C.L. Walters's Blog, page 19

Awesome Writer Spotlight: Mary E. Pearson

It’s no secret. I’ve said it before: I do a lot of reading. King said it best, “If you want to be a writer you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no other way around these two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut,” (On Writing). Last year, I read fifty books and have made it through 22 books so far this year. I read, and I’ll read most anything, from romance to suspense, to YA and MG, to fantasy and contemporary, from fiction to nonfiction, reading is my lifeblood. While I like stand alone novels, I’m a sucker for a kickass series, and adore well written fantasy. Needless to say, I’m always on the lookout for a good book. Last year, on Instagram, a noticed a recommendation for The Kiss of Deception by Mary E. Pearson. Off to Amazon I went (because, unfortunately there aren’t any independent book stores near me). Labeled as a Young Adult fantasy with an intriguing blurb and an awesome looking cover, I was immediately intrigued. I took a chance, ordered the book.

Read it. Couldn’t put it down. Loved it so much I ordered the rest of the series before I’d finished the first book. I read the remainder of the series and adored it. Now, I would say Mary E. Pearson is one of my favorite authors.

Dance of Thieves is the first novel in a Duology. Vow of Thieves will be released August 2019.

I’m currently reading the first book in her new duology set in the same world of Remnant called Dance of Thieves. Halfway through and I’m in love with it . It’s one of those books that I know I’m reading it too quickly; I want to slow down to savor it but I can’t because I NEED TO KNOW NOW!

As a writer, here are five reasons I love Pearson’s writing and what I’m learning:

The perfection of economy. Pearson knows when to elaborate and when to keep it simple. She doesn't belabor points that aren’t purposeful to the whole of the narrative. Her world building is stellar. She takes us into the world and guides us through rather than dropping us in where we get lost in the details. She unfolds it bit by bit as though we live there, seeing it through the eyes of the characters who live it day in and day out. It isn’t overpowering, but it blooms like a flower - beautiful.

The chemistry she develops between her protagonists is heart thumping (and wistful sighing by me - the reader). She takes me on that emotional journey drawing out the romantic tension.

Her stories are action packed and page turning. The conflict and related tension is tight which makes me think just one more chapter. Then I’m still reading after three.

Her female characters are strong and defined - they are gorgeously human, independent and adept. Her male characters are strong and defined - they are gorgeously human, independent and adept. Both of them developed into complex people with triumphs but also with complex flaws.

The dialogue! I’m picky about dialogue and one of the biggest reasons I’ll close a book. When dialogue reads like I’m standing amidst two people having a conversation - magic. Pearson does this well. I love the way she uses dialogue to embody the conflict and additional characterization of her rich characters.

I could go on about regarding Pearson’s work, but I think maybe picking up her work and reading it for yourself is a better option.  Are there author’s you adore because of how they write?

I read the Remnant Chronicles last year. So good. Here for Mary E. Pearson’s Amazon Author Page.

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Happy Book Birthday: A Character Interview

Interview with Adam Kāne and Alexandra James from…

The Letters She Left Behind

May 6, 2019

New romantic suspense book by CL Walters available May 7, 2019

Tomorrow is the book birthday for my new adult romantic suspense The Letters She Left Behind. In celebration, I thought I would commemorate the event with an interview of the main characters, Adam Kāne and Dr. Alex James.  Born on the page in 2004, these characters have waited patiently for this author to rediscover them in 2019.

Some context for your reader imaginations:

Adam Kāne is a successful Hawaii business man at 47. He’s hard working, and loves his children. He misses his late wife and is in the late stages of grief at the opening of this story; he’s complex and definitely not perfect. Of course, he’s perfectly handsome - a gorgeous Hawaiian man (does Hugh Jackman with Hawaiian features help to picture him?).

Alex James - Adam’s counterpart - is an independent and smart woman. A forty-six year old college professor who’s bread and butter is Women’s Studies, she’s bright. But she also a fallible human woman who has secretly loved Adam for her entire adult life. She’s a beautiful, engaging, loyal, and funny. When I think of Alex - the beautiful Lauren Graham comes to mind.

So now, fifteen years after their creation … without further ado:  

Welcome, Adam and Alex. I know that living in my head has probably been a bit stifling. Was it worth the wait?

Adam: Definitely. I’m a patient guy.

Alex: Sure, though it’s difficult sitting around and waiting for you to get your act together.

Hahaha! Wow. Okay. Why do I feel like there’s more in those answers than meets the eye.

Alex: I’m not one for being passive aggressive, CL, but you did write the story. You know.

Adam: (chuckles and shakes his head): Patience is a virtue. So is biting one’s tongue when necessary.

Moving on then. Without giving any spoilers, what do you like best about your story?

Alex:  Megan. While she doesn’t make a huge appearance in the story, her part in the journey is equally important to the entire narrative on so many levels. I love that about her starring role. The way it all comes together.

Adam: Me too. I also like how there is the sense of time. The way life works sometimes to bend and twist in order to get you where you need to go when the timing is just right. It’s like as much as you might want something right now, it isn’t the right time for it.

Kind of like this story. Fifteen years ago, when I wrote it, I was in my late twenties - early thirties and here I was writing about grief and second chances. Perhaps I needed additional time and world view to draw the story together. On another note, there’s this point in the narrative when both of you see yourself - or the truth of who you are - outside of the fear. Can you comment on how that moment or moments like that are impactful.

Adam: I know exactly the moment you’re referencing, though I would say I had more than one of these sort of ah ha moments. It’s like that one step forward, two steps back paradigm. A person discovers a truth about themselves. Moves forward and then regresses until another discovery occurs. I think most times, for me anyway, those self-discoveries or facing those honest truths can be painful, which is why we regress.

Alex: I think so too, which is why sometimes we don’t face them. It’s easier just to stay in one place because the threat of change might be more than we can accept.  I know that for my part in the story, this fear of things being different was paralyzing.

I love that scene - when you walk into the ocean, Alex. It was pivotal for your character.

Alex: Yes. Truly makes the difference in the overall movement of my journey.

What about you, Adam? Is there a pivotal scene for your character?

