Why I Love Audiobooks (a “series writer’s” point of view, by Aaron Lazar)

Hi, folks!

I love audiobooks as a reader and book lover. Since the day I discovered how easy it is to listen to a book in my car or on my phone, I have been hooked. I belong to Audible and my library is always loaded up with two to three audiobooks ready to go. If I don’t have a book to listen to—while driving to work, walking, doing laundry, weeding, or winding down at night—I panic. It’s really the only “reading” time I have left in my life, and I cherish it. No, I'm obsessed with it. (If you haven’t discovered this joy in your life yet, see this article to guide you through it.)

But why do I love audiobooks as an author?

Frankly, there are a million reasons why, and here are just some of them.

Fixing Typos and Other Embarrassing Errors

Normally, my Beta readers (God bless all fifteen of them!) find my typos and inconsistencies and just plain dumb mistakes. They're amazing! But even with all the times we go over my manuscripts, there are mistakes we collectively miss.

First of all, if your narrators are as good as mine, you'll “hear” your story in a whole new light as you go through the production phase together.

You’ll find “repeat” words that you can quickly and easily fix in the eBook version. (I hate when I use a word like "slip" or "tree" or "house" more than once in a paragraph or even on a page - except for the obvious little connecting words, etc.)

You’ll find missing spaces or extra punctuation marks. Again, easily fixed. Your narrator will comment on a sentence that might not feel natural, giving you a chance to tweak it on the spot. And you can also discover sneaky little inconsistencies that might have crept into the novel, such as one of your characters having brown eyes in the beginning and gray eyes in the middle of the book! Believe me, it happens. When I think about how many characters I’ve created over the years (primary and secondary), it's a little bit scary. (another article for another day…) Therefore, I use the creation of the audiobook to completely scour out any little niggling errors that might have escaped my notice in the eBook.

Assuring your Print Book is as Good as it Can Be

I usually wait to release the print book until I’ve approved the final audiobook. I hate the idea of print books being out there with even the tiniest error. So my usual release order is:

•         eBook 
•         audiobook
•         print book

Note: I use Create Space to get my print books out there. So, even if you post the print book file with errors, you can of course, fix them at any time. It’s just that if people have already ordered them and have them on their bookshelves, there isn’t an easy way to “correct” these already printed books.

Preparing to Write the Next Book in a Series

I have to keep a lot of series straight. So far, here they are:

·       LeGarde Mysteries (11)

·       Green Marble Mysteries (3)

·       Tall Pines Mysteries (4)

·       Paines Creek Beach Love Stories (3)

·       Bittersweet Hollow Romantic Suspense (3)

The funny thing is, most of these series just started out as standalone books, but my readers begged me for more, so I turned them into series. It’s pretty cool, but that is a LOT of characters and a gazillion plots to remember. It’s especially hard if you’ve been working on one series and then want to switch over to the next.

So, what I do to prepare is I listen to my series again. Sometimes I just listen to the last book to get me in the groove and to “remember” what the heck I wrote about! Sometimes I’ll go through the whole series to be fully grounded again. After all, it might have been two or three or more years since I “visited” with these characters. I’ve got a pretty good memory, but it sure isn’t perfect and I often forget what I’ve written about after a while. It’s funny – sometimes I’m horrified and sometimes I’m thrilled at what I “discover” I wrote, especially from years ago.

Reclaiming Older Titles

I loved my first publisher (Lida Quillen from Twilight Times Books) and I will always be grateful to her for supporting me throughout the early years. But as time went on, I decided to take more control over my books’ release dates, cover designs, and promotion. Little by little, I’ve been asking for rights back on my older titles. I polish them up to match my current skill level (after all, some were written over ten years ago!) and re-release them under my own name, usually through Kindle Select Publishing. This is more lucrative for me and I really like having the control over pricing, sales, cover art, etc. Also, as mentioned above, I can edit or make small changes on a whim without having to bother my publisher about it. I love that.

So, let’s take an example. I’m going to be redesigning covers for and taking back the rights on the last two books in the Green Marble Mysteries, Terror Comes Knocking and For Keeps. 

