Pamela Schloesser Canepa's Blog, page 50
July 6, 2019
Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RWISA
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Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! Today, I’m sharing a short story by author, Linda Mims.
Solace
by Linda Mims, All rights reserved.
Eighteen precocious kindergartners stared as Carly walked into the colorfully decorated classroom. Carly hoped her smile was more reassuring than she felt. Was this a mistake? She spotted two six-year-olds who’d been in her charge on the first field trip she’d chaperoned. They gave her a friendly wave, and a true smile parted Carly’s pursed lips and lightened her heart.
Ms. Jones, the principal, asked all of the children to file around and shake hands with Carly, but some of them hugged her around the waist and Carly bent to embrace them. The huggers stared up at her and quickly turned away unsure how to behave.
After Carly shook hands and hugged them, she asked their new teacher’s permission to lead them to the circle in the back of the room. She’d read that schools were frowning on seating students on the floor, but their former teacher, Miss Mason, had valued the practice.
Miss Mason sat smack dab in the middle of “her kids” and shared her own childhood or read to them from her favorite stories.
So, hovering above the painted line, Carly squatted until she dropped. Sitting crossed-legged wasn’t as comfortable or as easy for Carly as the children made it appear. She smiled as they sank to the floor on legs like rubber bands.
The children sat on the painted circle touching their neighbors with legs, arms, or elbows. There was no jostling or whining from anyone about invasion of space. They needed to connect in this strange time, so it was okay for someone to sit too close.
Two little ones, seated across from Carly, couldn’t stop sniffling, so she held out her arms, and they came over. She pulled them down on either side of her and nuzzled them there. She wanted to join in. Be as free and uninhibited as they, but she held her feelings in check.
The children bowed their heads, but a few raised their eyes to cast envious glances at the two burrowed beneath Carly’s arms. She smiled around the room, looking for the ones Miss Mason had told her about. Johnnie, who was the biggest discipline challenge. Grown-ish Jenny of the fresh mouth and Einstein mind.
Carly recognized little unkempt Anna who caused Miss Mason enough anxiety to refer her family to DCFS. Diana Mason loved these children, and they loved her. The students spent more time with Carly’s daughter than with their own parents.
“Listen and I’ll tell you about the day little Ms. Mason broke the rules and made cookies for herself and her little sister,” Carly said. “When her father and I were away from home, she wasn’t supposed to fool with the stove, but you guys know how feisty Ms. Mason can be.”
“She was a mischievous little girl,” Carly said with exaggerated feeling.
One of the little ones giggled and hurriedly stifled it when the others swiveled their heads to stare at her, disapprovingly.
“Children,” Carly said. “Ms. Mason would want you guys to smile as you remember her. She’d want you to remember the stories I’m about to tell you and think of her with love.”
***
Joe Mason waited outside the old brick building where, four years ago, his daughter and some of her colleagues had started their own small school. His wife was inside visiting his daughter’s kindergarten class, but Joe remained in the car.
He hadn’t agreed with Carly that this was a good idea. His family had spent a crushing two days grieving Diana’s sudden death and just when—maybe—the weight was easing, his wife sprung up.
“Oh God, Joe! Her kids.”
“I’m sure someone has told them,” he assured her, but Carly wouldn’t be comforted.
“They’re five and six years old, Joe. They don’t understand death. Can you imagine the confusion and anguish for those children? I have to go,” Carly said.
“They need to hear from me and know that it will be all right.”
She had made up her mind and Joe didn’t try to talk her out of it. Perhaps she needed this, too. He, on the other hand, couldn’t bring himself to think about Diana without feeling guilty. There was no peace for him as he shouldered the weight of his daughter’s death.
The night Diana died alone in her room, Joe had convinced himself that he’d heard her knocking for help. He’d been dreaming and in the dream, Diana had knocked on the front door. He was upstairs, and he wondered why Carly didn’t go to the door and let their daughter in.
She knocked in random succession maybe three times, but when Joe woke, he heard nothing. He lay there for a long while listening and wondering if someone had been knocking on the door for real.
It was 1:45 a.m. and outside, the sounds of jazz music told him his neighbor Jimmy was in his parked van, again.
Jimmy did that after a spat with his wife, Vanessa. That’s what the knocking had been. A radio commercial. Satisfied, Joe turned over and went back to sleep. It never occurred to him to wake Carly or to go check on Diana. If he had, his daughter could have gotten help, and she’d still be alive.