Adam: There are a few, but I don’t want to give anything away by sharing them. I can say at the beginning of the story, I’ve been in a tailspin of grief for nearly a year. I’m raw at the opening, at the precipice of either burying myself in it completely, or doing something different. Megan’s journals were pivotal for me. Without them - well, there wouldn’t be a story.

Let’s talk a little bit about place and culture. As a Hawaiian, Adam, do you think your ethnicity is relevant to the story?

Adam: Not so much. I think I represent a Hawaiian male, but I don’t necessarily embody the cultural values of being Hawaiian, if that makes sense. In all fairness, I would add that who I am is on the edge of understanding my own Hawaiian identity. With the loss of language and culture, how does one rediscover those losses when you’re disconnected from them?

Alex: Do you think that lack of culture then misrepresents you in the story?

Adam: No. I feel like it accurately represents that it is a missing piece in my life, but more could be done to explore that. Maybe not in this story, but perhaps in others. But I think place is explored and the usage of  ʻOlelo Hawaii vocabulary which add depth to an understanding that Hawaii is more than a tourist destination.

Funny you mention stories to explore that. I’m working on a story for Trey. I don’t know if it will be a short story or longer - beginning stages - but that idea of cultural rediscovery is a theme I’m noticing as I work on it. Speaking of secondary characters, who do you think will be a fan favorite?

Adam: The kids.

Alex: The kids.

Neither of you are partial… Why the kids?

Alex: Each of them are unique and bring a whole different dimension to the story. Without them, I think the story wouldn’t be as layered.

Adam: I agree. I’d like to see them all with their own stories.

What are you hoping happens with your story?

Alex: I hope that a reader can close the book and feel like “Wow, I don’t need to worry about that thing anymore.” I think it’s easy to get caught up in the minutia of our lives and forget the big picture, the what’s really important.

Adam: That! Yes. And to remember that life is a journey. It doesn’t stop. It moves forward and we move along the timeline with it. Sometimes we’re blindsided, sometimes we’re broken, but always the timeline continues. Something else I hope people remember - we can’t live it alone. Along the way, we need those special people to share it with in some capacity.

Thank you for hanging out in my head for a bit. Happy Book Birthday tomorrow to The Letter She Left Behind!

Order here.

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The Letters She Left Behind PLAYLIST

BOOK PLAYLIST

This Spotify playlist is a labor of love for two characters I’m so excited to share with you: Adam and Alexandra in The Letters She Left Behind (Available on Amazon May 7, 2019).

Each of the songs selected is a part of the journey of rewriting this story to share with you. The order of the Spotify playlist tells Adam’s and Alex’s story like a soundtrack, and as I wrote supported the emotional connection to their experience. I sincerely hope listening to this soundtrack will help you fall in love with them like I have; I adore this love story. All the feels. I hope the music will enhance your reading of the novel when you do.

Motion by Khalid

Bed by SYML

Naive by RKCB

Gravity by Sara Bareilles

Forgiven by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

1000 Times by Sara Bareilles

Josephine by RITUAL

Under You by Nick Jonas

This Ain’t Love by Andy Grammer

Breathe Again by Sara Bareilles

Better by Khalid

Hurt Somebody by Noah Kahn & Julia Michaels

Fuel on Fire by Bear’s Den

Hurt Nobody by Andrew Belle

Closure by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Far Out Dust by Talos

Can’t Help Falling In Love with You by Kina Grannis

Crystalline by Jome

I Choose You by Sara Bareilles

As Long as I have You I’m Home by Imaginary Future

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YA Author Series - Author Spotlight: Genevieve Jane

Tell us three things about who you are and why you write...

My name is Genevieve and I have just completed writing my first novel! I am excited to share some of it with you.

I am married to my best friend and together we have a 5yr old daughter, 2 dogs, a cat and 2 birds. I am an avid reader and always have at least two books on the go. I love the winter because of the cold, and my favourite drink is tea, of any kind.

I write because I love to immerse myself in a world either I create or one I am reading. Writing allows me to creatively capture moments in time and space in my mind, giving me the opportunity to bring to life heroines and evil witches, castle ruins and bright blue skies across meadows filled with daisies.

 I love being able to make a scene or character come alive on paper.

Tell us about the story.

My novel is about a modern day heroine who is thrown into a centuries old curse, falling in love with an immortal man.

The curse is simple. Love another and earn their love in return, true and without obligation to escape the darkness. There is romance, a bit of magic and a forest full of fairy tales.

What are three things you want us to know as we read.

As the story unfolds, you will be find yourself at the start of a beautiful romance, and your heart will break for a man who finds himself at the center of his woven tales.

Once you start to see a glimmer of hope, the darkness will come full circle, surrounding a young woman who finds her inner strength to save the man she loves.

Where can we find this story? Where can we find you?

When I am not reading or writing, or out hiking with my family, you can find me on Instagram @genevievejaneauthor), where I love to post tons of book-ish photos or photos of my wonderful family. I also post tidbits of the story there, as I am currently seeking publication.  

From A Love Across Time by Genevieve Jane

Below is part of Kathryn and Jacob's story, as written in A Love Across Time.

(Copyright Genevieve Jane 2019)

As Kathryn stood alone in the ruins of Hohengeroldseck, she shivered. She should not have run from Jake. The look on his face when she turned back one last time was heartbreaking. He had told her things, things she refused to believe, even now.

A little voice inside her mind spoke to her heart, and she knew it spoke the truth. He was not lying to her. What if everything he said was true? That could only mean he was over two centuries old. How had that happened? Was that even possible?

As a child Kathryn had believed in magic. Of course she had, what child hadn't believed that magic was real? It was so bright and exciting. Now, how could she believe in magic when everything, everyone she loved had been taken from her. Her parents were gone and now her grandmother.

Kathryn shoved her hands inside her pockets. Not everyone she loved was gone though.

Jake. Or Jacob, as he told her. She loved him. Oh, how she loved him, and with all of her heart. She always had.

