Well, I think most of you would say, darn it Susan you haven't learned a thing. And I could see why you'd say that. Two years ago I jumped into Indie book world releasing a complex coming-of-age series, The Half Shell Series, that starts in the 80s.

While the series has been received beyond my expectation, I did get a lot of emails with things like "I don't normally read books set in the 80s" or "The Girl on the Half Shell is a great story, but it would sell better if you hadn't set it in the 8os."

But I'm a crazy granny with a road map. I had to start there to get to where we were  going.

Now, I'm holding my breathe for the "I hate the 60s" comments, but to be fair, I did include the 70s(completely blah decade) the 80s, the 90s(I really had a good time in the 90s) and present time, and the end of Jack's story, and very excited to discover tucked in Jack's story I found another "The Girl" Madison, Jack & Linda's daughter, in 2017 The Girl of Sun & Sand(Sun & Sand Series Book 1) and unlike Sand & Fog, where each of the 6 books is a standalone with HEA, Sun & Sand will be a 3, maybe 4 book, continuing series.

Time to go back to my release roots and have a little bit of fun with a new girl and another steamy romance into the unexpected.

So, what have I learned after this last release? Well, my sales numbers aren't great. I have no reviews which is pretty much considered an Amazon kiss of death for selling a book. I'm exhausted. This was a long freaking book, and I'm curled up reading an ARC by Andrea Smith during my week of  Randy's, you are not allowed to write, Susan.

I didn't learn anything this release...

I'm still doing things the Susan way...

Nope, this release affirmed how much I love writing, the joy of telling a tale the way  it takes form inside of you without any consideration for the practical realities of trying to sell a good, and how lucky I am to have such marvelous readers willing to take the unexpected turns with me on each book.

Thank you all and as ever I wish you Peace.

Wait for it....My zero budget release Blitz:
JUST WENT LIVE! One Forever Kiss.Read FREE in Kindle Unlimited #Amazon >http://amzn.to/1qQaF1u 

Somewhere back, far far ago, in my blog, I wrote a post about why the first book I released was The Girl on the Half Shell. Chrissie was a product of my generation, a woman who came to age during those decades of often over-looked change in the role women between my mother's generation and my daughter's generation. A messier time for woman. Less clear. In transition. But me, laughing. And I wanted to write something that might someday give my daughters a little insight into me.

As I started to roll in spinoff series--Affair without End, Sand & Fog, Locked & Loaded--I started to incorporate another theme about life I believe. Two people can be in the same significant moment, experience the same thing, but have it mean something different and walk away believing it was different, or rather, different things were made significant. I do that in Broken Crown, pulling in the one scene from Half Shell, when Chrissie runs back to Malibu for Alan. Then in the two of Sand & Fog, Kaley and Alan have their share of shared moments with different meanings, hopefully illustrated in The Girl of Sand & Fog.

But that Jackson Parker. He's the center of the universe I think. Even though not often on the pages of every book so far in the Parker Saga, his presence is felt and he's largely shaped who all these character became.  Conversely, they've largely shaped him. So in writing his story I'm crossing all over the universe, the moments of others he shared, and what they were to him.

Everyone in a shared moment can be touched by it in different ways, and it doesn't have to be their moment to do that.

The first 100K words is just his story with Lena. A Very long novel on it's own. The second half of the book, nope, couldn't write it without pulling in those significant moments lived in other books. They are part of Jack. Who he became. The man he was for everyone in the Parker Universe, but more importantly, the man he was for Linda.

A rather complex, emotionally exhausting effort. I've probably cried more writing this book than with any other.  I know I've worried more because Jack is man who has lived life and the rock in people's universe often isn't the one who's done everything right. It's the one who has lived.

So as I slug through the finalizing process of the last few pages,  I'm wondering if anyone will like what I attempted to do, and if not, maybe it will just make them think. No moment in our life is ever only about us or as clear as we think it is.

As ever, I wish you Peace.

TODAY is my 2 yr. anniversary as an Indie author. 24 months ago, rather tipsy, I sat in the Santa Barbara house one afternoon and argued with myself about hitting release on The Girl on the Half Shell. I’d been writing books since I was 13. My daughters sort of knew. Only they thought I only wrote books about pirates because I had that one book I never seemed to finish. My husband—clueless—didn’t even know about my writing, though we’d been together, like, totally forever.  