Right now I’m listening to Terror Comes Knocking again, and finding out how much I’d forgotten from this story. I’m mentally noting where I wrote, “shrugged his shoulders,” instead of the much simpler “shrugged,” (what else is he going to shrug, anyway?). I’m also reliving some scenes from my own life that I incorporated into this story.

When Sam’s wife, Rachel, who has MS, falls and breaks both her shoulders, I am painfully reminded of when this happened to my wife, how she suffered, and how I took two weeks off work to care for her every need. So, I’ve decided to write an “afterword” for this book to explain some of these things. Honest to God, folks, I didn’t make it up, and you don’t have to employ the “suspension of disbelief” because some of these ridiculously improbable things really happened to us!

Redesigning Covers

When I reclaim a book from my original publisher, I also recover it. Let’s face it. Book cover design has improved a thousand fold since even five years ago, and the brighter, bolder, sassier covers stand out among the crowd. It’s more important than ever now to have a cover that is vibrant and also clearly visible in thumbnail format on websites or phones.

During the re-listen of Terror Comes Knocking, I decided on the new cover approach. I found a stock photography model who looks exactly as I pictured my character Zaffina Azziz, the sultry, saucy Egyptian “princess” who falls into Sam and Rachel’s life when their daughter disappears. Is she a sincere med student who just wants to help them? Or is there something much darker and more nefarious about her? The image displays all that I imagined, years ago. With my designer, we’ll decide what kind of a background to choose. It could be rolling hills and tree lines (just like where Sam lives), a small-town parade, or something to do with the President, since he is in grave danger in this book. (stay tuned for the new cover art!)

***

I hope this helps you series writers who might not have time to go back and re-read your older titles. Time is such a precious commodity these days, and this tactic can really help. 

Have fun, and if you need guidance on how to get started with producing audiobooks for NO cost or investment, check out these articles I wrote a long time ago to do just that!  ;o)

Part I

Part II

Remember to take pleasure in the little things and write like the wind!

Aaron Paul Lazar

www.lazarbooks.com

If you’d like to listen to any of my books, here’s a link to my Audible page:

Aaron's Audiobooks

Free excerpt from VOODOO SUMMER, a brand new LeGarde Mystery

Hi, folks!

I hope this finds you all healthy and happy. Spring has finally sprung in our neck of the woods. The birds are singing like mad all morning, and color is popping out all over, with tulips and daffodils blooming everywhere.

I wanted to share the first chapter with you from my newest LeGarde book, Voodoo Summer.  For those of you who've read the other ten books in the series, this one actually takes place in 1966, two years after Tremolo: cry of the loon and one year after Don't Let the Wind Catch You, both which feature Gus as a young man. In addition to a couple of nasty bigots who threaten Gus's family and way of life, there is the joyful summertime boyhood you've experienced with the previous books. You also get to see what happened to Siegfried all those years ago that changed his life forever. I loved writing this one, and will miss my writing time in the early mornings when I was able to "be" thirteen again. ;o) Hope you enjoy it! And by the way, you can read this easily as a standalone - all LeGarde books are written to be enjoyed in any order.

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Chapter 1

Early July, 1966

“We made it.” My father eased our old station wagon over the rutted dirt road and turned into the Loon Harbor parking lot. The twelve-hour trip from East Goodland, New York to South Belgrade, Maine was finally over. He glanced at me in the rear-view mirror with a tired smile. “I’ll bet you’re glad we’re here, Gus.”

“Yes, sir.” I shoved open the door and escaped into air fragrant with balsam. Shadow hopped out behind me, his beagle nose already leading him in frantic circles around the mammoth pine trees shading the lot.

A long white building with red shutters lay just below us. One end housed the office, where my grandmother kept the camp records. The other end featured a huge kitchen where my grandfather and his staff of waitresses bustled to feed the camp guests three hearty meals per day. In the middle of the office and kitchen sat the spacious knotty pine paneled dining hall.

I caught the aroma of homemade donuts and smiled. Gramps was already frying them for me. I knew the donut holes would have my name on them.  