        Shivering, Kathryn dropped to her knees in the snow. What has she done?
        With her arms wrapped around her she stared up at the sky through the top of the tower. The sky was growing darker. She glanced behind her and she saw that she had, in her train of thought, climbed a whole lot of stairs.
       As fear started to sink in, Kathryn didn't know what to do. She was really high up and the wind blew with such force through the cracks in the walls that it howled.
       "Oh great, cracks," Kathryn thought out loud, as she yelled at the stars, "I'm going to crumble, just like this old castle."
      "No. You are certainly not," a voice stated from below the tower. "He is meant to crumble, not you." As Kathryn stood and slowly turned around, she peered through the opening of the tower to the ground below.
       A wolf paced beneath her. In her mind, she then heard a question.
      "After all he has done, you want to give him your heart, you still wish to set him free?" The wolf then disappeared and entered the castle ruins below.
      Kathryn frantically looked around, and her heart beat with the realization that she was not alone.
    Then with a rush of cold air, the wolf appeared. Kathryn watched as the wolf turned into a beautiful woman with long hair the colour of the sun, knotted and braided down her back. She wore clothes reminiscent of years ago, and Kathryn, now startled, realized who she was.
    “You're her aren't you, the witch who cursed him?” she whispered.

    

      “So he has told you of me,” the woman spoke, her words like silk against Kathryn's skin, “has he told you why I despise him, what he did, and why he suffers the way he does?” The witch walked closer to Kathryn and automatically Kathryn took a step back. Looking over her shoulder, she realized she was suddenly very close to the edge.

In less than a second, the witch had Kathryn by the neck, over the wall.

“So, this is love?” the witch sang, her voice melodic and clear in the oncoming night, “will you die for him?”

Struggling, Kathryn looked at the witch, not wanting her fear to be seen. Taking whatever breath she could, Kathryn replied, “I would, if it would set him free, I would do anything for him. I love him.”

*

As he watched the snowflakes start their dance from the sky, Jacob tried again to break free of the tree. He leaned in, putting all his weight on the smaller branches, and hoped that they would snap.

       When nothing worked, he sat back down. The light was fading from the sky, although there was still enough light to see the tower in the distance.

Jacob could barely see two shadows, which he assumed were Kathryn and the witch. Kathryn was over the edge and Jacob feared he had lost again, when suddenly the limbs of the tree started to untangle themselves and that created an opening.

       Quickly, Jacob ran through the opening and towards the castle ruins. As he reached the castle, he looked up, “Kathryn!” he yelled as loud as he could.

At that moment, Jacob could see a faint glow all around Kathryn, extending across the arm that the witch had out holding Kathryn over the ledge. He watched in amazement as the light grew brighter and Kathryn stepped back onto the edge, forcing the witch backwards.

*

As the snow started to fall quicker, Kathryn looked at the witch, and she had a fire within her. This was the man she loved. She would do anything for him, even without magic, she would defeat this witch. She knew it in her heart that love was stronger.

Her love. His love.

Love was stronger, love would break the curse, and she would fight with everything she was to keep him. She was stronger. She would save him, and no longer would he have to live in all the darkness. He would be free.

Free to love and free to live.

Shedding whatever hatred and self-doubt she felt before, Kathryn looked at her arm. Still in the witch's grasp, a light, brighter than any she had ever seen started at her hand and crept up her arm.

       The light engulfed her whole body and with a shove she pressed the witch back and planted both feet firmly on the ledge once more.

As she brushed the snow off her shoulders, Kathryn watched as the witch stepped back a bit, now looking at Kathryn through different eyes. Within seconds, the wolf was standing in front of her again, the woman was gone.

“You don't scare me that way either”, Kathryn took another step towards the wolf. Feeling the anger and the strength inside her, Kathryn continued walking.

       “You won’t even fight me as you are!” She lifted her hands and the same glow appeared once more.

Watching it dance between her hands, Kathryn continued.

“Love, that is what he told me. That love would break the curse. You have no power over him, not anymore. You have to let go. He hurt your daughter, I understand that, but he is not that man anymore. He has had two hundred years to change. That was what you wanted right? To end the curse he had to find true, selfless love? Let him love, please, he finally deserves it. I want to love him. For our whole lives. Mortal lives. Take his curse away.”

(Copyright Genevieve Jane 2019)

YA Author Series - Author Spotlight: Pier Dye

What three things do we need to know about who you are and why you write . . .

I write because I cannot not write. I have written a scifi trilogy I have not published yet titled, Cats without bodies and Snakes With Wigs, Social Justice Abounds and Pop Goes The Monkey.

I home school two boys, ages 10 and 11. We are actually unschoolers, which means we learn differently than in a typical classroom. We were discussing time travel and watching you tube videos on the subject when the concept of the butterfly effect came up. My oldest had taken a keen interest in writing and we were looking for a new school project. Thus began our writing adventure!

Tell us about the story . . .

Ethan is an intelligent, solitary child. He as never met his father and his mother died in a car crash, shortly after they relocated from California to New York City to take care of is his grandmother. His grandmother is suffering from dementia but he and the superintendent in his building are conspiring to keep him out of foster care. On the last day of school, Ethan inadvertently travels back in time 100 years, while taking the subway to the beach. Trying to locate a surf shop he saw online, he winds up in New Jersey circa 1916 and encounters a group of boys around his age. Realizing the year he has arrived in, he is privy to the immediate future because he has just studied it in school. When he discovers one of his newfound friend's fathers is about to die in the impending catastrophe, he determines to save the lives of those who died in the infamous Black Tom Island explosion in New Jersey and adventure ensues!

What are three things you want us to know as we read?

Ethan is completely dependent on these boys who have befriended him. He has no money and knows no one from this time. The boys think Ethan had merely accidentally stranded himself overnight and they feed him and let him stay in their secret fort. Meanwhile, Ethan is more worried about leaving his grandmother alone than what may happen to him.

Where can we find this story? Where can we find you (IG, Twitter, FB, website).

You can follow me on IG pier_fuhrman and Twitter, Piersbellavita,    

The book has yet to be published. We are currently seeking publication.

From Sweetie and the Secret Fort by Pier Dye

  Sweetie was eating the crust Ethan had pulled off his sandwich. For such a small dog she had quite an appetite! 

     Despite being born in California, Ethan had never spent much time at the beach before. But he regretted that now. He was thoroughly enjoying himself today until he heard someone yelling.

