Happy New Year!
I bet you think this post is going to be about New Year's resolutions and all that stuff.
I have a few, the same ones I make every year--finish 1-2 manuscripts, query more, enter contests. Lose weight. Be nicer. Blah, blah, blah.
But in this early New Year, I want to remember my friend Frank Meyer. For a long time I was part of a super-cool critique group, the Tuesday Night Group. It was an in-town group and was comprised of my longest CP, Kim, who also writes romance and is an amazing CP. Then there was Vicki who is also a romance writer, her husband Mike, a fantasy writer. John, who wrote mainstream, and Gail who wrote women's fiction.
He was an older gentleman, extreme right wing, gifted writer.
Frank was also a pastor.
I waivered the first time I took in a love scene...would Frank object?
I knew the others would be fine. But what about this straight-laced gentleman?
I shouldn't have worried.
Frank never flinched.
I'd never say he liked it, but he read the writing, commented on the plot, characterization or whatever, but never disdained romance.
I loved that.
He self-pubbed four of his books and he worked dilegently to market them, but never saw the success he deserved.
The group broke up, and it wasn't pretty. Most of us didn't even stay on speaking terms.
I stayed in touch with Frank, though, through occasional emails or calls. I emailed him when I got my website last summer and he said he wasn't feeling well, but still working on his books. he asked if I was still writing. I said yes, and he said he prayed for me to sell.
I wished him well, said I'd be in touch.
I never talked to him again.
Together, Kim and I went to his funeral in December.
Raising my glass to you, Frank.
I miss you, and I love you.