Sheritta Bitikofer's Blog, page 7

Something About Sheritta #16

[image error]Do you prefer to write in silence or with noise? Why?

I used to be able to write with classical music or ambient noise in the background, but lately I’ve been finding that more difficult to do without stalling in my train of thought. So, now I prefer silence or the occasional white noise (rain, laptop fan, dog snoring, etc). The music used to help me really get deep into the scene, and my focus hasn’t shifted, but I guess something in my brain has and music is more distracting than helpful.

Civil War Expedition: Shiloh and Corinth

Here’s my video blog for one of my most recent Civil War Expeditions. October 6th, I was in Shiloh and Corinth to get a full grasp of what this series of victories meant for the fate of the Confederacy and how they influenced the victory for the Union.

Included in the video is a few snippets from the infantry demo at the Corinth Civil War Interpretive Center, taken during their special event to mark the 155th battle anniversary.

Something About Sheritta #15

[image error]How did you come up with the title of your first novel?

Now, if we look at the first book I finished (which hasn’t been published yet), we’re talking about “The Rose”. I chose that name because the main female character’s full name is “Annabelle Rose”, but she goes by “Belle”. This kind of echoes for Beauty and the Beast, but also in the story, the male protagonist picks her a fresh rose every day for her table. I also love the concept of the rose when comparing it to the depth of a character. Like an onion, roses have many layers and even when it fully blooms, you can’t always see its innermost core. Belle, in this story, is the flower and she hasn’t bloomed yet. She (like me) suffers from social anxiety at times and doesn’t open up to others easily. But as the story progresses, she does bloom and her petals are unfurled to show her true, beautiful self.

Something About Sheritta #14

[image error]Where were you born/grew up?

So, I actually hate trying to answer this question. I was born in Louisiana, but the first five years of my life there are pretty blurry. I remember bits and pieces like saying goodbye to my dad during one of his visits to the house we lived in, packing up my stuff with my cousins when they came to help me and mom move to Florida, visits to my step-mom’s house about an hour away, and little things like that. Where I “grew up” was Florida. I’ve spent the majority of my life in Florida and that’s where most of my childhood memories lay – except the trips I took to Louisiana to visit my dad during the holidays. I’d like to say that I’m Cajun because of my dad’s side of the family, but it almost doesn’t seem fair to claim that when I really wasn’t brought up under that culture full-time. My husband likes to say that I’m a Cajun Floridian, which I suppose would be partly true. I’m fascinated by the Cajun/Creole culture, but I also can’t handle a lot of spicy foods either. The duality that is “me” has no end.

Something About Sheritta #13

[image error]What are your top 10 favorite books/authors?

I don’t know if I can reach ten, but here it goes. For authors, I will faithfully read anything by Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Margarette Mitchell, Susan Krinard, Paige Tyler, Edgar Allen Poe, Mary Jane Hathaway, and Louisa May Alcott. I have the occasional strangling interest in a few books or authors, but those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head.

My interests do tend to lean toward the classics or any book that features a woman who breaks the mold. I don’t like my heroines flighty or wimpy, but I do want them to have a flaw or two that contradicts her actions or her goals. Writing style also has a huge impact on whether I will like a book or author. If the prose is jarring, doesn’t flow, or there’s a lot of repeated phrases or adjectives that disrupt my experience, then they won’t make me exclusive list.

Forever stuck…

[image error]My thumb grazed over the edge of my coffee mug, stare distant and unfocused. To him, I was watching traffic through the window. But I wasn’t sitting beside him anymore. I was miles upon miles away, walking down dusty roads. I couldn’t smell the stagnant, seasoned air of the café, but the fresh, piney air of Maryland and Virginia.

My heart squeezed once more as a speeding car passed across my line of sight and threatened to shatter the peaceful illusion I could have stayed moored in for hours. We were waiting for our food, but I was waiting for an escape.