     "Hey you over there!" It was coming from behind him. Several men were moving rapidly towards Ethan and his new friends.     One minute Ethan was relaxing, sitting on the beach,  watching the waves and enjoying this newfound camaraderie and then a loud yell spoiled everything!      "Zats zem," he heard someone say in a heavy German accent.
     "Time to go," George said without hesitation!
     "What," Ethan asked confused?
     "Ethan, you stick with James, I'll try to lead them away," George continued. Then he stood and waved a friendly hello to the group of men descending upon them, just before abruptly turning and running upshore. 
     Everything was happening so fast Ethan barely had time to scoop Sweetie up and place her in his bag before James scrambled up in a flurry.      "Divide and conquer," James declared, taking off in the opposite direction of George!
     Ethan was still slinging his bag over his shoulder as he jumped up to follow James, running as quickly as he could. "Why are we running," Ethan called out to James?
     "That's the Sheriff back there with those two Germans we saw earlier. If they can't catch us they can't accuse us," James said, between breaths!
     "Accuse us of what," Ethan asked?
     "I'd rather not wait to find out," James said. 
     Ethan didn't much like that answer. But it made a certain amount of sense and there wasn't much time to think!They ran as fast as they could and although Ethan had no idea where they were going, why they were running, or even if they were being persued, he continued to run.
     They cut right and ran towards the fort but then crossed over and went the other way, through a copse of trees. They passed a small pond and had gone so far inland they had completely lost sight of the ocean. By this point Ethan was so hopelessly lost he had no choice but to continue following James.
     Finally, James stopped behind a tree and Ethan joined him. Both were bent over leaning with their hands on their knees, and both were breathless. "I think George threw them off our trail," James whispered hopefully. 
     Ethan checked to make sure the tiny dog in his bag was not  jostled around too severely and asked, "So what now?"
     "I live right there," James whispered softly, pointing to a house in the distance, "and I'm going to the shed out back to start working on a project that's almost finished. If they come asking, I'll say I've been there all day.      "And you . . . " James paused and looked around thinking before continuing, "You are going to sit right there in that old outhouse," he said, as inspiration struck! "Just until we're sure we weren't followed. Then I'll walk back with you to the fort," he said, still whispering.
     Ethan had no idea what he was caught up in but he didn't like it. He still wasn't even sure why they were running in the first place. But he understood that James was trying to look out for him so he stepped inside the outhouse and sat down. He was just pulling Sweetie out of the bag when James whispered through a knot hole in the wood on the back wall of the tiny outhouse, "Whatever you do, don't open up that door until I come back. Understand?"
     "Yes," Ethan whispered back. But he didn't understand. He didn't understand at all.

YA Author Series - Author Spotlight: M. Wednesday

M. Wednesday

Three Things About Me and Why I Write:

I’m 25, and as a housewife, I’ve been pursuing my career as a full-time writer for the past three years.

When I’m not writing, I’m drawing, playing guitar, skateboarding, entertaining my dogs, or taking care of my plants, or fish tanks. (I have a lot of plants – they’re all tropical and they hate Connecticut winters.)

I’ve always been a writer.  

My dream since second grade was to be an author, and my husband has helped me pursue that dream to the highest degree. I always felt like words and books were just my element. Since very little, I’d find happiness in daydreams and bringing them to life through spiraled bound notebooks. Simply, I write because the people living in my head need their story told.

The Story . . .

Moon Reign is my first real book – a full length novel where I’ve thrown my whole soul into it. It revolves around nineteen-year-old Drystan and his dragon, Soren, and how they witness what is said to be known as The Birth of a Unicorn the night prior to Soren’s unwilling farewell. For hundreds of years, unicorns, their magic, and their origins have been condemned to legend throughout the galaxy. Though Drystan has his doubts of this phenomenon, his urgent need to reestablish his father’s depleting health drives his faith towards the healing powers of star magic, the most dynamic force in the universe embedded in unicorns. However, they were not the only ones to have witnessed The Birth. Drystan determinedly leaves home in pursuit of it, and Soren, a kingdom away, endeavors to stop the new people in his life to abandon their obstinate desires in capturing the unicorn for themselves. 

Three Things to Know as You’re Reading…

Drystan's father, Hamond, a wealthy landowner and owner of a dragon breeding business in Hardinggate, is battling failing health.

All the while, Drystan is battling with Hamond's decision of selling four-year-old Soren for an extremely lavish price. Come morning, the Prince of Aledonia, the Elvish kingdom to the North, will have a dragon of his own…

This is their final flight, their last moments together before daybreak disbands true friendship. But, it’s blessed with the light of a phenomenon, one that triggers Drystan to leave home in search of something that could cure his ailing father. 

Where Can You Find Me. . .  

There’s this coffee shop in Middletown, CT called Perkatory. I’m usually there with a turmeric latte… No, I’m playing. I’m active on Instagram @m.wednesday’s_inkwell. Once Moon Reign is published, which all my stars are aligned to hopefully be published by the end of spring/early summer 2019, my debut will be available on all indie author platforms. I’m aiming to have Moon Reign in a few local bookstores in my town that support indie authors, as well.

From . . . Moon Reign . . .

The sun had diminished to a bright orange streak, inky clouds crowning the sky. The cliffs called to them, as they always did. A place of silence and solitude. A place where flight broke free. 

Thundering waves attacked the rocks on a lulling metronome. Drystan’s attention folded to the looming castle behind… Nothing. No signs of movement. No wings rounding elegant towers. A sigh hopped him onto Soren’s back.  

Claws gripped the edge of the land, particles crumbling to hissing whitewash. This is it… this is… our last flight. He gulped down the impaling thought. But, you’re right beside me. And nothing in this moment could separate that. He inhaled the ocean breeze and all the scents carried within. Breathe. All he had to do was breathe and his wings would carry them away into the patient sky. Eyes fluttered open to clustered stars. The sky always understood, always waited. And, with a small confident leap… 

He dove.

Dove them into a time-stopping fall. Dove to abandon all despondent thoughts. The air, the rush, revived and renewed with fleeting euphoria. Oh, how he wished their fall could plummet them out of tomorrow’s sight. 

Parachute wings braced their fall, angling them with the land. Hardinggate’s dimly lit seafront came into view. Piers and ships along a cluttered boardwalk. The curve of lights along the coast. Up… Up, and over the city, wide easy arches combed velvety moonlight. Wings pivoted towards the black sea. There, still miles from the harbor, a triad of ships sailed towards land. 

