Widowhood 101 - Starting over

Punta Sur Isla Mujeres.   

"No one prepares us for this, at all, although, I'm not sure that a book titled Widowhood 101 would become a best seller. Who would want to read it? No one wants to think about it, even after it lands in their lap," wrote Sherwood Freeman Anders.

That recent heartfelt comment from a Facebook friend got me thinking last night about what I have learned about myself this past year. Sherwood and I have never met, but we have bonded through grieving for our spouses. September 3rd, was the first anniversary of Lawrie's death, and I have survived. It doesn’t matter if you are male or female – losing your life partner rips your world apart.

Charles, Gary, Dave, Barney and Lawrie 

It hasn’t been a fun year. It has been a year of discovery. I have discovered I am strong and resilient and I can cope with the devastation of losing one-half of my universe, my partner of almost forty years.

I have slowly adjusted to my new reality. In the past, he and I unconsciously divided up the chores around the house depending on our preferences. He enjoyed grocery shopping especially on Isla where he would run into the same group of guys and have a thirty-minute social visit right in the store. Me, I only like to shop when it is absolutely necessary and since Sparky can’t drive, choose items, push a shopping cart, or pay the cashier that means I am in charge of keeping our fridge stocked. Yesterday was one of those I-really-have-to-shop days. Nothing in the fridge, nothing in the cupboards. Sparky and Boo looked at me with ‘what the hell?’ expressions on their fuzzy little faces.

The one time he helped paint a house.

When it comes to painting a whole house or just a room – that is my specialty. I love the instant gratification of fresh paint. The very first time we painted a room together, Lawrie conveniently kicked over a full can of white paint on the dark brown bedroom carpet. “Oops! Sorry,” He insincerely apologized. 

He never had to endure that chore again, unless of course it was to restore a car; that was his pleasure, his stress release. I was the lowly tape-and-paper assistant for his many restoration projects. I'll amend that; he hated painting with a brush, but spaying was okay. When we put our Bowen Island house up for sale he rented a huge commercial sprayer and we took turns painting the rambling pile of buildings. 

Lawrie painting another car.

Lawrie was never a detail person when it came to banking or paying bills. That was my job, except the American Express invoice that went to his email and he would tell me how much and when it was due. Now, Am-Ex has an automatic debit system in place. Thankfully my reading addiction purchases from Amazon are magically paid.

Then there is gardening; I planted. He watered. Now, I look out my kitchen window and realize the flowers are wilting in the tropical heat I remember this is now my job; along with maintaining the golf cart, polishing the stainless-steel sign with the name of our house, raking the beach sand, and adding water to the swimming pool.

Lawrie liked my idea of raking in a circle. 

This year I decided to change a few things around the house. I added a security gate and replaced the two aging palapas with concrete structures. 

In Canada, Lawrie and I had always shared remodeling jobs. He liked to do the electrical and plumbing while I enjoyed dirty messy tile work and painting. I discovered that overseeing a renovation project while stumbling along in my limited Spanglish was easy. I am very pleased with the results.

Street-side palapa replaced with concrete.

I guess the most important thing I have learned about myself is I can still enjoy writing books. 

I originally thought that perhaps without my muse I would experience writer’s block, freeze up and doubt myself. I didn’t. I used my grief to push on and create two more novels since his passing.

Temptation Isla was launched on January 23^rd this year, and now Terror Isla on September 3^rd. 

I deliberately chose September 3^rd in commemoration of my love for Lawrie, and to keep my brain occupied with something other than grieving.

Sparky - publishing Terror Isla 

It’s been an emotional year and a very odd year. At times it seems as if he has only been gone a day or two at the most and other times it seems to be an eternity. Son John and his family, Lawrie's many family members, my family, and our friends are still grieving for him. Conversations are teary and telephone calls are difficult. 

But, I frequently talk to Lawrie. Sparky sometimes gives me a look, if you know what I mean.

The listening apps on Facebook, WhatsApp, and Google probably are confused by my one-sided conversations. I recently saw a funny message on my Kindle Reader; conversation not intended for Alexa. That’s what prompted me to include the listening apps in the story-line of Terror Isla.  