We’d left at four in the morning, and now at just after four in the afternoon, I stared longingly down the hill toward the lake glinting green in the sun.

“Mum?” I asked. “Can I go for a quick dip?”

I expected an answer like, “Later, son. We need to say hello to your grandparents,” or “Help us with the suitcases first, honey.” Instead, she gave me a sweet smile. “Sure. I’ll meet you down on the dock with a towel in a little bit.”

I didn’t hesitate. Today I wore shorts, an old tee shirt, and flip-flops, and I didn’t intend to waste one more second changing into my swimsuit. The shorts would do fine.

“Thanks, Mum.” Before my father could take issue with this unprecedented decision, I kicked out of my flip-flops and took off at a run, dashing down the hill as fast as my thirteen-year-old legs would carry me. The sandy path was crisscrossed with embedded logs, and I leapt high over each one, loving the rush of air against my skin. I felt the lake calling me, and imagined the cool water encircling my body.

I streaked past the shower house, three more cabins, the communal living room, and the sun porch. I pounded over the dock, stripping off my shirt as I ran. Bam, bam, bam, I ran across the weathered gray boards. Finally, I reached the end. I flew into the air, legs kicking and arms spread wide. Into the cool water I plummeted, making a titanic splash. Beneath the surface, a trail of yellow bubbles floated upward. When my feet hit the soft sand, I pushed up and burst into the warm July sunshine, arching to float on my back and gaze at the blue cloudless sky.

“Hi, Gus,” a familiar voice said.

I pulled upright and grinned, glancing around for her. “Elsbeth?”

Beneath the dock, her sweet face appeared, dark curls plastered to her cheeks. My friend rebelled against bathing caps, unlike all the other girls at camp, and let her hair go wild in the water. I didn’t blame her. The darned things looked awfully uncomfortable.

I swam closer to her. “Hey. When did you get here?”

“Monday,” she said in her German accent. “We’ve been dying for you to arrive. I have so much to tell you, Gus.” Her dark eyes flashed in anticipation.

“Ja,” a voice came from up on the dock. “Where have you been, anyway?” Siegfried, Elsbeth’s fraternal twin, smiled down at me, his long blond hair even more enviable than it was at the end of school last week. Wet bangs plastered his forehead and in the back, his hair hung down an inch below where his collar would be. He backed up a few steps and then took a running leap into the water, almost landing on me.

I waited for him to surface, and then scooped water toward him, splashing his face with an unbridled laugh. “My father had to train the new guy to run the pharmacy. It took longer than he planned.”

“Well,” Sig said. “It is about time you got here. Race you to the swing.”

Before I could respond, Elsbeth began feverishly dog paddling toward shore. Siegfried, taller and leaner, easily pulled past her, stroking hard toward the rope swing that dangled from a cluster of white birch trees. It never ceased to amaze me that twins could be so different in appearance and personality. Elsbeth—short, petite, dark, and wild—was the complete opposite of her brother, who sported blond hair, startlingly blue eyes, and who boasted an analytic, brilliant mind.

I began splashing toward the shore behind them, anticipating the giddy feeling of the rope swing flying out over the water, and the delicious drop that followed. “Hey, wait for me.”

I scrambled onto a granite boulder to climb up the mossy ledge where I joined the twins. Sig poised there, ready to soar over the water on the swing.

“Geronimo!” he cried. With legs flailing, he leapt from the porch.

I caught the excitement in Elsbeth’s eyes, and beamed at her. We’d been grounded at home last year because my father’s intended substitute to run his pharmacy became seriously ill, and instead of swimming and boating we’d spent our summer on our horses, riding through the woods. Not that it was a bad way to spend the season. In fact, we’d had an amazing adventure, had met a young Indian spirit named Penni, and had made some lifelong new friends.

In spite of the wonderful time we’d had, I’d still missed the lake.

“I’m so glad we’re here. I really missed it last summer.”

“Me, too,” Elsbeth said with a giggle. “But this summer we’ll make up for lost time, Ja?”

“You bet,” I said.

Siegfried landed with a respectable splash and the rope came swinging back toward us.

I snagged it for her. “Here you go.”