Playful circles rounded above, swooping closer. 

With each.

Large. 

Bend. 

Coasting alongside their decks, wingtips smacked the waves between paralleled glides. Spray from the bowsprit blew with salty kisses. If anyone on board observed the dragon’s ballet at their port side, he didn’t know. And, if they hadn’t, they were too late. Soren surged upwards in a leisure spiral.  

He leveled on an air current, somewhere between planet and stratosphere. All was quiet, save for the occasional drum of his wings. Beyond, ocean and oxygen melted into abysmal darkness. Above, stars and distant galaxies seemed wet enough to smear, watercolor on canvas. Sceaobyss sliced through the masterpiece with its neon blue rings, Arigae’s tropical neighboring planet. Thin gridlines of starships, strung high past the moon, laced between the two planets. 

Their bond, fastened under the network of stars above, grounded deeper than the ocean below, could not be swayed even with approaching dread. Neither spoke. Words would not express the grief, the fear, that lay just beneath the surface of their bliss. And a satisfying silence capped their flight.  

Drystan released his grip, unbinding his hands from the leather straps, and sat upright. He kicked his shoes from the short stirrups, letting his legs hang casually. Heights inflicted no fear. Gaze meandered to the heavens. 

But, expectation was thwarted. 

He strained his eyes. Refocusing. Blinking. No, it was there. It was definitely there. Parting stars and atmosphere, a wispy pattern of dusty rose in its wake… “Soren, look.” He tapped the dragon’s neck… “Look up there. You see that?” …And Soren craned his eyes. Blackness was seared with a captivating streak of magenta light. A curious head-tilt angled Soren’s wings. “…What is it?” He tightly flattened into Soren’s ascent.   

 “I don’t know.” Hushed interest hooked in his rasp. “It looks like… a comet.” 

 “A comet? No, that’s too fast to be a comet.” Arigae welcomed it, magenta igniting to neon pink as it punctured another layer of sky. 

“Maybe a shooting star? I didn’t think there was such a thing as pink stars, though.”

 Reply came distantly. “… Neither did I.” 

And Soren’s giggle-snort came with delight. “It’s the Birth of a Unicorn.” 

Drystan shook his head at Soren’s reference to the fabricated children’s tales. “Right, that’s exactly what it is.” Pink gaseous trail smudged in its wake. But, the bedtime stories he’d heard growing up… The stories of legend and magic and brave hunters who fought the most powerful unicorns into extinction… They watched neon-rose slowly dissolve into space, following until the East swallowed it up. “Who’s to say they even existed in the first place?”  

 “Well, I think they were real,” Soren muttered. 

 “Horned space horses. Known as the only creatures to possess star magic, whose one desire was to bring love and peace to the galaxy, devoured under man’s blade and never to be seen again. Right.” 

 “Oh, c’mon. Remember Hamond telling us those stories that one winter? We were little, but –”

 “You were little. He was telling you those stories.”          

 “How did it go? Something that they were all stars…?” 

“That unicorns were mere stardust. And, when they died here in our world they would return to the stars, to be reborn in another. Yeah. Something like that. You know how it goes. I’m sure every kid grew up hearing the same stories.” Recalling young nights by the fire with his father, a quilt and socks, a hot mug in chilled hands… “Even if they were real,” he huffed, thwarting memories, “They haven’t existed for hundreds of years. Hunters slaughtered ‘em all. Because, supposedly, they had the most powerful magic in all of creation. S’pose to be more mind-blowing than any magic. Even the Elves’ magic. Or, dragon magic.”   

“I don’t have any magic,” Soren answered flatly. 

“Well,” came a shrugged eye-roll, “Alright, wild dragon magic.”

 Soren pondered over denying words and old fables, all the while admiring where plunging magenta had scored the night. “I think it’s a legend,” he decided, a glimmer in his eye, “And, legends stemmed from truth at one point in time. Don’t you think?” 

A chuckling smile pushed dark hair from the wind. “Whatever you want to believe, Soren. That’s fine with me.” The last wisp of pink dust faded, blurred, and the night claimed its unknown destination.  

 

YA Author Series - Author Spotlight: Leslie Arambula

Leslie Arambula

Tell us three things about who you are and why you write . . .

I’m a wife, teacher, author, and mother of three.

Some of my hobbies include picking up the same toys over and over again, cooking, video games, reading, and avoiding stacks of papers that need to be graded.

I write because the people in my head won’t stop telling me their stories, but mostly because I think stories connect us to each other, and I hope that mine will do that for readers as well.

Tell us about the story…

Nobody will tell Gia about her mom, but she is on a mission to learn more about her. The opportunity comes on Gia’s fifteenth birthday, in the form of a surprise package. Little does Gia know that the small box contains a power that will change her fate and the fate of the world.

What are three things you want us to know as we read?

This scene happens in the opening chapter of the book.

Gia’s mom and Alex’s parents were all killed in the same accident when the girls were just toddlers.

Gia has been a victim of bullying for years, and Alex always tries to shield her from it.

Where can we find this story? Where can we find you?

My story is currently unpublished but will be soon!

IG @authorlesliearambula

Twitter @leslie_arambula

Website: lesliearambula.com

FROM . . . Guardian (Working Title)

When I woke up the next morning, I was laying on the couch in the living room and the monster movie marathon I had been watching was now an infomercial about slow cookers. I turned it off just as a loud knock on the door startled me out of the lumpy cushions.

When I opened the front door, nobody was there. Looking down, a pile of envelopes were laid on top of a brown package. I scooped them up and deposited them onto the entryway table then went to grab some cereal.

A pang of loneliness thumped in my chest. I thought that my dad would have at least tried to postpone or shorten his current trip for my 15th birthday. I was wrong. 

My mother had only been alive until my third birthday, and then she and Alex’s parents had been in a train wreck on their daily commute to work. Alex’s grandmother, Sofia, moved in with her across the street and had become the only real parent Alex and I had ever really known.

Now, I stayed at my own house but shared a lot meals and time with them when Dad wasn’t home. So pretty much every night. 