I didn’t tell anyone I was going to publish a book. Not my husband, my children or a single friend. I hit release, went and tanned on my patio, and thought “Oh shit, what have I done to my life?” And now 2 years later, Chrissie and Alan (the story I dreamed up in my head at the Uffizi museum in Florence, Italy staring at Botticelli’s Venus Rising from the Sea as I waited for Tracy and Andrew to come find mom because somehow I’d gotten lost) has given birth to an entire fictional universe and family.  4 Generations and 15 books (so far released) but 50 books eventually. Yep, believe it or not, that’s how many stories  the Parkers have to tell. 

As an Indie author, I was given birth by Chrissie and Alan, the story they insisted I release. Well, mostly Alan, insisted I release it. Chrissie couldn’t make up her mind…

Thank you all of you who read my books, send me wonderful notes and emails, and have fallen in love and care about my Parker family. Today to celebrate I’ve put up 50 copies free first come first serve for The Girl on the Half Shell. At first I thought I should do 24 books (get it? 2 years an indie so 1 book for each month) then I went heck no, I’m 100 years old, 100 copies but Amazon wouldn’t let me give away 100 in one chunk, so 50 is the number I’m celebrating with J Thank you all for being truly wonderful to me. You will never know how much you’ve enriched my heart and returned to me faith that there are still happier moments yet to live.  

As ever I wish you Peace.


Amazon Give Away Link>>> https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/8578fab833548168

We're old married people. We've been together a long time, but I love how hopeful he is each time he asks me "Are you done with a book yet?" From the  moment I start a story until I hit release, I'm lost in the pages with my characters. It's no different with Jack & Lena then Jack & Linda in One Forever kiss. However, it's taking longer. It is an epic love story, and I'm not ready to come out yet. 

See, at the end of writing a  book, through the final check process, I just want to hover in the pages with them.

I love Jack. The man he wanted to be; then the man he became.

I want to do justice by his story. Hence, the extra time and the double, triple checking. It's an important book in the Parker series, because beyond sharing what happens with Lena & Jack, you meet Chrissie's mother and maybe you understand parts of Chrissie you haven't understood before this. We are all an artful blend of our parents and what we live.

Jack is.
 
Linda is.

Lena is....and through the pages I write  I hope you see and fall in love with these imperfect people, and yet understand them all better.

And now I have this wonderful world of new characters I'm spinning stories in my head for. But I don't know: does anyone want a love story set in the '60s, and if not, their stories will remain mine, in my computer or maybe just my head.

As always I wish you peace.

Copyright © 2016 Susan Ward(Excerpt)