Joe couldn’t tell anyone. Carly and Diana were more than mother and daughter. They were best friends. Carly would never forgive him for, if nothing else, letting her remain asleep. God! The pain of losing Diana, compounded by his guilt, was eating Joe alive.
Inside, Carly carried her own guilt. Diana had been working herself to the bone raising money to keep the school afloat. More than just exist, Diana and her colleagues wanted the school to make a huge impact on the lives of their students and their families.
Diana wasn’t sleeping. She was losing weight, and more than a few times, Carly argued with her about taking care of herself.
“If you don’t take care of your own health, you won’t be any damned good to your students!”
“Mom, relax! What am I going to do? Die?”
“Your heart, Diana. Please remember your heart.”
“I do, mom. I think about my heart all the time. School is the only thing that prevents me from thinking about my heart. Can you give me a break? And don’t go to Dad with your suspicions.”
So, Carly gave her a break and she didn’t tell Joe that she suspected Carly was sicker than she was letting on.
***
“You smell like her,” said a little one who’d scooted over and was hugging Carly from behind.
“Let me smell,” said another, peeling his classmate’s arms from around Carly and nudging the child over to squeeze in.
“I wanna smell,” cried a young girl who had stopped twirling her hair around her finger and now stood.
Soon they clustered around Carly, talking and gesturing. Their little voices serious as they shared stories of the times Ms. Mason had been kind, or funny, or very, very stern. Their beautiful faces weren’t so sad now and they made Carly laugh. An hour passed and the pall over the room lifted.
Outside, the breeze blew leaves from the young trees Diana had planted across the grounds. Joe trained his eye on a leaf that floated across his windshield on the gentle breeze. Instead of drifting along, the green leaf frolicked and rolled on the air in front of him.
He’d never paid attention to leaves, and he wondered that this one seemed determined to hang right there, tumbling and playing in front of him. While Joe watched, the leaf floated down and lay on the hood as though spent. Then, to Joe’s amusement, it blew flat against his window and stuck there for a few moments.
The leaf stood on its stem and Joe bent to see it flutter across the car and brush Carly’s face just as she opened the passenger door. Carly started, then laughed and touched her face. Smiling, without even knowing why, they watched the little leaf fly off over the building and out of sight.
**
Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.
We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs. Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent! Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:
Linda Mims RWISA AUTHOR PAGE
July 5, 2019
Brinesians Go to Camp. #amwriting #RDP
(c) 2019, by Pamela Schloesser Canepa
How would you know if you’ve met a Brinesian? Very few people know what Brinesians are, but I know, and I am willing to share. Take our English word, “brine.” It means something related to the sea. Therefore, I’ve named this species living under the sea “Brinesian.” This life form has intelligence to match or surpass humans.
What do you mean, where did I get that word? I myself have created that word to describe this species.
Brinesians are a deep sea species, so we’ve rarely seen them. However, plastic pollution is killing much of their way of life and survival. They are able to take on a human form. Still, you want to be aware when you’ve come across one. They are very curious about us and might want to take some of us back home. After all, they may have to adapt to be able to live like us, out of the water. I have a suspicion that they come to camp out for a time in the air and go back when they need the seawater again. Maybe they can take more air in time. Right now, with humans relaxed and vacationing, is a great time for them to camp out here.
Should we be concerned? Yes. Have you even been listening?
Why are they green? Well, I’ve only seen one, but I surmise that they are green based on their surroundings, but they’re only green when they are out here, on land. After all, seeweed is green. Don’t be fooled into believing it is a sickly human. That’s what they want. We will see them more and more. I tell you, they are camping out as we speak, taking in our way of life.
**Transcript of Dr. Vincent Millispen’s last speech to the delegation on Science and Evolution before being forced to resign.
*Check out other responses to the word of the day (camp) at https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/
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Photo by James Lee on Pexels.com
July 4, 2019
7/04. Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RWISA
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Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! Around WordPress this week, members of the Rave Reviews Book Club will be sharing writing samples and information about other authors in this organization called RWISA, the Rave Writer’s International Society of Authors.
Today’s featured author is Rhani D’ Chae, sharing an excerpt from her book, Winter of the Drill.
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EXCERPT FROM UPCOMING NOVEL, “WINTER OF THE DRILL”
By Rhani D’Chae, all rights reserved.