I am not lonely for people, I am only lonely for Lawrie.

Strength and peace to all of you who have lost your life-partner.

Lynda & The Sparkinator

~

 Now available on Amazon Terror Isla, 

Book #5 of the Isla Mujeres Mystery series.

Buy now - Terror Isla

House name versus actual street address! (Lawrie's quirky preference versus Andy's organized method)

3 houses built about the same time - consecutively numbered

"How did you decide on number 305 for your casa?" I asked Andrew Whitney that question a few years ago. Yumiko and he had just finished building their beautiful home. It is located across from the Isla Mujeres PeMex station on Prolongación Aeropuerto 
also known as Circunvalacion Aeropuerto. 

"It's on your property tax invoice. It's the number near the end of your address, your dirección." He replied. 

Singing Water - maybe.

"Huh! We've lived here a lot longer than you, and we never knew that." I checked our property tax invoice, and sure enough there it was - #267. I immediately wanted to add our number to the outside of our house, but my sweetie, Lawrie, wasn't having any part of that. He liked the European-style quirkiness of having just a name.
When we originally named our house Casa K'aay Há, we thought we were calling it the Mayan equivalent of Singing Water.  

However, depending on which Maya friend I ask, the name can mean Singing Water, Song Water, or Fish of the Sea! 

A hint for new home owners; when you name your house keep it simple and understandable. It will save you hours of explaining. I picked the name of our casa, but it is difficult to pronounce correctly and taxi drivers don't typically understand what I am staying. I have learned to say cerca near the basketball dome on Airport Road - in Spanglish. It's just simpler.

I think this one has changed to #297

Most of our nearby neighbours originated from Canada or the USA. We are accustomed to a numbering system that has odd numbered house on one side of the street, and even numbered houses on the other side. The numbers typically radiate out from the centre of the town or city, increasing in numerical value further from the centre. We were required by law to affix our assigned number in a visible location on the outside of the house to assist the emergency services such as police, fire and ambulance to and ensure that the postal employees could find the address. The inevitable happened, and the foreigners starting numbering their casas. 

When I discovered that Andy had figured out the 'real' house number, I emailed four of our nearby friends to ask what they used as an official addresses. We all live on the east side of the street within a two-block area of each other. Of the four friends I received four different addresses. One lives on Carretera Perimetral, two live on Circunvalacion Aeropuerto, and another lives on Carretera Garrafon. 

Brent and Dé have the correct numbers and a name

Some of us apparently live in the neighbourhood of Colonia Rancho Alegra, while the others don't. 

Along this road there are several lots numbered 1, or 2 or 3 because every time the Manzana number changes – that's the M204 in our address – the lot numbers start over again. 

Casa des Tortugas - Rob & Julie's 

Many of our friends have attempted to number their houses with something recognizable, something that makes sense and the result is quite interesting: #216 is south of #305, which is south of #20. In other words if you were driving from the centre of town trying to find a specific number you would see #20, then #305, then #216. It's a good way to keep everyone guessing!

Chuck and Marcy's house

Other friends have chosen humorous names for their houses in an attempt to be easily located by postal workers, delivery personal, or emergency services.  A number of local folks just put a plaque with their family name on the house, and that works too. 

On the other hand the address that we thought was correct is actually the legal description of our property. It is a bit of a mouthful: Lote #3 Circunvalacion Aeropuerto Super Manzana 02, Manzana 204 Isla Mujeres QR 77400 Mexico. 


I recently wrote that 'address' on our post box because it matches the electrical and water bill descriptions. The utility invoices are hand delivered at the end of the month and sometimes were inappropriately dropped-off at a nearby house. One month the deliveries were off by two houses up and down the street, necessitating a complicated and laughter-filled swap with friends. Since I added the description to my mail box three months ago, I have been receiving the correct invoices. (Now, I have probably jinxed my success.)

So, what's your address?  It's a simple question that often leads to long descriptive directions, similar to – we live in Colonia Cañotal next door to so-and-so's house, across from the Mini Super, look for a yellow house with green and white trim. 

It's part of the charm of living in Mexico. 