She accepted it gratefully. “Danke, Gus.” With a delightful laugh, she gripped it tightly, jumped into the air, and sailed over the water.

The Marggrander family had escaped from East Germany eight years ago when the twins were just four years old, and they still used some German words in their daily speech. I’d also learned a few key phrases and sometimes I found myself saying “danke,” instead of “thank you,” and “kein problem” instead of “no problem.”

Siegfried had already climbed up and stood dripping beside me. “It’s good to see you, Gus.”

I fake punched him. “You, too. It was pretty lonely without you guys at home the last few days.”

He grabbed the returning rope and handed it to me. “Your turn.”

With gleeful anticipation, I wrapped my hands around a thick hemp knot and swung out over the water, letting go at just the right time. After a delicious, stomach twisting fall, I plunged into the water, feet touching the sandy bottom in seconds. I popped up again, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Watch out below,” Siegfried called.

I swam to the side to get out of his way, and then hurried back to shore for my next turn.

***

Voodoo Summer

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Every family has its secrets…

Summer, 1966: For thirteen-year-old Gus LeGarde, summertime always means Loon Harbor, his grandparents’ idyllic fishing resort on Great Pond. The season is a grand tradition of swimming, boating, and new adventures with his best friends, twins Siegfried and Elsbeth. But this summer, everything changes when a new lodge down the shore threatens the resort—and triggers a chain of events that will transform Gus and his friends forever.

Customers are leaving Loon Harbor in droves for The Seven Whistles, owned by the wealthy LaFontaines. The Baton Rouge family arrives with better amenities and a much larger staff—among them Wilhelmina “Willy” DuPont, a young black girl whose family works for the LaFontaines. Gus and the twins immediately bring Willy into their circle…but their friendship is soon challenged when events at The Seven Whistles take a terrifying turn.

A mysterious figure haunts the windows of women and young ladies at both camps, escalating from peeper to dangerous stalker. Then the LaFontaines’ spoiled and demanding daughter goes missing—and Willy’s innocent older brother is arrested.

Gus soon discovers that dark secrets lurk beneath the surface of the LaFontaine family, and the stakes are higher than ever imagined as they race to exonerate Willy’s brother and find the real perpetrator—before he finds them.

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Aaron Paul Lazar writes to soothe his soul. An award-winning, bestselling Kindle author of many mystery and suspense series, love stories, and writing guides, Aaron enjoys the Genesee Valley countryside in upstate New York, where his characters embrace life, play with their dogs and grandkids, grow sumptuous gardens, and chase bad guys.

“Addictive, award-winning fiction.” 

Lazarbooks.com

LEGARDE MYSTERIES

MOORE MYSTERIES

TALL PINES MYSTERIES

LOVE STORIES

ROMANTIC SUSPENSE 

WRITING GUIDES

 

A Literary Gem: The Music of Us by Uvi Poznansky

Review for The Music of Us, Still Life With Memories, book 3 by Aaron Paul Lazar

When I write a book review, I don’t like to rehash the plot—that information is easily accessible in the book description. What I prefer is to share how the book made me feel, and what I valued between its covers.

Uvi Poznansky is a literary tour de force in a contemporary age when the quality of writing often takes a back seat to the quick thrill, or to be more precise, the quick buck. She writes as she paints, with careful, vibrant strokes of amazing clarity and color. Whether you are a reader or writer, teacher or student, you owe it to yourself read her work. You will be transported to a world where life is examined from a poet’s point of view, where you live in vignettes so real that you can’t help but love and care for the characters.

I have read all of Poznansky’s work, but this book resonated more deeply with me than all the previous titles, which I truly enjoyed. I suppose it is because I am an inveterate romantic. I ached for the young, “flashback” characters to come together. I shouted at them to wake up and smell the coffee when they missed opportunities to get together, and I reveled in the sweet endings when they finally connected.

The atmosphere of the 1940s is beautifully portrayed, and on a secondary level only to the (mostly) unrequited love story, it was my next treasured experience while reading this book. I loved the sounds and sights of the era, the music, the cars, and the lifestyles so well depicted. It was a fascinating dip into the life of those dynamic times.