That excursion away from home did so much more for my soul than I would ever let on. All my life, I had known nothing but the deep south, of the balmy sea breezes and touristy towns that lined the coast. I hadn’t known mountains and creeks, deep valleys and thick woods that were filled with mysteries. I had been scared of the unknown, terrified of what lay beyond my comfort zone. I spent my days between four walls and along one crowded road, trapped in a cage I had designed only in my own head. I thought if I ventured too far without him, I’d be lost.

But I discovered something so crucial and earth-shaking. I didn’t become lost.

I had been found.

“So how was work yesterday?” he asked.

I pulled myself unwillingly from the light of my revelation and turned my eyes back to his. “Fine. Nothing new.”

“Did you get everything straightened out from while you were gone?”

I only nodded and cast my gaze down to the half-empty mug. I hated the way I had become so aloof, so disconnected from him ever since I came back. He missed me more than he would ever admit. I knew that in the way he held me so tight, as if I’d run away again. I saw it in how he showered me with affection and caresses as if he were trying to make up for a lifetime of being apart, when it had only been a week.

I still loved him, and I missed him on those long nights spent alone in the hotel rooms when I had nothing to occupy my mind, no one to hold. He was still my rock, my safe harbor. But I hesitated to tie myself to his docks. It wasn’t until the night before that I had realized why.

“You know all that stuff we share to each other about our signs?” I asked, seemingly out of the blue.

I could feel his stare narrow upon me in confusion. “Yeah?”

“You know how mine always says that a Sagittarius can be adventurous and love to travel?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and you always balk at the idea of getting an RV like I want.”

“I still don’t, but…” I paused, trying to think of a way to say it without hurting his feelings. “I still want to travel, I guess. I didn’t before, but now I do.”

I looked up and saw his blank face, so void of expression that I wondered if he would change the subject again. He did that whenever I’d try to delve further into our psyches, whenever I tried to have a serious conversation that didn’t have to do with tabletop games or work or the dogs. Light subjects or whatever he was interested in. Nothing about me. And I kept it that way on purpose, because I knew he didn’t really want to hear me complain. I invited him to enough pity-parties that he knew when to steer the topic away from how I truly felt.

So I had bottled it all up, until now.

“Traveling always stressed me out, but I wonder if… if it was just the idea of traveling somewhere I didn’t want to go that bothered me. Like, when we took those trips to see your family. I didn’t want to go and I hated going, so I couldn’t enjoy it. I… I always had to look to everyone else for what we were going to do next or where we would go, but I was never fully into it. But this big trip… I don’t know, I guess it’s because I was doing what I wanted and went where I pleased on my own time without having to worry about dragging you out of bed or whether you were enjoying yourself or not, so I could relax a little.”

I waited for a response, but he only looked away and took a long draft from his own iced coffee.

“I… I didn’t want to come home. I wanted to keep going to all those places, and you know how I didn’t get to hit those last two parks on the last day. Would you want to go with me next weekend? It’d be a long drive, but I really want to go see them.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Maybe… Always maybe. Or probably. Never a definitive yes or no. Always on the fence, always playing by ear until something came up to ruin it. That’s what today was. I had felt so guilty about spending all that time away that I was willing to give in and go on this weekly date instead of traveling north again to see those last few landmarks. I stayed because he wanted me to. Because he needed me to.

I didn’t want to be dramatic, but I felt like a bird who had just learned to fly and had her wings clipped after the first successful takeoff. I wasn’t afraid to go alone anymore, not afraid to make those plans and see them through. I wasn’t afraid to hop in the car and drive hours and hours just to see what the sunrise looked like in another state.

I was afraid of losing him or making up upset. I didn’t want him to think that I was discontent with our marriage. I wasn’t. I was just discontent with where we were living and our lifestyle. I wanted more freedom, more enrichment. Wasn’t that what zookeepers did for their caged animals? They sprinkled different scents and toys across their enclosure as enrichment so they wouldn’t become bored in captivity.