Chat soon,
Cheers
Lynda and The Sparkinator

Get ready for September 3rd! 

Terror Isla 

Book #5 of the Isla Mujeres Mystery 

series will be live on Amazon, either as an e-book or paperback. 

(Nook, Kobo, and iTunes will be available later in September.)

Murder and mayhem! Revenge and Romance!

How to be a self-published author, my version!

February 2014 sending my first book to printers

At least once a month someone asks me, “How did you become an author?”

I stifle my self-conscious giggles and admit, “it just kinda ... happened.”

In 2008, I thought my husband Lawrie’s idea of retirement in paradise was an amazingly brilliant plan – but after five years I was bored silly. I needed something to occupy my brain so I taught myself to write and publish books. 

But that’s not exactly what the person is asking when they say how did you become an author. What they really want is for me to tell them in a twenty-minute conversation, what has taken me years to learn.

Lynda and Diego Medina (Illustrator)

With this vocation the learning curve only goes one way – up, it never flattens out or descends. There is always something more to figure out. Perhaps it is a change in Kindle Direct Publishing or different ideas on how to manage your keywords so that your soon-to-be-world-famous-novel will even show up when readers search for their particular interests. I am still discovering more information every single day.

My first book was an illustrated bilingual book for children, The Adventures of Thomas the Cat - Las Aventuras de Tomás el Gato. Two island friends Caroline Beebe and Harriet Lowe, gave me a gentle shove - right between the shoulder blades. They suggested I write a children’s book.

I told Lawrie what I planned to do. He said, “Great! Do it.” He was always up for a new adventure.

So, I did.

How much do they weigh? 38 boxes of books

I needed an illustrator – Diego Medina became that person. I needed translators – Maura Medina and Christy Dix helped with that. I needed to get the books printed – I searched Mexico, the USA, and Canada for affordable printers, and in the end, ordered direct from China. The shipment took two months to travel from China to the western side of Mexico, across the country by truck, and then finally arrived in Cancun.

Then, Lawrie and I drove into the city, loaded the boxes, drove home, and unloaded the boxes. The next day we humped them up nineteen stairs to our storage area on the second floor and later celebrated with a cold cervesa.

As a self-published author, an Indie (Independent), I am the writer, the marketing director, the accountant, the warehouse staff, and the delivery person.

Sparky - I'm bored with this writing stuff!

Wearing my writer’s cap, I find a different way to phrase a sentence, come up with plot ideas, invent characters, and make stuff happen to my imaginary people. I also load the manuscript into publishing programs and search for formatting errors. Each book can take several hours of reviewing, reformatting, and re-posting. I write the marketing blurbs and sometimes I am the photographer for the covers. Our friend Tony Garcia’s beautiful photographs grace the covers of my first three novels; Treasure Isla, Trouble Isla, and Tormenta Isla. I used my photos for Temptation Isla, Terror Isla, Twisted Isla, and Tangled Isla because the photos just happened to suit the mood of the titles.

I was stuck in banos at fair

As the marketing director, I continuously monitor my Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, Bookbub, and worldwide Amazon profiles and pages. Amazon has many different markets that require individual updates for author profiles. It’s time-consuming, but I do get a few sales from other countries other than just the USA, Canada, and Mexico. I have learned lots of different terms like Search Engine Optimization and keywords. With a very small, almost non-existent marketing budget I frequently ask or beg for reader reviews to be posted on Amazon, Goodreads, or Bookbub. Reviews make a big difference to the visibility of a book when a potential buyer is searching for something new to read. 

(Did you catch that? I managed to squeeze in another plea for a review.)

Another part of my marketing responsibilities is to participate in local artist's fairs. Selling books one-on-one is rewarding both financially and personally, but time-consuming and tough on my feet and knees. 

Copies that need collating for editing 

As the office manager, I keep track of expenses and revenue hoping that one day the revenue will be more than the expenses, a lot more. Paperback copies that I sell on the island are subject to shipping and importation fees. Amazon takes a big bit out of my revenue for income tax holdback because I am not an American citizen, and for hosting my listings, printing the paperbacks, electronically delivering the e-books, and promoting my books. Promoting-ish. The Amazon machine primarily pushes the successful authors. Perhaps one day that will be Sparky and I.

