent, overhead or a sales team, giving people all over the world access to books for which overseas shipping would be cost prohibitive.

I am proud to say that Letters From The Ledge is now available at all Espresso Book Machine locations, worldwide! This is very exciting news!

Baldwinsville Library Event Pics!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 23:43:00 +0000

These pics are from the event at the Baldwinsville Library. I am so grateful - the support the entire community showed me was amazing! It was so much fun to meet fans that had read the book and loved it. So many people asked really interesting questions - it was more like talking to a room full of friends instead of strangers!

(more pics right this way!)