***
Decker leaned against the hood of his car, talking to JT in a low tone of voice. His face wore a pleasant expression, and a casual observer would have had no clue as to the seriousness of their conversation.
“Second floor, third from the left?”
JT nodded without turning, keeping his eyes focused on Decker’s face. “That’s what Hunt said, and it does make sense.”
“Are you sure?”
The boy closed his eyes, remembering Hunter’s words immediately after the shooting.
“I think it came from that window over there!” Hunter’s eyes zeroed in on a building across the street. “Second floor, three in, left.”
JT nodded his head, confident that he had given the correct information. “Third from the left. I’m sure.”
Decker dipped his head almost imperceptibly, flicking his eyes quickly over the row of windows on the second floor of the nondescript building. Nothing seemed to be out of place, but he had not expected to find anything. However, the address of the building, as well as the location of the window and anything of interest nearby, went into the small notebook that he always carried with him.
“Well?” JT’s voice held a touch of impatience. “Do you see anything?”
“Yes.” Decker laid one hand on JT’s shoulder. “I see a boy who needs to learn that some things take more than a minute.”
The addition of a friendly smile took most of the sting from his words, and JT responded with a smile of his own.
“Okay.” Decker rose from his perch and stepped on to the sidewalk. “I’m hungry, and you never got to the Olive Garden. Let’s find some food.”
* * *
From his vantage point at the front window of the Greyhound station across the street, the man known only as Rhegan, watched them head toward a small cafe. He had returned to the strip in search of street gossip but had surprisingly heard almost none. And what he did hear was not worth listening to.
As he watched the pair walk slowly along Pacific Avenue, he thought back to when he had sighted on the boy and pulled the trigger. He had aimed carefully, not wanting to kill, but even so, he was surprised to see JT back on the street so soon.
After the shooting, he had taken a few minutes to watch the fireworks, knowing that the police would not be called.
His victim had fallen hard, his panic obvious as he managed to scrabble behind the nearest parked car.
His companion had reacted with cool precision, slipping one arm behind the boy’s shoulders and speed-dialing his cell phone with the other hand.
Even from a distance, Rhegan could see that the man was scanning the street. When the steel-blue eyes passed over the window that he looked through, he felt a sudden chill, as if those eyes had looked directly into his and issued a challenge.
A few passersby stopped to offer assistance, but Rhegan could tell that the man was dismissing each with a plausible excuse, for there was none of the panic that usually accompanied a public shooting.
Within minutes a car had pulled smoothly to a stop, collecting both men before exiting at a sedate speed that would not attract attention.
Rhegan had expected the part-time bouncer to run crying to Valdez, resignation in hand. Hopefully, the news that another person had taken a hit in his name would force a desperate Valdez to sign his club, the Toybox over to Malone, at whatever terms had been typed above the signature line.
Malone had told Rhegan that desperation was the only thing that would put a pen in his rival’s hand and had given him a list of potential targets. Malone had laid out his plan of attack, and Rhegan had no problem with any of it.
But, instead of running, his first victim had returned to take care of business. Head high and shoulders straight, he walked the sidewalk that still bore spatters of his blood, not even glancing down when his boots passed over the red splotches.
He was doing what Reagan himself would have done, and the hard-eyed gunman respected that, even while he planned when and where to take the boy out for good.
**Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.
We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs. Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent! Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:
Rhani D’Chae RWISA Author Page
July 1, 2019
Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RWISA
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Please allow me to introduce author John W. Howell!
Around WordPress this week, members of the Rave Reviews Book Club will be sharing writing samples and information about other authors in this organization called RWISA, the Rave Writer’s International Society of Authors. Today, John W. Howell will be sharing one of his short stories.
The Road by John W. Howell (c) 2019
Just a couple more hours and I’ll be able to rest my eyes. Been on this damn highway for what seems like forever. His head slowly nods until the rumble strip noise causes him to jerk awake. “I have been asleep,” he yells. He yanks the wheel, and the tires screech in protest as he swerves back on to the highway. He can feel his heart in his chest and pressure in his eyes. In an instant, he regrets being so weak as to give in to the physical need. He also becomes alarmed since now he knows that sleep could overtake him without notice. One second, his eyes could be open and the next closed. Thank God for the jarring and noise of the rumble strips since without its alarm, he is sure he would have ended up piled into a tree.