Well, this beast was bored. And she was ready to break free and demand the right to live as she pleased.

I held her in check, keeping the leash short and taut. But my grip was loosening, my resolve weakening. I was ready to burst into screams or sobs if I couldn’t have some assurance.

“Let’s move,” I declared.

He eyed me. “Where?”

“I don’t know. Tennessee? Virginia?”

A flash of anger made me freeze. “Does this have to do with – “

“No!” I gasped. I knew what he would say and I couldn’t let him think it. “Nothing like that.”

“We can’t move,” he said. “We’re stuck taking care of this house, remember?”

How could I forget? It had been convenient before. It was enough room for us and the dogs. We had a big yard and a pool that he loved to swim in. I only used it twice since we moved in three years ago. I wasn’t one for swimming or beaches, which only fueled my lack of appreciation for Florida. It was too commercialized, too crowded, too hot. I belonged in the mountains where it snowed, but he hated the cold.

I fell silent for a few moments, feeling my spirit crushed under the harsh reality.

For the first time in over five years, I wish I wasn’t married. I wished I wasn’t bound to this place by a job or family or what I thought I wanted. I had mentioned my sign to him before, and I wasn’t exaggerating. It was as if I was finally growing into my sign, coming alive to who I really was and why I had been feeling so aimless and anxious for years. For the first time, I wished that I could break free and run away. Go back north and see the mountains, take my time and do as I wanted without having to worry about a job or anyone waiting for me back home. I wanted to see things, feel them, meet new people for once in my life, and put some experience under my belt. I felt so innocent and naïve, listening to everyone talk about how they had gone to such-and-such and seen things that I only dreamed of.

How long before this discontent would wear off? Would it ever? Could I ever leave again? By the way he had been so miserable without me, by the way my work couldn’t survive one week with an empty office, and by the unfortunate decisions that had been made before this awakening, it seemed unlikely.

I was stuck. Forever rooted in the sands when all I wanted to do was dig my fingers into the rich soil of the mountains. My heart was sick and the only cure was to leave. But I couldn’t. I could never leave.

My Civil War Pilgrimage, 2018

I’ve FINALLY got the “vlog” uploaded to YouTube! If you have 2 hours to kill and want to learn some Civil War stuff, here ya go! Pictures can’t do it justice, but I’ll put the picture collages below for each location I visited.

It was an amazing trip, packed with memories I’ll cherish forever. I call it a pilgrimage because it’s been both an adventure and a huge watershed event for me. The biggest fears were that I’d have an anxiety/panic attack and freeze up at some point along the trip. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Quite the opposite. I’ve become a little braver. I’ve proved to myself that I can travel and make decisions for myself without freaking out, since Jared didn’t come along with me. It’s so liberating to realize that I can finally do the things I love without being afraid. Wanna hear more? Check out the video!

When looking through these photos, if you see a haversack (tan/off-white messenger bag), these are markers or locations I was specifically looking for because they have significance in my newest historical paranormal release, The Soldier.

Richmond, September 13th

Confederate Whitehouse, Museum of the Confederacy, Tredegar Iron Works.

 

September 14th – Appomattox Courthouse

 

September 15th – Manassas, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Antietam Overlook Farms

 

September 16th – Gettysburg

 

September 17th, Antietam – 156th Battle Anniversary

 

September 28th – Franklin GA Monument, Noah Culpepper’s Grave

Something About Sheritta #12

[image error]What did you edit out of your most recent work-in-progress?