If you are aching for a lyrical read, for something above and beyond the usual offerings in the field of fiction, I highly recommend you pick up a copy of Uvi Poznansky’s The Music of Us.

--Aaron Paul Lazar

www.lazarbooks.com

P.S. And don't you just love that cover art? Uvi is an amazing artist, as well. Check out her website at: http://uviart.blogspot.com/

Character Interviews as a Promotional Tool, by Aaron Lazar

copyright 2015, aplazar  

Hello, fellow writers and book lovers.

I hope you are enjoying this gorgeous autumn and that if you live where leaves fall, that you aren't too tired of raking them into piles. I just mow my leaves up with my trusty old John Deere and let it go at that - but then again, I live in the country, and nobody really cares. ;o)

I like to share promotional tools with my friends, and today I thought I'd bring up the idea of character interviews. "Imaginary" interviews can be a fun way to promote your books and also a unique vehicle to help potential readers fall in love with the "personalities" in your novels. Following is an example to get you thinking about your own characters and how they might answer such questions. You can even invent the interviewer, such as I did below with "Mary Malone."

Let me know what you think of this idea in the comments, and if you want, please "comment" as your character!

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Interview with Oscar Stone, family friend of Gus LeGarde, of the Gus LeGarde Mystery series. Mr. Stone was interviewed by Mary Malone, Genesee Valley news journalist. Transcribed from a video made at his house in Goodland Station.

MARY: Mr. Stone, I hope you don't mind being interviewed because of your connection with Gus LeGarde. It appears he's a bit busy with his large family and gardens right now. It's not that we aren't interested in you, Mr. Stone, but Professor LeGarde has been featured in quite a few mystery books lately that have been piquing the interest of local readers. 

OSCAR: I most certainly object to being interviewed for who I know, not for who I am (smiling). However, while my life as a historian and nature photographer is decidedly fascinating, it isn't newsworthy. And Gus has been through some hair-raising adventures over the past few years, which do warrant discussion. We are all rather proud of him, and we think of him as quite the hero, don't-you-know? 

MARY: I'll bet. Well, let's start at the beginning. How did you meet Gus? 

OSCAR: Gus LeGarde and I have been friends for the past few decades. When Gus's parents died within a few years of each other, he went through a serious depression. It was all my wife Millie and I could do to help him get through it. Just after Gus's mother died, our son, William, was killed in action in Viet Nam. Millie and I were distraught, and Gus and his wife, Elsbeth, kindly drew us into their lives. That's when we basically "adopted" each other. 

MARY: I'm sorry about your son, Mr. Stone. I'm sure my readers would join me in thanking him for his service to our country. Now, let's talk about Elsbeth. What's the story there? The author, Lazar, paints quite a picture of her murder. 

OSCAR: Ah, Elsbeth. I never knew a more fiery woman. She was beautiful, dark, wild. And, oh, what a pianist. She was about to begin a worldwide tour as a concert pianist when their daughter Freddie was born, and she gave it all up to stay home with the baby. Of course, that was almost thirty years before she was murdered.

MARY: What about the murder? 

OSCAR: It's an exceedingly unpleasant topic. Normally, I wouldn't discuss such private issues with you. However, since Gus has authorized the series to be published, I suppose it's acceptable, in this case.

The short version is that Elsbeth contracted cancer; it settled in her temporal lobe. Before the cancer diagnosis, we went years thinking she had a mood disorder, like bipolar. There was even a diagnosis of schizophrenia. She went through a number of neurologists. When the slow growing cancer was finally detected, it was too late. And the suicidal depression, caused by a tumor that affected the part of her brain that controls these things, overwhelmed her many a time.

We all thought she'd jumped off the cliffs of the Letchworth Gorge because of this misconception. Later, of course, we discovered that Harold, Gus's son-in-law, pushed her. He was trying to cover the embezzlement of her inheritance. He found her depression a convenience—especially since she'd tried suicide several times—and it was well-documented. I believe Mr. Lazar refers to this in his accounts of Gus's life throughout the series. It was awful. Just awful. We all thought she'd really jumped, until Harold was later revealed to be a monster. He's still in jail, of course. Thank God. 