As his heart settles down, he concentrates on the road ahead. There’s someone at the side about a half mile away. A hitchhiker by the looks of a backpack. A sign in the person’s hand is not readable at this distance. The thought occurs that It would be a good thing to have someone else in the car to help him stay awake. Of course, there are dangers in picking up a stranger. As he gets closer, he can see that the hitchhiker is not a guy like he thought. It’s a young woman about his age. She is wearing some kind of overalls, but the distinctive female form still comes through. He decides to slow down and assess the situation. A girl makes all the difference in trying to reach a decision for or against a pickup. After all, who knows where this could lead? He does know that in all probability, she is not likely to stick a knife in his ribs and demand his wallet after a couple of miles down the road.
He eases the car to the shoulder and can’t help kick up some dust in the process. The sign is facing him even as the person turns away to avoid the dust storm he has created. Kansas City in black marker on cardboard is all it says.
He opens the passenger door and waves her over. “I’m going to Kansas City. Want a ride?”
The young woman looks back at him, and he can tell she is doing an evaluation on the safety prospects of accepting a lift. She slowly hoists her backpack on to her shoulder and walks with hesitant steps toward the car. She puts her hand above her eyes to cut the glare of the sun and stops short of the door. She leans in. “Did you say you’re going to Kansas City?”
“Yes. Yes, I did. I also asked if you would like a ride.”
“That all depends on your intentions?”
“My intentions?”
“Yeah. You are offering a ride. How much will it cost me?”
“Cost you? I’m going to Kansas City. Your sign says Kansas City. Why would it cost you anything?”
“Just want to make sure is all.”
“No charge. I’ve been on the road forever, it seems, and I would welcome the company. My name is James.”
“Sorry, James. I know I sounded a little ungrateful, but I have also been on the road and have met several guys that think I owe them something for a ride.”
“I can understand that. Let’s just say you can ride or not it’s your choice. No other decisions to be made.”
“Fair enough. I accept your offer. My name is Sarah.” She slides in and slams the door.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah. You want to put your backpack in the rear?”
“No, I’ll just keep it here in the front with me. You can never tell.”
“Tell what?”
“When I’ll have to bail. Everything I own is in this pack, and I sure wouldn’t want to leave it behind.”
“I get it. No use trusting someone just cause they say you can.”
“Right. I think I like you, James.”
“Wainwright. My last name’s Wainwright. How about you?”
“Not sure I have a last name. I go by Sarah.”
“No last name? How can that be?”
“You going to start this car or is my fear well founded.”
James flushes as he turns the ignition. “Yeah, here we go.” He looks in the side mirror and signals as he pulls back on the highway.
“You are a cautious one. There’s no one for miles.”
“I guess it’s a habit from city driving.” He keeps checking in the mirror until he is up to highway speed
“Where you from, James?”
“New York. You?”
“I think I was originally from down south somewhere.”
“You don’t know?”
“Well, it’s been a long time.” She pauses.
James glances at her and sees that she is lost in thought somewhere. Her skin is fair, and she has the high cheekbones and lips of a runway model. She looks vaguely familiar, and he compares her looks to Joni Mitchell. There is that innocent, fragile look that makes you want to take care of her.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” She is back.
“I didn’t say anything. I’m amazed you don’t know where you are from.”
“Well do you remember where you’re from or is it someone told you?”
She has a point. James only knew he was born in Chicago because his parents told him so. He lived in New York for twenty years so unless clued in he would have thought he lived there his whole life. “I guess I should rephrase the question. Where did you last live?”
“Yes, James. That makes a little more sense. I last lived in Dubuque, Iowa.”
“What a coincidence. I am driving from Dubuque. Do you believe that?”
“I can believe that. Someone once said there are only six degrees of separation of everyone on Earth. You and I traveling from Dubuque at the same time certainly falls into that realm.”
“Aw come on, Sarah. We are both going from Dubuque to Kansas City. That has to be more than a coincidence.”
“I never said I was going to Kansas City, James.”
“Wait. You have that sign that says Kansas City.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m going there.”
“What does it mean?”
“You think I know?”
“I’m getting a weird feeling here, Sarah. Like you aren’t telling me something.”
“Do you remember swerving after you ran off the highway?”
“What? Back there. Yeah, I remember almost falling asleep. Hey, wait a minute. How would you know about that?”
