I hope you all had a blessed Thanksgiving. We spent it with our son, daughter-in-law, and several of her family members. Thanksgiving also marked the fifth week since Mom moved on in her journey.
I’m adjusting to my new normal without Mom. I find comfort in knowing she was ready to move on and now free from dementia. In my heart of hearts, I sincerely believe she is spending the holidays with those who moved on before her, like Dad, Grandma Hilda, my Aunt Margaret, and others we both loved and missed.
As you can see, we are putting up the Christmas decorations. Once again our tree is placed by the front door. We don’t have a big house, and it is the only place it fits! Plus we never use that door. As you can see, we have a “back” door on the other side of the room that leads to the back yard. We now need to decorate the tree.
I am also focusing my energy on a project I started almost a year ago, building my own online bookstore. I took a class on how to build the online store, and I hired an expert to help me. It took much longer than I originally anticipated, but when I started, I didn’t take into consideration the books I was scheduled to write, time I wanted to spend with Mom, and other realities of daily life.
But I finally did it! I officially opened my online bookstore without any fanfare.
Currently the only books available in the store, aside from two Havasu books, are Haunting Danielle and Anna J. McIntyre books in eBook format. We are working on the print books, and they will be available in the near future, including hardback books.
Since Tantor Media owns the audiobook rights to the Haunting Danielle series, and Dreamscape Media has the audiobook rights to The Coulson Family Saga, I won’t be selling audiobooks from my online bookstore. However, I will have links at my store helping you find where you can find the audiobooks.
This doesn’t mean Haunting Danielle or McIntyre eBooks will no longer be available at sites like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google, iTunes, or Smashwords. They will still be there. But at my store, I will be able to offer specials, discounts on bundles, and autographed copies.
Having my own store gives me both flexibility and independence. Authors have no real control over how major online bookstores do business, which may help or hinder book sales. For example, I know of authors who decided to put their eBooks exclusive on Amazon’s Unlimited program, only to have their accounts shut down because their books showed up (no fault to the author) on a pirate site, thus violating Amazon’s TOS. While many of those authors were eventually able to get reinstated, their stream of income stopped abruptly for days or weeks.
One time Barnes & Noble abruptly closed my account because they thought I was selling spicy books—I wasn’t. It took a while to work it out, and I often wonder if they would have reopened my account so quickly if it hadn’t been for all my loyal readers who sent them angry emails.
As an author, we have no control if someone else’s online bookstore suddenly closes down or decides not to list our books. Having my own online bookstore gives me a sense of security.
I urge you to stop by the store—its official name is Bobbi Holmes Books at the domain store, instead of dot com. Here is the link: https://bobbiholmesbooks.store
Like I said, it is a work in progress, and we still have a lot to do on the store. So stop by periodically and see what we’ve added!
Over on Booktok there has been some discussion aka drama about some wanting to keep politics out of the Booktok space. The irony in that for me, books are inherently political.
Before I continue, let me say that I have intentionally kept any blatant discussion of current politics off my Haunting Danielle social media pages. Those being my author page and Haunting Danielle page over on Facebook, and my Haunting Danielle newsletter.
I do this out of respect for my readers. You see, many of the emails and messages I receive from readers tell me how much they enjoy the Haunting Danielle series for the escape it affords them from the everyday stress of life, or from something they are personally dealing with. That being the case, I would rather my author pages be a safe place to escape, like my books.
Of course that does not mean I never discuss politics online. After all, I am a writer, and writers are compelled to express opinions. But I choose to do that on other spaces, such as this blog, or my private Facebook page.
I will be leaving a link to this blogpost in my Facebook author page, disclosing the topic in the title, thus giving the reader the option to come here and read this, or skip any discussion on politics.
Recently there was a bit of drama on my Facebook author page regarding a post I made about opening a Bluesky account and closing my Twitter aka X account. I will discuss that in a moment, but first, I want to explain why I believe books are inherently political.
I turn seventy this week. (Yikes, that sounds old!) When I was a little girl one of my favorite book series was Nancy Drew. Nancy Drew was an independent, smart, resourceful young woman who solved problems and didn’t wait for a man to save her. The men (boys) in her life respected her. She was probably my first feminist role model. Feminism is political.
Now let’s look at a classic Christmas story, after all, Christmas is just around the corner. The one I am thinking of is Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol. It is a story of a very rich man, who underpays and overworks his employee, ignores the medical needs of said employee’s family, which includes a special needs child. What could be more political than a story about the super-rich and the struggling working class?