MARY: What about Gus's house? Is it really as large and homey as Lazar paints it? 

OSCAR: (laughing): It is. We gather on Sundays for Gus's family feast. He's an amazing chef, with a talent for comfort food with a gourmet twist. He has a flare for it, that's for certain. One thing Lazar may misrepresent is the cleanliness of their home. Gus hates to do dishes. And the great room is often covered with toys and evidence of his grandchildren's forays into mischief. 

MARY: Who is "we?" Are all the people in Lazar's books really in Gus's life? 

OSCAR: Oh, yes. All of them, and more. Well, let's see. Of course, Millie and I are always there. There's Gus's new wife, Camille, and her daughter, Shelby. She's going to be quite the vocalist, let me tell you. But I digress. Camille's mother, Madeleine, is Gus's secretary. She's romantically involved with Officer Joe Russell, who's a wonderful lawman with a very healthy appetite. They live in Camille's old Cape Cod house, just down the road. Gus's daughter Freddie, now divorced from Harold, lives with Gus and Camille with her three children: Johnny, Marion, and Celeste. They are all cared for by the most capable housekeeper and nanny, Mrs. Pierce, who stayed on after caring for Elsbeth in her final days. Of course, that was five years ago now, although it seems like just yesterday. 

MARY: What about the giant? 

OSCAR (chuckling): Oh my goodness! How could I forget about Siegfried? Of course, he is our gentle giant. Siegfried was Elsbeth's twin brother, Gus's brother-in-law. Dear Siegfried has suffered from great challenges in his life, not the least of which was a childhood boating accident that left him slightly impaired. But he's a veritable gem. He lives in the carriage house beside Gus's barn, works at Freddie's veterinary clinic, and helps out around the property by watching the children and chopping wood. Oh, and he also tends the barn animals: two horses, several dogs, chickens, and an irascible rooster. Siegfried has shown amazing courage on more than one occasion, and has saved Gus's life several times. To be fair, Gus has done the same for him. It's been rather crazy around here lately. Too many villains invading our peaceful little town. 

MARY: How accurate are Lazar's books? I mean, regarding the actual plots. Does he embellish? Or are they relatively factual? 

OSCAR: They're quite factual. I have read all of Lazar's books, including his rough drafts for the yet unpublished works. He honors me by including me in his "inner circle" of readers and critique partners. Actually, my wife Millie and I do this together, and we do find plenty of typos. He tends to get carried away in the stories, and often forgets important things. Like my camera. He almost called it a Nikon in the first book, and it's a Leica. (Oscar raises an eyebrow) I've had to correct him on a number of items. But for the most part, he and Gus spend a lot of time together going over the actual events and timelines. Occasionally he waxes a bit poetic, delving into the descriptions of our valley in flowery detail. I would be more to the point, don't-you-know? But I suppose it works. His readers seem to enjoy the books. 

MARY: I've read the first two books in the series, Double Forte' and Upstaged. But you've read all ten of them? What's your favorite, so far? And when can we expect to see it in print? 

OSCAR: Oh, my. That's a tough one. I have soft spots in my heart for all of Lazar's books. I love FireSong, because that has such lovely historical connections with the Underground Railroad. And Under the Ice gives a great account of our once-in-a-lifetime ice storm. Then again, Mazurka is a waltz through Europe, rather delightful. Of course, the ones that feature me are probably my favorites, but don't forget, He writes four other series as well. Three of these books introduce another set of characters. Sam and Rachel Moore, who live not far from us, agreed to let Lazar document their recent adventures. Rachel is very brave, a strong woman. She has MS, don't-you-know? And his third series, called Tall Pines Mysteries, is set up in the Adirondacks. Very woodsy. 

MARY: You didn't tell me your favorite book, Mr. Stone. 

OSCAR (laughing): You must forgive the aging brain of an octogenarian. I tend to ramble. All right then, if you are going to push, I suppose I would choose Tremolo: cry of the loon. I love the way Lazar pits the innocence of Gus's childhood against the evil of the thief and murderer he faced in Maine as a child. And the descriptions of the Maine lake are just invigorating. Quite pristine and makes me imagine the aroma of pines, don't-you-know?