The warehouse manager, yep, that’s me, takes delivery from the Fed-Ex or DHL driver then humps the thirty-five-pound boxes of books up our spiral staircase, sets up the displays at artist fairs or book signings, and delivers copies to retailers and or guest houses on the island. The warehouse staff – me again – also ensures there is sufficient stock on hand to cover island sales.

2016 the Artist Fair on Isla

As an Indie author (Independent) I rely heavily on the kindness of friends. I have a gang of volunteer editors and proofreaders who do a fantastic job of catching my mistakes. Carmen Amato, a very successful author of the Detective Emilia Cruz series re-designed my first two covers. My friend Diego Medina has created the last three book covers. I have a group of local friends who willingly share stories about growing up on the island. They are the folks who help make my stories authentic.

Sparky and I are still working on the rich and famous thing. As it stands, Sparky enjoys a small steak on Saturdays and I treat myself to a favourite bottle of red vino. He’s famous, I’m his lesser-known servant, and we’re definitely not rich.

Has anyone else noticed a recurring theme in this blog post? I do this. I do that. And Sparky does what? I need to renegotiate his contract.

If you are truly interested in becoming an author just get in there and do it. It’s hard work, it’s fun, and for me very satisfying to create something out of thin air.

I really miss Lawrie’s insightful assistance and our celebration after the successful launch of yet another book. Tuesday, September 3^rd will be the first anniversary of his passing, and I am pushing hard to have Book #5, Terror Isla available on Amazon to commemorate him.

My assistant 2017

Chat soon, cheers

Lynda & Sparky

Things to do, scores to settle and people to kill.

Copyrighted photos and excerpt from Book #2 Isla Mujeres Mystery series:

Trouble Isla - Book #2

 

Chapter 1

The long, sleek sport-fishing boat powered slowly backwards into a berth at the Bally Hoo wharf on Isla Mujeres. Her white hull and varnished decks glistened in the bright overhead security lights. A lean figure dressed in khaki shorts, short-sleeved white shirt and deck shoes stepped onto the dock, wrapping the stern line around a bollard as the captain expertly settled the craft. The skipper cut the engines, removed the ignition key and stepped away from the controls.

The deckhand’s shaved, pale head gleamed under the overhead lights, and his short beard looked recent, as if he hadn’t shaved for a few days. Moving along the length of the boat, securing lines and placing heavy foam bumpers between the dock and the hull of the pricey yacht the man looked competent and comfortable around the water. It was a ruse, he didn’t know much at all about big yachts like this one but he was a quick study.

According to the first mate this baby was a classic, a beautifully maintained wooden yacht, custom-built on Harkers Island in North Carolina. Even a tiny scratch in the glossy finish would earn them an ear chewing from the boss.
The owners were due to fly in from Houston in time to celebrate New Year’s Eve on the island. Then they were scheduled for a few weeks of deep-sea fishing, eating and drinking before they returned to their home in Texas, leaving the captain and the two deckhands to bring their yacht back to its home berth at Seabrook Marina.

“It’s still damn early, but I’ll go ashore to see if anyone is available to process us through customs,” the captain said, gathering up his waterproof document folder and stepping over the transom. “If not, I’ll radio Cancun to tell them we’re here and will check in later in the morning.”

“Aye, aye Skipper,” the man said, offering a two-fingered sardonic salute to the back of the departing captain.

“Jeff, wait up. I’ll go with you and stretch my legs,” the short red-haired man said as he nimbly hopped onto the docks.  He turned to the man, “Frank, you okay to stay with her until we get back?”

The man, the one they knew as Frank, waved, “Sure, Andy take your time,” he said.  Remembering a humorous sign that he had seen in a bar on his previous visit to Isla Mujeres he mumbled, “And thank you very mucking futch for the ride.” 

It had been free transportation back to his hunting grounds.