After four hours sitting in a chair softly strumming Vivaldi on the guitar, I was more than ready for my gig to end.
The manager was annoyed with me.
I was supposed to remain as unobtrusive as furniture, but I’d figured out even in this crowd when a woman looked at me that if I made eye contact and smiled the tips were better. The phone numbers they sometimes slipped into the bills I destroyed before I went home.
I could have been Good Time Jack here, of all places, if I wanted to be, which I didn’t. Lena would make me quit if she ever found as much as a single telephone number in my pocket. She’d probably toss me out as well. There were some things about Lena I understood without effort. And if I hadn’t, the way she stared at any girl who smiled at me would clarify things instantly.
My goddess was passionate in other ways than in bed; she had a temper.
Reggie was waiting for me out front when I exited the restaurant and we headed toward my car.
“Where have you been sleeping?” I asked. “You haven’t been home in days. Lena is starting to feel badly.”
He shrugged. “Me not being home has nothing to do with her, Jack.”
“OK, so explain it to me. What gives?” I prodded as I started the car.
“It’s just I’ve been spending time with Liz, and I thought it would be better all the way around if I did it elsewhere.”
I frowned. “Liz?”
His eyes locked on mine meaningfully. “The girl Lena found in your bed her first night in Cambridge.”
“Oh.” I tried not to smile, but failed miserably. “Yep, don’t want to even mention her to Lena. Better not to bring her around.”
We laughed, though Reggie shook his head at me.
“Fuck, you are one pussy-whipped man.”
His comment didn’t insult me. “You don’t know the half of it, Reggie, and trust me, I’m not complaining. Where are we going?”
“South Boston.”
We lapsed into silence as we drove the rest of the way, but I was feeling better about the Reggie situation. Everything was cool between us. He was just off doing things better to do away. Though now that I knew what was going on with him I couldn’t explain it to Lena, so she’d just have to get over feeling badly about Reggie on her own.
Nope, bringing up Liz would not be a good thing.
“Park over there,” Reggie said, and I pulled off on the side of the road in front of a bar.
I stared at the dark windows, hearing the raucous crowd, and I shook my head. “Shit, you should have told me we were going to meet Liam in a place like this.”
Reggie frowned. “What’s the problem, Jack?”
“Well, look at me. I just came from my gig at Moxy. I’m not going to fit in here. They are not even going to give me an audition. This is a waste of time.”
“It will be fine. I’ve already told Liam about you.”
I climbed from the car in an area of the city where my silver Porsche and preppy style of dress—crisply ironed shirt, tie, khaki slacks, and navy blazer—stood out like a sore thumb.
Nope, it didn’t matter how much Reggie tried to sell them on me, this was going to be a bust.
I pulled back the door and entered the smoky bar. It was packed, and while the girls looked at me—they always looked, everywhere—the guys gave me hostile stares.
Fuck, just what I expected. I’d be lucky if this wasn’t kick the shit out of preppy for fun night.
I raked a hand through my golden hair as I fought to see through the crush of bodies on the dance floor to the band on the stage.
They had kind of an interesting sound, sort of a blending of a whole lot of styles—blues rock, folk, and pop—and were almost coming up with the right stuff. 
It might have worked out better if they weren’t all marginal musicians, except their lead guitarist/front man who was pretty awful, and their bass player who was the talent in the group.
Reggie leaned in to my ear so I could hear him above the noise. “They get booked regularly. Steady work. Well-paying gigs. Give it a chance.”
Damn, I’d let my thoughts show on my face.
I shrugged. “At this point, it doesn’t matter. They’re not going to give me a chance.”
“Where’s that Parker confidence and charm?”
“I left it at the door.”
He laughed and starting moving through the crowd.
He gestured for me to sit at a table near the stage and grabbed hold of a passing waitress to order a round of drinks. We were down two drinks when the band finally broke.
“Let me handle this, Jack. We need to play this cool. Their singer doesn’t know they’re thinking of cutting him loose,” Reggie said quickly before they joined us at the table.
“Reggie Dun, what the hell are you doing here?” a man said in a booming voice, and by their greeting I assumed it was his buddy Liam.
“Just checking out the local competition, Liam,” Reggie replied jovially.
“You still at the Firehouse?”
“Until the end of July. You?”
Liam laughed. “We’re booked solid all over the state for a year. Probably because of Jerry’s looks.” He gave his singer an affection shove—he was good-looking guy—and then jeered, “It can’t be because of his playing.”
I laughed when everyone else laughed before I realized it probably wasn’t a smart move.
Jerry planted an arm on the table and scowled into my face. “What the hell are you laughing at, kid?”
I met his stare evenly, smiling as I leaned back in my chair. The air around the table crackled with tension, telling me it was better to double down than back down in a crowd like this.
“A guy told a joke. It was funny. Even though it isn’t fucking funny for those listening to you that you don’t tune your instrument before you go on stage. But then, I figured with how you played it didn’t really matter, so I laughed.”
His reaction to that—not good—might have gone badly if Liam hadn’t been laughing so hard that it was him Jerry shoved before he walked away with the rest of the band.
Reggie stared at me, shaking his head. “I told you to play it cool.”
“Fuck, I’m not going to roll over for a jerk like that.”
Reggie got up from his chair and followed Jerry out of
Reggie got up from his chair and followed Jerry out of the bar, leaving me with the towering bass player standing above me.
“You got my lead singer hopping mad, kid. You best watch where you shoot off your mouth around here.”
“It’s a crime to play that way and charge people money. Your sound wouldn’t be half bad if it were in tune.”
“And what would you know of that?” he scoffed.
I shrugged. “I know when a guitar is in tune. That’s more than your lead knows.”
He laughed. “You’re a cocky bastard, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been called worse.” I extended my hand. “Jackson Parker.”
“Liam Ferguson.” He gave me a critical once-over. “Irish?” I nodded. “You just saved yourself from getting punched in the face.”
“Irish Catholic. Will that earn me the right to show you how that song should be played?”
“No, but it’s earned the right to buy me a drink.”
Laughing, I gestured at the chair across from me, and I called the bartender to bring a bottle and another glass.
“Your band has an interesting sound. Where are you guys from, Liam?”
“Southie. Born and raised. How about you, Jackson.”
“California. A small town. Santa Barbara.”
“I know the town. Did a gig up there. Used to play with some guys out on Balboa Island. Fucking genius musicians, but their music—you kids with your feet in the sand have your own kind of sound and your own kind of rules about everything. Is that the kind of music you play?”
I shrugged. “I play a bit of this, a bit of that. Whatever pays the rent.”
Laughing, Liam nodded. “I do a bit of that myself.”
“Right now I’m playing classical guitar during the dinner hour five nights a week at Moxy and doing catch gigs with Reggie when he needs me.”
His gaze paused briefly on my ring. “I see you’re married.”
“I am.”
“Women, the weakness of every Irishman.”
“They are that. But would we have it any other way?”
We both laughed.
“So, Jackson Parker from Santa Barbara, what the hell are you doing in Southie trying to buddy up to get some work out of me?”
“I need the work. Plain and simple.”
“Something tells me there’s nothing plain and simple about you. Why would a kid going to Harvard need work?”
I pretended to be surprised by his observation. “How did you know I attend Harvard?”
“The clothes. How else? You’re not the first Harvard boy to get lost in here. You rich boys like to come down here for good times. The music is better. The drinks are better. The girls are better than what you find in a Harvard bar.” He refilled his glass, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face. “You are the first, however, ever to insult my guitarist, then buy me a drink and ask for work.”
The band was back on stage.
He rose from the table.
“Thanks for the drink.” He started to leave, then stopped and turned back to face me. “We rehearse Wednesday after hours in the back of the novelty store on Front Street. We’re booked every Friday and Saturday for the next year. Bring your guitar. You’re hired, kid.”
I stared at him in surprise. “You haven’t heard me play or sing.”
“Don’t have to. I’ve seen all I need to see. Reggie vouched for you. That’s good enough for me. And it’s past time to give Jerry the boot.”
He walked back on stage and, in spite of what he’d said, I still wasn’t sure why he’d given me the slot. Frankly, I didn’t care.
They did regular paid gigs two nights a week, and hopefully it would be enough money that I could quit Moxy and have more evenings home with Lena.
Copyright © 2016 Susan Ward(Excerpt)