The front door handle jiggled from the other room, and someone came in. I could hear rummaging in the pantry. Alex.

She walked into the dining room. She wore cutoffs and a Led Zepplin shirt she’d bought at Goodwill a few months ago. She was munching on a granola bar, and didn’t even wait to swallow it as she said, “Happy birthday! Wait—what are you doing? I thought we were going to the bookstore today.”

“Yeah, but I thought we said at eleven.”

“It is eleven, goofball,” she said.

When I trudged up the stairs, Alex grinned, grabbed up my cereal bowl, and went to pour herself some while she waited. 

When I had showered, I went to my room and found Alex, feet up on my desk, playing Call of Duty and bossing her teammates around. The empty cereal bowl rested on one of my library books. I moved it on top of my Chemistry homework to avoid any milk stains that I’d have to pay for. 

“You guys go around from the west, and I’ll hit them from the East. No, not you, idiot. You’re coming with me. You’ve got the RPG, right?”

A few minutes later, the game cut to the lobby between matches. Alex pumped her fist and pulled off the headset. 

“Impressive,” I said. “I wonder where you learned that strategy.”

“Ha ha,” she countered, “If I can’t be a genius tactician, I might as well rip one off. So, thanks, genius tactician.” 

“Thanks, but you should actually thank the English. It was actually back in 1332—” 

“Are we going or what?”

“Sure,” I rolled my eyes and let her change the topic. 

As we were about to leave, she stopped short. 

 “I saw this on my way in,” she pointed to the small brown package that had come with the mail. “You should open it.” 

I had forgotten all about it. 

“I’m not into dog food samples, but thanks.” 

The typical packages sent here were from companies sending things to my dad in an effort to get his feedback or so he could compare some of the competition’s products. 

“It’s for you, dummy,” she sighed. “It has your name on the top.”

Confused, I picked it up like it was one of the bombs the other team had just seen blown up in their faces. It was a small, square, heavy box. On the outside, it was wrapped in plain brown paper, a little worse for wear, but I was surprised it had made it through the postal system without tearing. On the top, written in a looping scrawl was my name: Giassa Renee Meliar. 

“Weird,” I said. “Nobody uses my whole—”

“Just open it already,” Alex interrupted, bouncing up and down like a bratty toddler.

As my fingers brushed the rough paper, I thought about opening this later, when I was alone. Alex was my best friend, practically my sister and we spent every holiday, birthday, and every day together. But this felt different. This felt private.

Pushing that feeling aside, I began to unwrap it. Beneath the wrapper was a wooden box, a deep red wood that was so slick, it gleamed in the light streaming in from my window. I ran a finger over it. I hesitated. I didn’t want to be disappointed too quickly. Happy Birthday, here’s some premium dog treats!

“What is it?” Alex broke through my thoughts. 

When I cracked open the lid, something small and round caught the light and blinded me for just a moment before I angled the lid all the way open. 

It was a sphere, a glass orb, sitting within a dark blue velvet compartment in the box. My memory flashed: the man that I thought I had hallucinated in the forest. And again in my dream last night. That man had an orb like this. What did it mean?

I reached a hand toward the orb, but stopped myself. Pinned to the inside of the lid was a scrap of paper with four words on it:

For Gia, 

Love Mom

“Do you think—” Alex breathed beside me. 

I jumped. I had forgotten that she was even there. I closed the lid and straightened. 

“She’s dead,” I said. “It’s fake. A sick joke.”

Alex’s face crumpled into something that looked like pity and then jealousy, so I stared out the window instead, sticking my hand in my pockets and fiddling with my keys.

“Are we going?” 

Alex cleared her throat, “Yeah.” She pulled her gaze from the note. 

I left the room first, trying to put as much distance between me and that box as possible. 

YA Author Series - Author Spotlight: Alison Aldridge

Alison Aldridge

Tell us three things about who you are and why you write . . .

I am a natural redhead.  I drink a lot of tea and feel it can solve most problems.  I am a mum to a son, daughter and two pussy cats.

I write because when I don’t write I feel stressed. It is a release for me.  My imagination never switches off so if I don’t let it go somewhere it gets crowded in my head.  Sometimes, to sleep, I have to jot down ideas otherwise they keep me up all night.

Tell us about the story…

Mariah has a magic-meddling mum, and about to discover she’s a storm summoning mermaid that needs to gain control of her emotion-connected powers ready for the impending battle with the powerful, unstoppable death crows!

What are three things you want us to know as we read?

You most likely think you are an ordinary human being but what if one day your ordinary life was turned upside down.  Everything is changing, you feel vulnerable and start crushing on your best friend. Do you peruse that romance knowing it could destroy your friendship or watch in agony as they get closer to someone else.  To make matters worse, imagine your emotions give life to your dormant supernatural abilities and you have no idea how to control them. This is what is starting to happen to Mariah.

Where can we find this story? Where can we find you?

Link Tree:  https://linktr.ee/redfae

Website:  https://allyaldridge.wordpress.com/

Wattpad: @redfae  https://www.wattpad.com/user/redfae

IG:  @redfae https://www.instagram.com/redfae/

Twitter:  @Fae7 https://twitter.com/Fae7

Goodreads:  Alison Aldridge https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8108229.Alison_Aldridge

From… Jewel of the Sea…

Splinters threatened my skin as my hands grasped the wood and pulled at the panel of cheap fencing to open a triangle at the foot. Once wide enough to fit through, I flattened myself to the ground. Using my elbows and hips I pushed my way past the rich scent of soil that warmed my heart and made me think of my best friend Jace.

Once through on the other side, I dusted the dirt off my knees. Jace's garden looked empty. My shoulder stung.  As I glanced to my left I saw where I'd caught myself on the fence. The scratch left a bright red line and blood smudged across onto my blue vest top. Mum would be mad. I licked my thumb and tried to rub it off.

"Aghhh!" I screamed as my body was shocked in an icy cold shower. I turned around to find Jace standing there with the garden hose in his hand, laughing his head off.

"Jace!" I yelled. We'd spent all summer hanging out, like always.

With a naughty glint in his eye, he lifted the hose and soaked me again.