It had been a busy three days for the man known as Frank. First, he had hitched a ride from Tampa to Houston with an accommodating long-haul truck driver. Parked behind a truckers’ gas station well away from the security cameras that were aimed at the fuel pumps, the body of the driver was now stinking up the cab of his rig. The driver’s death had been unavoidable as soon as he had agreed to give the hitchhiker a lift to Texas. The passenger’s clean-shaven image had been splashed across television news channels as one of the suspected fatalities in a fiery vehicle smash-up. Even with the beginning of a new beard and shaving off his dark hair he couldn’t risk leaving the driver alive. Most truckers were lonely gossips and this one had been very talkative. In no time at all, he would be telling his buddies he had dropped off that same man in Houston.


It had then taken him another full day to scour the numerous marinas for a captain who was leaving shortly, heading to Isla Mujeres for the sport fishing season. The third day was eaten up with the voyage to the island.

Inside the main salon, Frank checked the time. If he remembered correctly from his previous visit to the island he had seen the harbour masters office located a short walk south, close to the passenger ferry terminal.  He probably had thirty to forty minutes tops, but at this hour of the morning it wasn’t likely anyone would be available to do the paperwork, so the two men would probably be back in twenty minutes. Time to move.

He quickly walked to his berth and slipped on a dark nylon windbreaker, pulling a peaked cap down over his skull. Once the sun was up he planned to wear a pair of dark sunglasses to hide his bright blue eyes.

A few minutes spent searching the other sleeping areas netted him about a two hundred and fifty dollars in cash and a small Nikon camera that he might be able to pawn for a few bucks.  He was owed a portion of that for the sixteen hours he had already worked so he felt confident the men wouldn’t try to find him for such a small amount.

The captain, Jeff Crompton, had hired him on for cash wages to be paid at the end of the two weeks, but he had never asked for identification or a passport. He supposed Crompton didn’t really care if a deckhand was thrown in a Mexican jail for not having the proper paperwork. He could likely check around the gringo bars and hire another American, someone who wanted to work for a few weeks and have free transportation back to the States.

The blue-eyed man checked the time. Gotta go. Things to do, scores to settle and people to kill.

Available as an e-book on Amazon, iTunes, Kobo, or Nook. Paperback copies are available from Amazon. If you are on the island you can purchase a copy at  Jenny Penny Beach Boutique or Casa Sirena Hotel. 

Isla Mujeres Mysteries are the perfect beach-read for your next vacation.

Treasure Isla - Book #1 The Great Crocodile Hunt

Copyrighted photos and excerpt from Book #1 of the Isla Mujeres Mystery:

Treasure Isla

“A crocodile. What the hell?” Jessica Sanderson quickly scanned the ground around her feet, as if she expected to see large gap-toothed reptile preparing to latch onto her well-toned and tanned leg. “Why doesn’t the municipality just get rid of him? Them? The whole damn bunch?”

Thinking Jessica’s reaction excessive and humorous, Yasmin Medina slanted a teasing grin at her. It wasn’t often that her gutsy friend was nervous about anything. “Crocodiles are native to Mexico. The locals think it’s kind of cool to have a family of them on the island. It’s also a great way for parents to threaten misbehaving kids. Be good or the crocodile will get you.” Contorting her face she growled. “Muhuhuh.”

Scanning the pathway for wayward reptiles, or lurking pirates, Yasmin continued her story, and “Alfredo does escape from time to time. A few years ago he managed to find his way from the lake to the ocean on the eastern side of the island.


“Are you kidding me? Then what happened?” Theatrically shivering, Jessica peered towards the lake.
“The hunt was on. The police were notified. The municipality workers turned out in force. The Navy sent two guys with rifles. Everyone including a crowd of about fifty locals trailed along the eastern coastline trying to get pictures. He was fast. By the time I heard what was happening and caught a ride with a friend, the crocodile was already swimming past the backside of the Navy base at the northern end of the island.”

“How did they catch him?” The story was beginning to intrigue Jessica.
Yasmin pointed towards another pathway, “Let’s head up here and see where it goes.” She ran a hand over her face, trying to squeegee the sweat from her eyes, before continuing the story.