“Think a minute, James. How do you think I would know about that moment?”
“Sarah I’m too tired for guessing games. What is this all about?”
“Do you feel okay, James?”
“Yeah, just tired.”
“Look around. Do you see any other cars?”
“No, but I haven’t for a while. What are you trying to tell me, Sarah?”
“You fell asleep James.”
“When did I fall asleep? I know I nodded off, but when did I fall asleep?”
“Just before your car went off the road and you hit a cement culvert.”
“Now, you are joking. Right? Right, Sarah?”
“No joke, James. Look ahead. What do you see?”
“Uh up the road, you mean?”
“Yes, up the road.”
“Nothing but what looks like a sandstorm.”
“It’s no storm, James. It is nothing.”
“Who are you anyway?”
“Do you remember that little girl who went missing in the second grade?”
“Yeah, what does that have to do with you?”
“Does the nickname Jimmy Jeans mean anything?”
“That’s what Sarah called me in the second grade.”
“How did I know that?”
“You wouldn’t unless.”
“Unless I’m Sarah.”
“Oh My God. Sarah. It is you. Where have you been?”
“That’s not important. What is important is you were broken hearted when I vanished. You prayed for my return and made promises to God if only I would come back.”
“I never got over that either. I think of that little gir¾. I mean, I thought of you almost every day. Why didn’t I recognize you?”
“Cause I’m all grown up. There would be no way.”
“Where have you been Sarah. I have missed you so much.”
“Don’t cry, James. I’m here with you now.”
“Can you tell me what happened to you?”
“No, James, it’s not worth the time.”
“So why now? Why are you here now?”
“To help you, James.”
“To help me. How?”
“To understand what your life is like now.”
“Now? What do you mean?”
“You were in an accident, James. You ran off the road, and I am sorry to say your body didn’t survive. You are now going with me on an eternal trip.”
“You are saying I’m dead. I can’t believe that. Look at me. I’m just as alive as you.”
“That’s right. You are.”
“Um, Sarah?”
“Yes, James.”
“You are dead too?”
“Yes, James. A man took me from school and killed me. They never found my body.”
“W-what?”
“Don’t think about that now. Think about the future. Because you prayed so hard and missed me so much, I was given the honor of escorting you to the other side.”
“Other side? There’s a Future?”
“A wonderful one. You and I for all time.”
“I would like that.”
“Take my hand then. Let’s be off.”
“I have more questions.”
“All in good time, James. All in good time.”
*Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.
We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs. Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent! Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:
John W. Howell RWISA Author page
June 29, 2019
Weekend Coffee Share, 6/29/19
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Welcome to my Weekend Coffee Share, hosted by Allison at http://eclecticali.wordpress.com
Pull up a chair and grab your drink of choice. As you can see, Bixby prefers a puppicino! NO, I porbably didn’t spell it right; it’s a made up word anyway! It has been a hot week. The heat and humidity together made it feel like 110 degrees at times. Yikes!
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I was glad to be indoors for a while at the WordPress Wordcamp today. It was so interesting and at times, overwhelming.
Here are three takeaways:
1. The sessions are not long enough for you to actually set up everything that you might want to on your site, so take notes! I plan to ruminate on the information later.
2. There is sooo much covered, and if you are merely a fledgling techie like me, take note of sites recommended or bookmark them on your laptop to review when there is more time.
3. Make it a point to return the next time there is a Wordcamp in town! Next time, I’ll have a better idea which sessions would best pertain to me. The most helpful today was on planning content. There were many things in that session I plan to put to use!
Besides it being interesting, I met some nice folks, and the lunch was great!
What I’m going to remember most is the idea of having a content plan. Saturday is already a great time for networking and community, as we do with the Weekend Coffee Share.
Besides working a little more on my work-in-progress, Malachi, I joined the Friday Fictioneers prompt challenge and entered my own little flash-fiction. Mny reders are interpreting it in different ways! Check it out: Observations at the Theater, Friday Fictioneers
I thank you for stopping by and hate to cut it short, but I am a little tired after this day of learning so many new things and now there is dinner to consider.
I hope you all have a great week! I am planning a little bit of writing on my novel in progress next week, and I’ll be working up that content plan for my blog and social media. Then there is also Independence Day. Enjoy it! I don’t have firm plans yet, but I’ll definitely be comforting my dog from the neighborhood sounds of fireworks. Poor doggie can’t stand the noise. 
