Green by Kristin Anderson


Have you ever seen an image that stirs you within? Reminds you of childhood, of longing, of romance, of hope, of nature, anticipation? I had such an experience when I encountered Catrin Welz-Stein’s digital artwork online, especially her painting The View. I looked at that painting and decided I had to order a poster.

Then, as I was working on the final draft of my debut novel, I imagined her beautiful image on the cover of my book. But it wasn’t quite right for my book. I needed a more contemporary version of this same piece. I needed to lift the melancholy out of the clouds and add anticipation and hope. 

But that was a dream, after all. I couldn’t just contact a Swiss artist in Kuala Lumpur out of the blue and ask her if I could not only use her artwork for the cover of my book, but alter it. Could I? Well, if there’s one thing I learned from Doctor Seuss, it’s that you don’t know until you try and it never hurts to ask.

So I contacted her. 

After working with her over the internet for a number of months–me sending mock-up drafts, and she providing her thoughts on composition, color, balance, we developed an idea that suited both of our needs. I called upon my husband’s graphic design skills, and got the final version approved!

Green by Kristin Anderson
Green by Kristin Anderson

I am so excited about my book launch coming up on Saturday, November 16th, 2013, when I will officially release this book into the world. Like more info? Check out my author blog: http://www.authorkristinanderson.com or Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/authorkristinanderson

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Versailles in the Summertime


DSC_6820Versailles in the summertime–almost sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Visiting the Palace of King Louis the XIV and the world-famous gardens surrounding this majestic estate. In many ways, it was romantic. Strolling through the gardens that seem to stretch endlessly gives you a sense of royalty.
DSC_6792 You forget your sandals, striped sun dress and broad straw hat, and envision yourself in yards of silk with a jewel-encrusted parasol in your gloved hand. White marble statues of Greek and Roman Gods and Goddesses line the gravel paths; you are in good company. Fountains abound, each out doing the other.

But then I'm only painting half the picture; Versailles in the summertime means that you have more for company than the Gods and stately grounds–the gardens and palace are besieged and overflowing with tourists, and you are but a raindrop in the downpour of tourism, together creating a wave so thick that there is barely enough oxygen within the regal rooms of the palace to stand.

Although the garden allows for throngs of people, the palace, with its walls, closed windows and roped-off areas, despite it's grandeur and high ceilings, breeds claustrophobia. I wanted to pause and take in the beauty all around me, but I couldn't take it. Perhaps those who ride the Paris or New York subway on a regular basis could handle it better than me.
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I love architecture and museums, but crowds don’t give you the space for a contemplative mind. You are all elbows, one hand holding fast to your purse or wallet, the other pulling your little one close by to protect him from being squashed. It wasn’t that bad the entire time, but some of the smaller rooms, lined with velvety wall paper, high columns bedecked with lion heads, each and every space ornately decorated, felt like collaborative tourniquets on my nature-loving mind–I just had to get out as quickly as possible. I believe that if there had only been a mere 50 people in the room instead of 150, I could have taken in all of this opulence with more grace and appreciation.
DSC_6859 wallpaper in Versailles

Love Stories


When I was little, like eight or nine, I played piano. I had a songbook of popular hits and one of the songs I enjoyed was called Love Story. It had this haunting, sad melody. If I was feeling distraught about something or just moody, playing this song seemed to pull me deeper into my emotions. I didn’t know at the time that Love Story was the theme song to a really sad romantic movie of the same title. My mom must have known, must have seen the movie even, but she never told me about it. Or if she did, it didn’t hold my interest.

So just a few weeks ago, I rented the 1970s film Love Story as a bit of research on the romance genre. It was on multiple lists of all time best romantic films. I recognized the Love Story theme immediately when I was trying to turn off the subtitles, and as the melody connected me with that childhood melancholy, I knew I was in for an emotional rollercoaster.

When the film was over, I immediately went to my husband. Teary-eyed and sniffly, I hugged him, telling him how happy I was to have already had ten wonderful years with him. In other words, this movie played an e minor concerto on my heart strings, rendering me sappy, emotional and aware of the love and happiness in my life.

Is this what we want in a romance? To connect to the love in our own lives? Absolutely. A tragic ending? Occasionally, when done well (Romeo and Juliet for example). As far as tragic love goes, I would never change the ending of Love Story. It is a perfect composition, from the moment they meet in the university library to the father and son passing each other in the turnstile door of the hospital.

But is this what we want most of the time? Um, no. We romantics prefer a happy ending. In fact, if you read through articles and posts on the romance genre, people expect a happy ending. I’m not saying we always want fluff, but we want romance, a good story and happiness.