“Well, three fishermen managed to toss a net over the beast and haul him into their boat. After a ton of photos with the various policía, Navy and harbour guys pretending that they had caught him, Alfredo was put back in his lake here at the park.” Yasmin stopped for a minute to peer down an abandoned well. Nothing.

“Check my Facebook page. I posted an album labeled, The Great Crocodile Hunt.”

“Crocodiles, what next?” grumbled Jessica as she trudged along the gravel pathway. “And besides why call it Alfredo? If you are going to name the evil bastard, name him Carlos after our boss, or César after the guy that was lurking around the bar last month, but not Alfredo. Alfredo is a better name for an alligator.”

A smile quirked Yasmin’s lips, “There are no alligators in Mexico, they only live in the USA or China. I don’t know what the crocodile’s name is. I just named him Alfredo to tease one of my cousins.

Besides, I think Carlos Mendoza is hot.” Just the thought of him made her heart tap dance a little.

~

Murder and mayhem. Revenge and romance!

E-books and paperback copies are available from Amazon. If you are on the island buy a copy at  Jenny Penny Beach Boutique. It's the perfect beach-read for your next vacation.

Yep, I'm looking at you! Have you read about me yet?

Yep, I'm looking at you!

I'm Sparky and I'm one of the main characters in the Isla Mujeres Mystery series. In my opinion I am the main character. That will be a future negotiating point with my author. Does anyone know a good contract lawyer?

I digress. 

I am a handsome pure-bred Mexican low-rider, beach-dog, and I have an extraordinary sense of smell that helps me solve the mysteries.

I have curly white and grey terrier fur, with long dark Spaniel-type ears, and expressive brown eyes. (That's what my author says.) Pretty cool, right?

This is my author and me on my "Gotta Day"

I am also fiercely protective of my humans - real and imaginary - which occasionally gets me into trouble in the novels. I haven't actually bitten anyone, but I would to protect my family. I might be short, but I am fierce. 

When I was about a year-and-a-half old my first owner left me to fend for myself. I was afraid of humans, covered in fleas and ticks, and hungry. 

A very nice lady by the name of Yumiko and her husband Andy convinced me I was safe taking food and water from them. They also untangled the knots in my fur, gave me a haircut, and pulled off a whole lot of those painful, nasty ticks.

Unfortunately they didn't live here in Mexico, they were only here for a short time - so they played a trick on their friends.

The day Thomas' books arrived at our casa.

While their friends were on holidays from their home here in paradise Andy and Yumiko babysat their two cats, Thomas and Chica. But by the time the friends came back to their house, they had the two cats and me! 

I thought it was a great trick. I had a nice home to live in - and the people gained an amazingly brilliant dog!

Even though Thomas was the big star in those days he was nice to me, the new kid. He has his own bilingual book for children, The Adventures of Thomas the Cat. Chica is included in the book as well. 

I wasn't in the family then so I am not in that book, but I am the star in four and soon to be five mystery novels. 

Boo, doing what cats do best - sleeping!

Thomas and Chica are both gone now to pet heaven, and I have a new roommate, a black female cat named Boo. Nope, we didn't name her. Someone else in the neighbourhood did. She adopted us, and comes and goes as she pleases. She isn't as friendly as Thomas or Chica, but she is learning.

In the sunlight her fur has dark red, and orange tones so she isn't a pure black cat.  She also tried to come with us this morning on a golf cart ride. Silly cat. Golf carts are for dogs - not cats.

I'm keeping my eye on you!

Gotta go help my human make lunch. I'll chat again another day. 

Cheers Sparky 
(The Sparkinator!)

Murder and mayhem. Revenge and romance.

Isla Mujeres Mystery series

Grab your copy today! 

Available on Amazon as e-books or paperback.

Temptation Isla - A real page turner!

Beck M

5.0 out of 5 starsA Real Page Turner!

February 2, 2019

I've enjoyed every book in Lynda Lock's mystery/ adventure series set on Isla Mujeres , but you won't be able to put Temptation Isla down once you start it! 

The adventures of Yazmin and Jessica continue in this new book with a twist involving the cartel and human trafficking. 

You're gonna love this one!!!

Buy all 4 with one click!