June 27, 2019
Friday Fictioneers. Observations at the Theater. #amwriting
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
All writing © Pamela Schloesser Canepa
“You know, if aliens were studying us, they could learn a lot about us from our viewing habits,” Roma claimed.
Billy shrugged. “You’ve got some weird ideas. I’m just excited for the tenth installment of ‘Halloween!’
Roma stopped at the snack counter. “Let me get some popcorn to calm my nerves.”
Minutes later, they were claiming their seats. Roma cringed during every tension-filled moment. The audience screamed; Billy just laughed.
That is, until Billy noticed the strange man on the left of the theater staring at him. Every time he turned, the man stared. Billy cringed…Someone was watching.
-99 to 100 words in response to the photo prompt given for the Friday Fictioneers Challenge at http://rochellewisoff.com
June 26, 2019
Letting My Characters Speak. Giving Inspiration the Driver’s Seat, #amwriting
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A representation of Malachi. Photo via Pixabay.
All writing © Pamela Schloesser Canepa, 2019.
There comes a time when a parent is no longer shaping and molding her child, when she/he must simply take a step back and observe, when everything you say or advise seems to be a reiteration of things you’ve already taught them. That’s when it’s time to stand back and listen. Well, it’s the same with our main characters. This has been coming into play with the writing of my current manuscript, tentatively titled, Malachi. Malachi goes through some interesting experiences, and seeing them through his eyes was a whole lot of fun!
“I came to this job through an ad in the newspaper. It read: Acting job. Get your foot in the door. The tryout was basically an interview, and I didn’t get a call back until a week later. Probably enough time for a background check. I should have known right away that salty old guy in jeans was no director.” –Malachi, work in progress
In undertaking this novel, I knew that I wanted to see things through a different point of view. This book is in first person, and I know some people either prefer to read first person or totally shy away from it. However, it does really place you in the character’s shoes. Writing this novel for sure put me in this character’s shoes. Why did I want that? Well, Malachi is an interesting character who surfaced in my novel, Undercurrents in Time, because Cr. Milt Braddock has his fingers in something he knows nothing about handling. Malachi is one of those hired to help him deal with it. We don’t learn much about him, where he’s from, who his family is, who he relies on in times of distress, or why he does what he does. He has what we would call an interesting job, and he is good at it. That was apparent in Undercurrents. He is a twenty-year-old kid who has the skill of flying by the seat of his pants, answering hard questions on the fly, and concocting a story to help him get through any situation. He also failed out of college.
I found that, in putting myself in his shoes, I really wanted him to succeed yet understood the pitfalls he encountered. (I was once young, myself, you know). Why was he so lonesome even when he was successful? Maybe it helped that I am the mother of a son who is in his early twenties, whom I have seen flounder through a few years not knowing his direction, who has changed his path a few times. I love writing the story though, putting myself in a character’s shoes and helping him while at the same time, putting some huge mishaps on his path.
Most of all, what I have enjoyed about writing this story in first-person-point-of- view is the listening. In the morning, I get up and go to the kitchen. I think, what would Malachi do first? Then, I suppose I listen. What would be going through his head? Then I try to think like that. On that note, what would be in Malachi’s kitchen cupboard? Evidently, not much! Remember, I was once young too…
Malachi’s story will likely be published in the spring or summer of 2020. I am just getting to the end of the first draft, and will begin the process of editing, revising, and all of that fun stuff. Malachi appears in the second book of the Detours in Time series. If you haven’t yet, you can start the Detours in Time series today: https://www.amazon.com/gp/bookseries/B07F5WPK72
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June 22, 2019
Weekend Coffee Share. Summer Days and Ways
[image error] No coffee needed for Bixby!
Welcome to my Weekend Coffee Share, hosted by Allison at http://eclecticali.wordpress.com
Summer is in full swing, and I’m adjusting to sleeping in, more time with the dog, and a lot less stress! On the topic of stress, I’ve been making an effort to have at least two days weekly where I only drink half a cup of coffee. Let me be honest, yesterday was the second day this week, and my ability to focus was really lacking. I was working on a few of my goals as an author, but I was pretty distracted and quite slow to gain traction. I did make it to yoga, though, and, wow! That is always good for my mood and relaxation.