In The Outlaw, I had the character of Henry as a completely different person. He was going to be a cattle driver, working a legitimate job and volunteering out of nowhere to accompany Ben and Sarah on their quest to find the outlaw Clarence. That didn’t sit well for two reasons. The first was that I changed the story location to Colorado and in the place their at, there was no cattle driving going on. There was the Goodnight-Loving Trail but it led up the central-eastern side of the state toward Denver, which my characters never venture close to. Secondly, it didn’t make sense that Henry would just want to drop a perfectly good paying gig to accompany them. I planned out this story years ago and it was more of a rough idea at the time. I hadn’t thought it all the way through. Now that I had more time to think, I decided to make Henry more of an outlaw/rogue type of guy and that he actually knew Ben from their days working on the railroad. This made more sense for his involvement in the story and added a little more dimension to Ben’s character at the same time.

Legacy Volume 2 Now On Audible!

It’s here! Legacy Volume 2 is now on Audible for you audiobook addicts!

Check it out on Audible!

As before, the next four novellas have been compiled into one convenient volume for your listening pleasure, narrated by the talented and addictive voice of Jay Lindenwood. For those who loved his interpretation of the characters from volume one, you’ll love this addition even more! Accents galore, entrancing with every chapter! Not convinced? Just check out this sample from the fourth book in the volume, The Scholars.

The Pirate – 1717; James Lent, better known as the Devil Dog of the Caribbean, is one of the most fearsome pirates known to stalk the sea. Only his quartermaster knows his darkest secret that he’s not just a brave captain, but a werewolf. Things begin to get complicated when he holds the daughter of the governor of Kingston for ransom, this cold and ruthless pirate’s heart begins to soften. They don’t get better when he needs to outrun an infamous pirate hunter, Bart Croxen. Torn between freedom and love, the Devil Dog must decide his fate before someone else does.

The Native – 1734; Adam, the mixed child of a Navajo woman and European trader, makes the unsettling discovery that he is not any normal man. When Geoffrey Swenson shows back up to the village, prompted to visit his son for the first time since boyhood, it’s for a more disquieting reason. Adam is coming into his true identity as a werewolf and must leave behind his old ways of life, his traditions, and everything he’s known, to train with his estranged father. But with a new sickness sweeping through the tribes, leaving may prove harder than they ever imagined.

The Irishman – 1770; Dustin Keith only wants two things in life; to have fun and marry his childhood sweetheart. When he finally wins the approval of her traditional father, he thinks that things couldn’t get better. But when what should have been a blissful wedding night turns into a walking nightmare, Dustin must come to grips with a part of himself that harkens back to the old-world superstitions that he thought he could leave behind when he said his vows.

The Scholars – 1791; Geoffrey and Adam Swenson are imprisoned on a ship, bound for Australia – then known as New Holland – under bogus criminal charges pressed against them in England. After they escape and flee from the budding settlement of New South Wales, they find that they are not the only werewolves on this strange and dangerous new continent.

Something About Sheritta #11

[image error]What is something unique/quirky about you?

To be totally honest, it took a while for me to come up with something. All of my potentially unique or quirky aspects, once examined, aren’t so unique or quirky because I’m sure there are some people out there who can relate. One thing, for instance, is that I know almost every single line for the first thirty minutes of the movie “Beauty and the Beast” (the animated, not live action – though that was spectacular too). I’ve loved this movie for as long as I can remember and have watched it more times than I could ever begin to count. The same goes for the movie “Titanic”, but I only know all of Rose’s lines when she’s reminiscing about the ship.

Perhaps another quirk would be that I can’t sleep on my back. If I do, I have terrible nightmares. I always have to sleep on one side or the other, or on my stomach. But never my back. My husband has often woken me up in the middle of the night to let me know that I had inadvertently rolled onto my back and I’ll right myself.

When I’m home alone or feeling particularly goofy, I’ll talk to my dogs in a southern belle accent without ever meaning too. I blame the fifty-some-odd hours I spent listening to the audiobook for Gone With The Wind.

My music tastes range from opera, Broadway, Celtic, classical, folk/traditional, to country, hard rock, punk, pop, to Disney tunes, sea shanties, 18th century ballads, and reggaeton. You could get whiplash just listening to my eclectic playlists. The only thing I refuse to listen to is rap.