"Cut that out!" I ran at him to pull the hose out of his hand. He dodged out of my way and ran past me. As I chased after him, round his garden, he kept spraying me over his shoulder. In the beautiful heat of the summer sun, I welcomed the refreshing relief.

Finally, trapping him by the shed, I grabbed the hose. He still wouldn't let go and as we wrestled over it, he kept managing to squirt my face. Using my fingers, I changed the direction of the water and got him back. He made a funny gurgling noise and laughed, shaking the water from his blonde mop of hair.

"That doesn't sound like my plants are getting watered!" Denny yelled from the kitchen window. His mum was younger than mine. She had delicate features and high cheekbones framed by her dark pixie cut.

"Sorry, mum," Jace yelled back. His lip curled on one side as he tried in earnest to appear sincere, "You need to let go so I can continue with my chores."

"No way," I giggled, knowing as soon as I let go, he'd spray me, "We'll just have to do it together."

We then started watering the plants together, both refusing to let go of the hose.

"This is stupid Mariah," His blue eyes twinkled. "It would be much quicker if you just let me do it."

"I know you too well, Jace." I grinned as I argued back. "Why don't you just let me do it?"

"I couldn't shirk my responsibilities like that." Jace countered.

"I really don't mind."  I felt him try to tip the hose up towards me. The water ran up the fence but I managed to stop him. "Cut it out, Jace?"

"Oops!" He said with humour, his eyes alive with merriment.

The afternoon continued with the same upbeat light-heartedness. We sat out in the sun, enjoying ice creams and chilled drinks. Little did I know that it would be one of the last days of carefree fun and games next-door.  It started with Denny arriving at our house without Jace. We always found excuses to hang out together, so it made me feel unsettled that he hadn't come over with her.

She'd come to see mum, but I hovered around the kitchen. Her eyes stared down into a mug of tea, slowly stirring her sugar spoon, her gaze lost in a deep spin of thought.

"Are you going to drink that or spit out what's on your mind?" Mum asked.

Denny sighed, "I was hoping you already knew."

Mum isn't like ordinary mums. She is that woman with dark flowing hair who tells fortunes at spiritual fairs.

I stood up on my tiptoes to reach the cake tin and helped myself to one of the buttercream cupcakes; a product of mum and Denny's Sparkle Cake home bakery business.

"Don't make me dig out my crystal ball..." Mum threatened Denny. Her tone made me think I'd been caught with my sugary delight. For a moment I paused, wincing as I waited for 'don't spoil your dinner' or 'stop eating our profits' but she was too focussed on Denny to notice me.

Denny took a deep breath like she was conjuring up the courage to speak. With an awkward smile on her face, she said, "Dave and I have found somewhere to live together, a home of our own." But her blue eyes shone, brimming with tears.

"That's great news." Mum cheered.

"But..."

"What is it, Denny?"

"We’ll no longer be neighbors and it's all the way over on the other side of town. I feel so conflicted. It's perfect but I'm gonna miss you guys."

Her words were like the icy shower from the hose but without the warm relief of the sun or uplifting sound of Jace's laughter.

"You can't!" I snapped. Jace was my life! I needed him close! I needed him next door! I no longer wanted the bun, it was too sweet and I cast it aside on the counter.

"The cakes?" Denny gasped realizing what I'd done.

Mum threw me a disapproving look, "Mariah, go get the washing off the line!"

I stormed out the kitchen through the back door of our small terrace house, slamming it shut behind me. Without bothering to unpeg the clothes from the line, I began pulling them free and dumping them into the laundry basket. This haphazard manner completed the task too fast and I wasn't ready to go back inside.

I snuck over to the fence looking for the loose panel and pulled... but it wouldn't move. Then, I saw the evil glint of a new nail, hammered in to keep the plank in place; Keeping me out. I kicked at it, hurting my foot.

I sank onto the grass, my back pressed against the fence.  As I gazed up towards Jace's bedroom window my heart felt like a rock, unpleasant and heavy in my chest. I was consumed by a sinking feeling as I realised he really was going and there was nothing I could do about it.  

Then, to make matters worse, the sky beautiful blue sky darkened.  Heavy rapid rain soaked through my t-shirt as I raced inside. I didn't stop in the kitchen with mum and Gwyn, I carried on up to my room.  I dropped onto my bed, laying on my back, staring out the window at the raging storm that felt as if it spoke to my soul, mirroring my anger.

YA Author Series Launch: CL Walters

Over the next seven weeks, this blog will feature seven different authors who write Young Adult Stories.

Each Monday in April (and into May), a new author (published and unpublished) will be featured along with a 500-1000 words selection of her work (sorry, guys - no men submitted! What the heck!?!? Your assignment is to go read any or all of these authors: Marcus Zusak, Jeff Zentner and John Green).

Today, I will launch the format using my own work so you’ll get a sense of what to look for in the coming weeks. I hope this series is beneficial for you as readers (maybe you’ll find your next favorite author in the coming weeks), as well as for the author as a growth opportunity to share their voices.

FEEDBACK WANTED!

Be sure to provide the guest authors some CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK! Either in the comments section or in some capacity on their social media platforms. As writers - constructive feedback fuels us.

Drum roll please . . .

CL Walters

Tell us three things about who you are and why you write . . . I write because I can’t not write (please forgive the double negative). When I don’t, I turn into a bitch and that isn’t healthy for my family or my marriage. Writing is like breathing, so without it, I’m not living. Second, I adore stories - reading them, studying them, writing them - it all blends together. Finally, I write stories which I categorize as “young adult” but I hope they are just human stories that anyone at any age can enjoy.

Tell us about the story we’re going to read (your elevator pitch). . . Gabe is faced with a choice between life and death; the question is, what will he discover about himself to help him make the decision.

What are three things you want us to know as we read? This story is the third act of a trilogy. The first two books explore Abby’s and Seth’s stories in Swimming Sideways and The Ugly Truth. Gabe’s story The Bones of Who We Are has been challenging to write but not only because of the writing, but because of the content which swirls around bullying, victimization and depression.

Where can we find this story? Where can we find you (IG, Twitter, FB, website). The Bones of Who We Are is slated to be published this coming October (2019). In the meantime, you can catch up with Swimming Sideways and The Ugly Truth which are on Amazon (Kindle and Print). I can be found on IG (@cl.walters) and Twitter (@peeledandcored), my website (www.clwalters.net) and FB (CLWalters).

