I have been obsessed with finishing my two novels this year. Every spare minute I have is dedicated to my writing. And, God willing, both Vanished in Vallarta and Redneck Ranch will be published by the first of November.

As you all know, writing is a singular endeavor, until you have pages, chapters, a novel for someone to read, critique, edit. With these two novels, I’ve struggled with finding editors and Beta Readers.

After losing my first editor, my friend Sharon North, stepped in and took on both books. At first, I was disappointed that she didn’t like my villain in Vanished in Vallarta. After listening to her concerns and weighing them against how I’d hoped to show my villain in the story, I realized I’d been the one to let this character down. As I rewrote him, I not only showed his story better, but was also able to strengthen another character, both changes making the story stronger.

Sharon blessed me with a fabulous opinion of Redneck Ranch, which encouraged me to hand off the manuscript to my three Beta readers. These lovely women worked reading Redneck Ranch into their busy lives, while I improved Vanished in Vallarta. One of the things I find interesting is all three readers have found some of the same issues, but also problems separate from each other. Both Mary Eastman and Stacy Robinson loved Redneck Ranch, and as you’ve already guessed, their input and kudos helped me make the novel even better.

My final Beta reader, Cindy Schmid, a Montana girl through and through, made me aware of some specific story issues with regard to my descriptions of the Redneck Ranch. For instance, I decided the ranch could be five acres, but if I want to have horses and other animals, I need to picture a bigger spread. She also explained to me that Stone County, where my story unfolds, needed more history and fleshing out to make the fictional town of Stoneybrook, Oregon seem like a real place. I love creating characters and stories, but this is the first time I’ve actually created a county and town.

One of the reasons I wrote the novel, Redneck Ranch was to honor my Autistic son, Derrick, who passed away six years ago. Derrick always wanted to be a policeman or a sheriff, so I’ve created a fictional Deputy Sheriff named Derrick Austin Stone who always solves the crime in my novels and novellas. Obviously, losing Derrick was difficult and my journey to a place of zen was aided by the support of all the women I’ve named above and two friends who may not participate in the editing or reading phases of writing a novel, but their encouragement is priceless. Both Toni Hilton and Debbie Boutinen listen to my ideas about characters or my lamenting over whether the story is good, believable, or worth reading.

Cindy and Stacy are taking on the rewritten Vanished in Vallarta next and, with any luck, they will love the story as much as they did Redneck Ranch.

As I write this blog, I’m ensconced in my friend Cindy’s beautiful home in Montana on Whitefish Lake with Debbie, Sharon, and Toni. We’ve had a wonderful visit remembering how our friendships began, reminiscing about our younger days, and laughing about what old age has brough us so far.

The one thing growing old has taught me is the appreciation for the inspiration these friendships have brought me. Without their love, support, and shared interest in my writing I probably would have thrown in the towel years ago.

So out of something old, has come something new and I can’t wait to see what these few days with great friends will inspire in my next novel.

As a child, I recited the words of the Lord’s Prayer as I heard them. “Our Father who art in heaven, how Lord be thy name?” It made sense that you wouldn’t say an ordinary “Hi” to the Lord, and the word “hallowed” wasn’t yet in my vocabulary. Turns out, there’s a linguistic term for my mistake. I had committed an “eggcorn.”

A woman who misheard the word “acorn” inspired the coinage. “From little eggcorns mighty oaks do grow.” My favorite eggcorn is a twist on the idiom “raked over the coals.” Recounting the story of a bad day at the office, a friend informed me that she’d been “raped over the coals.” I figured it was probably a mistake, but she worked for litigators. It wasn’t impossible.

The difference between an eggcorn and a malapropism is plausibility. Mrs. Malaprop, a fictional character in a 1775 play by Richard Sheridan, was forever inserting a nonsensical, out-of-context word in place of the similar sounding correct word. Malapropisms are constantly creeping into political discourse. Former Chicago Mayor Daley touted “Alcoholics Unanimous” and Australia’s Tony Abbott reminds us that “No one is the suppository of all wisdom.”

Misunderstood song lyrics are called mondegreens, a word derived from an old Scottish ballad. “They hae slain the Earl O’Moray and laid him on the green.” The writer Sylvia Wright heard it as “They hae slain the Earl O’ Moray and Lady Mondegreen.” Credence Clearwater gave us a memorable mondegreen in their hit “Bad Moon Rising.” Was that last line “There’s a bad moon on the rise” or “There’s a bathroom on the right”?

Jeanne Matthews is the author of the Dinah Pelerin mysteries.  Her most recent novel is Devil by the Tail, an historical mystery set in Chicago just after the Civil War.