Now, Lazar has had a devil of a time finding a Hollywood producer to make his books into films. If you have any connections with powerful Hollywood producers, you must certainly put in a good word for him. He's a good fellow with a large family of his own, you know. He needs a nice advance. 

MARY (laughing): I certainly will, Mr. Stone. And I understand how difficult it is to break into the movie business. I have a few novels of my own, and understand the predicament all too well.

Thank you for your time. Perhaps we'll talk again, and next time I'll ask all about your work as East Groveland historian. 

OSCAR: You're quite welcome, young lady. And I'd be happy to regale you with the tales of long lost precious documents and local grave robbers. But we'll save that for another time. I need to let Tinkerbell out to go potty. She's dancing at the door. Drive safely, now. And watch out for villains.

***

I hope you enjoyed a little insight into Oscar Stone's mind. Remember, if you love to write, write like the wind!

Best,

Aaron Lazar
www.lazarbooks.com


Aaron Paul Lazar is obsessed with writing. He's completed twenty-four books to date, and has earned nineteen literary book awards. He writes mysteries, suspense, love stories, and more. You'll usually find him writing his heart out in the early hours of the day - preferably in the dark, quiet hours when no one else is awake in his bustling household.

Lost Shots, by Aaron Lazar

How long will it take before we can burn images stored in our brain onto a computer? Do you think it will ever come to pass? I hope so, because even though I used to dabble in art in college, I never inherited the landscape gene. I could do portraits, from live models or pictures, but I didn’t have the knack to capture a glowing sunset or wavy grasses, or a frothy seascape. Perhaps, with the proper training, I could make a decent stab at it, but for now the only way I can immortalize scenes of nature is through the lens or with my pen. Figuratively speaking, that is, since I haven’t written books with a pen and paper in many years.

Lately, I’ve been lamenting potentially award-winning photos that I’ve missed. Lost shots. Those showstoppers, the gorgeous scenes I couldn’t acquire because of unsafe driving conditions or a timetable that didn’t allow lollygagging. I still see them, clear as cold lake water, simmering and shimmering in my mind’s eye.

The first lost shot occurred one fall, many years ago. We’d been scurrying around all morning, getting ready to deliver chairs to our customers. One of my side jobs, besides engineering, writing, and photography, is chair caning. My wife does the hand caning, and I do the rush, splint, flat reed, and pressed cane. Every Saturday morning, we load up the van with chairs and head for Honeoye Falls and East Bloomfield, where we deliver them to the shops that hire us. My wife and daughter were with me that morning, since we were going to squeeze in a little breakfast at George’s, our favorite small town diner. We were hungry. We were late. And I forgot my camera. Of course, this was before iPhones with their handy dandy cameras.

It happened only five minutes from the house, and I’ll never stop kicking myself for not turning around to go back. The night had been cold, and the morning dawned sunny. Frost crackled under our shoes as we tromped across the lawn, and there was a freshness to the air, heightened by the icy morning. We traveled north on Lakeville-Groveland Road, and when we passed Booher Hill, I glanced eastward. This is one of my favorite stretches of land, where multiple layers of trees, fields, and hills delineate the ridges that cradle Conesus Lake. When the sun rises over the eastern shore, it kisses the lake valley with rose, orange, lavender, and hot yellow.

This morning, however, the sun had risen hours earlier. But what greeted my eager eyes was not the sun, but a cloud.

I’m talking about a fully-fleshed, cotton ball cloud. It sat directly on top of the lake, lying like a thick eiderdown on the water. This cloud was not filmy, like mist or fog. It wasn’t transparent. It was rock solid puffy white, and it rose at least 1000 feet over the lake, stretching north-south along fourteen miles of the narrow trench carved many years ago by a glaciers. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and fear I’ll never see it again.

The memory is sharp, but I really wish I could show it to you.

The next two scenes that haunt me happened in winter. The frustrating part was that I had the camera with me both times, but just couldn’t stop because it wasn’t safe to pull over on the snowy roads.

