A Man Who Rides got its first review. Five stars! Original review from amazon.com by AFM:
I love it when a story draws me into its world; when it comes to life in my imagination and I have my own personal cinematic experience. (That’s also why it’s usually so disappointing to watch a film adaptation of a great book). Ms. Wilder gave me a wonderful afternoon of just that experience! I’m looking forward to more of her stories, and am excited to see to what depths she’ll take her characters. I hope that more Tucson-based stories are forthcoming, as it’s a gorgeous part of the country that doesn’t have nearly enough stories set there.
This book is a nice change from the bodice-rippers that are so prevalent on Amazon, focusing instead on the relationships and self discovery. A very pleasant read. Keep them coming!
ebook available now, paperback edition coming soon
get a copy
I might have a genre problem
It would appear that instead of picking one style of writing and sticking with it, I feel the need to write books that are vastly dissimilar. And thus I find myself on the verge of releasing three different titles in three different genres. In one year.
My most recent publication is A Man Who Rides. I call it ‘contemporary western romance.’ It’s about two people falling in love, and there are horses involved.
I stand on the patio. The October sunset is a riot on the mountains, but the breeze is mild. It’s the start of the Frijole Bowl – a potluck my parents throw each year, to which everyone they know is invited.
I am greeting guests, directing them to the tables set up to receive dishes and desserts. I smile at everyone: hug, shake hands, accept a kiss on the cheek.
I turn as a couple with a baby continues to the porch. I look back towards the patio entrance. I go still.
A person has stopped next to the mesquite tree wrapped in small while lights. He’s looking at me, and grinning.
It’s November, and for many people in the writing community, this means participating in NaNoWriMo (also known as National Novel Writing Month).
but not me
When you are a writer, even if you don’t do NaNoWriMo, being active in any kind of online writing community makes it impossible not to be aware of what happens in November. Twitter is ablaze with word count updates, blog posts about NaNo are everywhere, and writing forums are flooded with the bleary posts of writers up late banging out words, words, and more words.
“Let’s take our little blue glasses and pull the wagon across the bridge.”
My sister says this in all seriousness. The wagon in question is old. It is potentially as old as my brother, who is 33. When the wagon and my brother were first united, it was red and my brother’s hair was fine and straw-colored. Now the wagon is a patchwork of rust and faded paint. My brother’s hair has changed as well. It has darkened to a pale sand brown and is now offset by a beard.