The last book of a series is always the hardest for me to let go of. If you're reading my Parker Saga you've probably figured out the final book of each main love story is always told in the perspective of the man. Not a retelling of events, though I do sparingly touch on them to weave the stories together, but rather the clarifying of the events without my heroine and ending at last in the  world of happily ever after.

I have two men I love--Alan Manzone from the Half Shell series; Jackson Parker from the Affair without End Series--and each book while the most surprising and easiest of stories to tell, have been the hardest to let go of by releasing them.

I always know who my men are, the backstory in minute detail, whether I intend to give them a POV book or not. What I don't always know is the men themselves. This may sound silly, the exist only in my head right, and they are fictional, but I never really meet the men until I start writing them and they always surprise me.

I remember as I was typing away last summer on Alan's book Broken Crown, I let shaking my head, thinking what are my readers going to think of Alan. He's funny and so darn sweet. I didn't know that, but he is. He told me flat out who he was and I wrote him the way he wanted me to.

I found the same sort of surprise and affection for Jack Parker, as he told me who he wants to be on paper and gave me a few new  folksy maxims. He told me very early in his book "Men are often made by the times they live in. I sure as hell was." I wasn't sure what he was trying to tell me. Was he preparing me for the journey he would take with Lena and Linda, or explain, in his folksy way, that he was just a man and I should remember that as he guided me through the pages.

Like Alan, the story I ended with with Jack-- while the series of events exactly as mapped out in my head and the man who I knew him to be--he revealed it to me in a way funny, tender, at times heart wrenching and at other times inspiring.  A real man. Good and bad. Flawed. Imperfect. Endearing.  In a story that spans decades, one man, two women in a love story  woven together in an unpredictable way--even To me.

They've taught me much about myself, my two favorite heroes, and precisely what a hero should be:  Alan and Jack.

As ever I wish you Peace.