The first was a scene I pass every day on the way to work. Normally, I admire the textures and contrasts of this spot with an almost casual, see-it-every-day insouciance. I do take pleasure in the old barns, dilapidated farmhouse, antique cars in the open sided shelter, and the young Thoroughbred who paces in a small paddock. And each time I pass the old milk shed, I admire the faded white paint and the attractive timeworn look it has from years of exposure to sun and wind. My fingers itch for the camera here most mornings, but it’s private property, 6:30 in the morning, and its positioned near a country intersection, which makes it a bit awkward to stop and snap pictures of this venerable old building. 

This particular morning, however, snow blasted sideways across the road in such ferocity and beauty, it quickened my heartbeat. It was a fierce burst of white, constant and rippling, blinding whoever crossed its path. The contrast electrified me. Deep turquoise metal-sided barn, cement block barn nearby, white post and board fence swaying in the storm…they were simultaneously shadowed and revealed by the spraying snow.

But I didn’t stop. I worried about arriving late to work, and the sides of the road looked very slippery. So… another lost shot.

Later that week, they closed the whole county for whiteouts. I had to get home, I was determined to get home, and I sure as heck didn’t want to spend the night in my office. So, I spent an hour and a half dodging blinding whiteouts, and finally made my perilous way down Groveland Road, almost home. Another half mile, and I’d be safe in the driveway. 

And then I saw them.

Snow devils. Cyclones of white. Billowing and flowing over the hills to the west, up the sides of the valley, rolling across the fields like massive sheet-white tornadoes.

My jaw dropped. My insides thrilled. And I gripped the steering wheel tighter to stay in the snowy lane. I didn’t get the shot. Once again.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not really complaining. I’ve captured dozens of deeply satisfying photos  and have been blessed with pastoral scenes of breath-taking beauty year-round. I’ve snapped hundreds and hundreds of photos. But those lost shots… they keep haunting me. Which, I guess, is why I’ve written about them today. When visions haunt me, they spill out of my fingertips.

There is one consolation. The images still reside in my brain. And someday, maybe soon, I’ll download them and be able to show you. ;o)

***

Books by multi-award winning author, Aaron Lazar:

LEGARDE MYSTERIES

DOUBLE FORTÉ (print, eBook, audio book)

UPSTAGED (print, eBook, audio book)  

TREMOLO: CRY OF THE LOON (print, eBook, audio book)

MAZURKA (print, eBook, audio book)

FIRESONG (print, eBook, audio book)

DON’T LET THE WIND CATCH YOU (print, eBook, audio book)

THE LIARS’ GALLERY (print, eBook, audio book)

SPIRIT ME AWAY (print, eBook, audio book)

UNDER THE ICE (print, eBook)

LADY BLUES (print, eBook, and audio book) 

MURDER ON THE BREWSTER FLATS

THE RETURN

MOORE MYSTERIES

HEALEY'S CAVE (print, eBook, audio book)

TERROR COMES KNOCKING (print, eBook, audio book)

FOR KEEPS (print, eBook, audio book)

TALL PINES MYSTERIES

FOR THE BIRDS (print, eBook, audio book)

ESSENTIALLY YOURS (print, eBook, audio book)

SANCTUARY (print, eBook, audio book)

BETRAYAL (print, eBook, audio book)

LOVE STORIES

THE SEACREST (print, eBook, and audio book)

THE SEACROFT 

THE SEADOG

ROMANTIC THRILLERS

DEVIL’S LAKE (print, eBook, and audio book)

DEVIL’S CREEK

DEVIL'S SPRING

THE ASYLUM

WRITING ADVICE: 

WRITE LIKE THE WIND, volumes 1, 2, 3  (audio books)

Aaron Paul Lazar writes to soothe his soul. An award-winning, bestselling Kindle author of three addictive mystery series, thrillers, love stories, and writing guides, Aaron enjoys the Genesee Valley countryside in upstate New York, where his characters embrace life, play with their dogs and grandkids, grow sumptuous gardens, and chase bad guys. Visit his website at http://www.lazarbooks.com.