Like I said, books are inherently political. Booktok is a space where readers discuss and recommend books, and in my opinion, banning politics from the space is no different than book banning.
Now back to the political drama that took place on my author page.
I have a number of social media accounts. My first was MySpace which I left for Facebook. This was pre-Haunting Danielle years. Back then my eldest nephew urged the family to jump over to the then new Facebook.
Over the years I have joined Pinterest, Linkedin, Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok. I haven’t been on Pinterest for a long time, and I rarely use Linkedin. I joined TikTok for Booktok a couple years ago, but stopped making videos when it looked as if the site might get shut down in the US. I still surf videos there and comment.
At one time the two social media accounts I used the most was Twitter and Facebook. What I liked about Twitter was the ability to find current conversations that interested me. For example, if I was watching a documentary on TV and wanted to discuss it with someone, I could type in the name of the documentary and hook up with other people watching and wanting to discuss the show.
Or, if there was a fire in my old hometown of Wrightwood, California, I could type in #fire #wrightwood in the search bar and discover the most current discussion and often firsthand news. It didn’t matter who the person was on the other end of the tweet, I would see his words. And if I responded to his tweet, everyone on the thread would see my response. Twitter of old gave us the ability to converse with the world, without having to gain some special status from the platform beforehand.
When Elon Musk took over Twitter it began to change. I found it super annoying that Elon’s tweets kept being shoved in my face. If I wanted to see what he had to say, I would follow him. But it wasn’t just that. Twitter, now X, no longer worked the same.
In frustration, I signed up for Threads to check it out, but I wasn’t a fan. Technically I may still have an account over there.
But then a couple weeks ago I started reading about authors leaving X for BlueSky. Some of them mentioned the new TOC rolled out by Elon. I decided to have a look, and where BlueSky claimed they would not be using our content to train Ai, X would. There were other sketchy things in the TOC that bugged me.
So I decided it was time to close down X. I had been considering it for a long time and had stopped using it over a year ago. I would occasionally pop over there to check on things, but the experience was always so frustrating, that I always left annoyed.
Over the years I have shared my social media profiles with readers, and I knew some followed me on X. I decided to let them know where I had gone so I posted the following message on my author page.
I finally decided to deactivate Twitter aka X. I’ll need to update my social media icons on some of my author pages and websites. I will put that on my to do list!After deactivating X, I opened an account at BlueSky. My account there is: @bajh.bsky.social
Wow, did a drama ensue! One reader blasted me for bringing politics to the page, claimed she would never buy another book from me, and after leaving a number of snarky posts blocked me before I had a chance to respond.
Another reader made a comment about hoping it wasn’t about politics, and another expressed her disappointment in me for bringing politics to the page, to which she did apologize when I clarified my reasons for that post.
But was I being political? If I am honest with myself, maybe unconsciously in a passive aggressive way.
The fact is, I am not a fan of Elon Musk. But did I leave X because of him? Only in that his changes to the site made me leave. Had Musk made no changes to how the site worked, I might not have deactivated my account.
Disliking the man, and not wanting to support him is understandable, but when it comes to X, I don’t think Musk cares if it crashes. It’s a toy to him. And while the money he spent to buy X could help so many people, to him it is a toy where he can be the center of attention and when he gets bored and finds another distraction he can use it as a tax write off.
Does this make me suddenly political? If you have read the first six books of the Haunting Danielle series, you know Chris Johnson. If you continued to read the books, you may also be familiar with his uncles. If it wasn’t for real life people like Elon Musk, the actions of Chris’s uncles would seem farfetched.
During my mother’s last eighteen months of life I visited her at least once a week at the memory care home. Typically, I would spend about four or five hours with her per visit. Prior to moving into the first care home, on May 1, 2023, Mom lived with my husband and me. She had lived with us for over twenty years.
But during those last couple years, as her mind drifted off into the hell that is dementia, I tried soothing’s Mom’s fears—the fear and terror that comes with forgetting one’s life—by telling her stories about that life. During our weekly visits, she would often ask me to tell her a story.
Mom passed away last Thursday, October 24, 2024. In leu of a traditional obit, I thought I’d retell one of the stories I often told Mom.
Once upon a time there was a little girl name Caroline. But everyone called her Baby, because she was the youngest in her family. She had an older sister named Margaret, who was a talented artist and also a bit of a tomboy, who would sometimes sock Caroline in the arm, but she was also protective of her little sister.
Caroline had three older brothers, Rod, Gene, and Ken, and a mother and father she adored. Caroline was well loved. Her parents owned El Monte Laundry and when Caroline was very little, she would take naps in the bin of warm clean towels at the laundry. She played with her cousins and had made many close friends in her little town of El Monte—many of whom she remained friends with throughout her entire life. Making lifelong friends says a lot about someone’s character.