I’ve been attending yoga twice weekly since summer’s start and going to Stretchzone in addition to more frequent walks. Stretchzone is a place where you do assisted stretch with a person who is usually licensed in Sports Medicine or physical therapy. I really like it, and I’m trying it because having butt in chair to write or laying around reading ( both of which I’ve been doing) can bother my lower back and sciatica.
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Seen on Thursday’s walk. Colorful Shrooms!
So what am I up to as an author? Why am I sitting in that chair? I’ve got Detours in Time in audiobook production with an awesome narrator, I’m working on Malachi (work in progress), and I’m starting Undercurrents in Time on the audiobook process. I have to prepare files of scenes from Undercurrents that lend themselves to narration. ( Starting that this week). I’ve had Detours in Time on a Countdown deal for .99 this week which ends Sunday. Detours in Time is a fun, yet thought-provoking read of a woman and a scientist who travel to the future, then back and forward again, and as a result, they learn a lot about their own families and themselves, as well as encountering some moral dilemmas. Can you just observe a train-wreck? That was metaphorical, but think about it. Find out about Detours in Time or download it here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0711ZW6XF
BTW, Undercurrents, the continuation, will also be on a Countdown deal in two to three weeks. I’ll keep you posted, because someone might be interested!
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Today, my dog, Bixby and I are on the road with my boyfriend, Kenny. We’re going to Brunswick, Ga to see his dad and stepmom. It will be a low key visit, with conversation and lunch at his house. We’ll be quite entertained watching my dog and their little poodle chase each other around, though!
Road trip photo!
The author tasks and goals will wait until tomorrow, after I’ve enjoyed some sunshine! Thank you for stopping by for our coffee chat, and have a great summer week!
June 19, 2019
“The Sibling.” #RDP #amwriting
(c) 2019
“Eggbert, we have one; we don’t need another!”
“Don’t you see, Lou, we can learn so much by having two.” He looked down to the scene below.
“But, but they’re not the same. Well, not entirely. We could be gone by now, your obsession is going to get us caught! ”
“You didn’t study them as I did. Why have one without the other? We could find out so much more. I’m not talking about resell or trade value. I want to see how they grow together, I want to know what they would do for each other.” Eggbert would not take his hand off of the console. They must land to capture the other, and they must do it now.
“You’re right, Eggbert. I don’t understand; I’ll never understand your fascination with them.”
Eggbert smiled, the lines in his face almost cracking, and guided their craft to land in pursuit of the second human, who was, as Lou would never understand, a sibling to the first capture locked in their storeroom. To leave one and not take the other could possibly break one of them, and that would not do.
***Learn about the RagTag Prompt or get the details to share your own at https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/06/19/rdp-wednesday-sibling/
June 18, 2019
Detours in Time Birthday Sale!
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When you’re so proud of your baby, you want to show it off, and sure, the cover’s pretty cool, but I’m responsible for what’s inside of it. What better way to get eyes on my story than by having a celebration sale?
It’s been two years since this baby was loosed upon the world! I am a proud mama who wants more people to be exposed to it, so I’m celebrating with a Kindle Countdown deal. Detours in Time, my first full-length sci-fi novel, is only .99 for Kindle format in the US and UK until 6/23! It is also available in Kindle unlimited, if you have a subscription. Please also share the deal with a friend today!
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Detours in Time could be considered a fun read full of adventure, but it also involves some serious matters, such as what our world will be like in the future, what operating a cell phone is like to someone who was stuck in the late nineties, and where our loved ones might end up. There is also sequel, and I’ll be offering that on a Countdown deal toward the end of this month. Both have earned the Reader’s Favorite 5 star seal of approval. Detours in Time has earned some appreciation and acclaim. Thank you to those who have posted reviews!
“With some clever plot twists and attention to “future” details, Ms. Canepa has created a science fiction tale that is equal parts fun, fascinating, and thought-provoking!…An unlikely pair, their (Tabitha’s and Milt’s) personal takes on what they witness and their witty repartee makes Pamela Schloesser Canepa’s DETOURS IN TIME a great way to spend a few hours in both another world and another time!” Tome Tender Book blog
From recent reviews: “Loved this book. A page turner for sure, with some unexpected twists and turns. You feel for the two main characters.” -Maria
“An enjoyable read and look forward to the next book in the series.” -Karen
I almost forgot the link! Here you go: Download your copy today at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0711ZW6XF or https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0711ZW6XF (in the U.K.).