But when she was eleven years old her father died suddenly of a heart attack. Caroline’s older brother, Gene, stepped in as a father figure. While Caroline loved all her brothers, she especially appreciated her brother Gene, for all he did, such as decorating the home on Christmas Eve and being there when she needed him.
Caroline also adored her mama, Hilda. And for a time, after her father died, she would sleep with her mama each night.
One day, Caroline wanted people to stop calling her Baby. She told her older sister she didn’t like the nickname anymore, so Margaret told everyone to stop calling Caroline Baby. And they did.
One day, when Caroline was in high school, a new boy walked into class. Unlike the other boys in her high school, he wasn’t wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was wearing nice slacks and a dress shirt. At the time, she didn’t know it was because he was from Michigan, and the high school boys in Michigan didn’t dress as casual as the high school boys in southern California.
While normally shy, Caroline felt confident surrounded by the kids she had grown up with. And when this new student walked into class, Caroline eyed the handsome young man, and in a sassy voice, she called out, “Hey Zoot!”
That boy was Walt Johnson, the young man she would marry a few years later. They would go on to have two daughters, Lynn and Bobbi. Caroline was a loving mother and traditional homemaker. Walt became a general contractor, and they lived in a custom home Walt built and designed.
But one day Walt wanted to go on an adventure, and Caroline, always wanting to support Walt, agreed to join him. They packed up their family and moved to Havasu Palms. Caroline moved from a beautiful custom home in Covina, California, to an old ten wide trailer located at the end of a twelve mile dirt road, on the shores of Lake Havasu. And Caroline worked beside her husband, to help his dream come true.
That’s pretty much the story I told Mom, countless times, over the last couple years. Earlier in her dementia we would discuss my father, and she would ask what happened to him. When I moved her into the memory care home we had a wall of family pictures, one was of my father, when he was in the Navy, before they married. Mom would ask, “Who is that man?” I would take the picture off the wall, show it to her, and tell her it was her husband, Walt, my father. She would look at the picture, smile, and say, “He was good looking.”
Over the last few years of this slow goodbye, I’ve learned some things about my mother, that I never understood before her dementia. I always knew she was shy. People often mistook her shyness for rudeness—or bitchyness. In truth, Mom was always generous, compassionate, and loved animals. She was also fiercely protective of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Because of this fierce love, sometimes her words lacked diplomacy.
But what I didn’t understand about Mom, she also lacked confidence. Apparently, she always felt as if she had no talent. During her last few years, she often spoke of her sister Margaret, who had passed away in 2013. In those conversations she would praise her sister’s artistic abilities. Mom would also praise me, telling me how proud she was that I was an author, and then she would go on to point out that unlike other members of our family, she had no real talent.
Mom was born in an era where women were raised to get married, have children, take care of their families, and basically, weren’t encouraged to have dreams beyond that narrow scope. I told mom she had been a wonderful mother, and then I asked her if there was something she had wanted to do, besides the traditional role she had taken.
To my surprise, she said writer. But why was I surprised? Mom had been writing in her journals for as long as I could remember. I was always a bit envious of how she had stuck to it, each year filling out a new journal. In the past, I had started journals, and never lasted more than a week or so. And here I am, a writer by profession.
I remembered it was Mom who nudged me in the direction which led to a career in writing. Back in high school, when selecting classes for my sophomore year, she encouraged me to take journalism. I hadn’t even considered journalism, and it ended up being a major part of my writing journey.
It’s not unusual for a child—even an adult child—to fail to see the entire person that is their mother. For years I failed to see the truth about my mother—she was a fellow writer. It had been there all along, right in front of my eyes. Mom had always been a voracious reader who filled our home with books. One thing about writers, we love to read, and we love books.
I also understand that Mom’s lack of confidence prevented her from pursuing writing beyond her private ledgers. When I realized how her love of reading and writing had helped propel my writing career, I shared that with Mom, and it seemed to give her a more positive perspective of herself. I also reminded Mom that while she may not have pursued a writing career, she was still a writer.
This late life epiphany about my mother takes on an even deeper meaning when I consider my granddaughter. My mother and granddaughter shared a special and beautiful bond. My granddaughter called Mom, GG. Like Mom and me, my granddaughter has an interest in writing. She would like to someday be an author.
All of this makes me smile, and while I write this, I can’t help but pause, glance upwards and tell Mom, see what you started? Three generations of writers.