From… The Bones of Who We Are:

(YA Contemporary - Language Warning…)

I hate walking through the Quad. It’s a necessity twice a day unless I want to take the long way around the outside of the school. The deciding factor is always which one has the potential for more problems. Outside, I run the risk of an actual fight. In the Quad, I run the risk of mocking, maybe shit thrown at me, or something else to make me feel less than human. The first one means physical harm. The second one emotional and mental, but I can usually block it out with my headphones.

When I turn the corner from the stairwell into the opening of the Quad, it’s full. This time of the school day - lunch - it usually is. People are either in the cafeteria or there, especially as the weather turns rainy and cold. They sit on or around a myriad of red and black tables, congregate by the vending machines in red and black metal cages, and flirt with someone they crush on moving like honey bees from table to table. Some industrious students use the space to study, but not very often at lunch. It’s a space with very little adult supervision. This is for several reasons. First, the school office is across the way which adults must assume is a deterrent for teen bullshit (it isn’t) and, second, it’s lunch time. Teachers are either in the cafeteria, eating lunch with their work friends, or in their classrooms making space for those industrious students needing a place to escape the teen bullshit in the Quad.

I hesitate for a moment, consider walking around the outside or cutting through the offices, but then am annoyed for even thinking about it. I have every right to walk through the Quad. I shouldn’t have to feel worried to do it. But then that’s the problem of positivity, of allowing in layers of hope. It crumbles without a proper foundation, and just like I’d told Doc it would happen, the mouth of the escape route collapses burying me inside. It was, after all, only a matter of time.

I’m halfway across the space when I’m yanked backward. I keep my feet, but my hoodie cuts into my throat choking me. I rock backward and then forward.

Laughter.

“What the fuck!” I turn.

Tommy Pilner, his hands raised in mock surrender and smiling like he’s just caught a mouse, says, “Yo. Daniels. You don’t have to go all HAM, dude.”

I’ve known Tommy since coming to Cantos and he’s always been the same; he loves the Freak Challenge. He’s taken full advantage of the fact I don’t throw hands. Seth used to say his dad described Tommy as a younger version of his old man. I think: aren’t we all, which doesn’t bode well for any of us. “Fuck off,” I tell him, and turn away.

He grabs my hood again, but this time pulls with so much force I’m yanked off my feet. I slam against the floor on my back.

Laughter.

“Jesus, Daniels. What the fuck? You really should be more careful. You could get hurt.” Tommy laughs looking at his friends. “You all see him slip?”

They are laughing.

I’m on my feet.

Here’s another thing about hope - besides the risk of losing it - it begins to warm the cold and melt away the perceptions of what you’ve come to think you deserve into something more golden. You look outside the clear window, feel that sunshine, and think: Yeah. I could go out there and play. When the storm comes in, you remember what that sun felt like, and you want the fucking sun.

So, maybe I wouldn’t have a few weeks ago, but I take a step toward Tommy.

His smile falters.

The Bones of Who We Are… Coming October 2019






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#momlife, #writerslife

Humor me with a flashback: When I was thirteen I was positive I was going to be the next Emily Dickinson with the romantic idealism of wasting away in our farmhouse attic and writing poetry that would one day be famous.  The purpose of this flashback is to offer an anecdote to show I’ve been writing and have wanted to be a writer for a long time. I wrote my first story when I was eight, so writing is a formative experience on my timeline from then to the present. But this reflection isn’t so much about the past as it is about how it informs the present.

I was twenty-seven when I had my first child. A girl. Looking back, I’d only just slipped on my adult shoes: I’d been out of college for three years and just started my professional life as an educator. When she was born, remembering life before her was difficult because it felt like life had just begun.

My Baby Girl: she had attitude from the moment she was born.

I took a year off to be a stay-at-home mom. During that year, I got to know my daughter, and in between being exhausted and enamored, I wrote my first novel. It was a historical romance novel with an amnesia twist. (I know. I know. We all have to begin somewhere. It is in a drawer where it belongs). This milestone provided me the experience that I COULD be a mom, and I COULD write a book.

At twenty-seven, I was pretty sure I had it all together. I don’t remember thinking: I’m changed, but looking back, I see now I began to redefine myself. Maybe some mothers would say the redefinition begins during pregnancy, but in my experience, my shift toward motherhood was relegated to healthy choices and weight gain. I still felt like myself - only, slightly better. It was after Baby Girl was born motherhood began to reshape my identity. It shaved down my edges into a smoother more pliable version of myself. It challenged my perceptions and pushed me to learn and seek new understandings about previously held opinions. I began to understand what it means to be selfless.

As a writer, I am a self-centered person. Let me clarify: I don’t mean SELFISH. That’s different. I mean my focus is centered around whatever is happening in my head. I think most creatives and artists can relate. Becoming a parent insisted I reorient. My time was no longer my time alone.

My daughter took this of me - I was sitting at the computer attempting to write. This was about the fifth time she’d interrupted me.

I continued to write, but it was between things like breastfeeding, working, commuting to and from work, feeding the family, playtime, bath time, book time, and bedtime. And Baby Girl was a strong willed child, so nothing ever went as planned. Thank goodness there were two of us. There wasn’t much time left.

Baby number two arrived four years later. I had my Baby Boy. And I returned to being a Stay-at-Home mom with him. I got to know my little guy, who is so different than his big sister, the epitome of happy and content. I began to write again. This time I completed two romantic suspense novels set in Hawaii. Queried and was rejected.

He was only a week old when I took this picture. He hasn’t stopped smiling.

Then I went back to work, but this time, I worked at the school where my now school-aged children began. My identity hovered around my children, my family, and my work. Writing took a back seat - as usual - but not because I couldn’t. It was because that was my choice. I still wrote, but sustaining any writing was difficult. So, in between new ideas that I’d list in a notebook, I spent ten years writing and rewriting a YA novel, a paranormal romance. Queried and rejected multiple times over and over. I put it away, sure I was never meant to be a writer.

Life twists and turns. I changed jobs and focused on my career as a teacher. It hosted my identity and made me feel validated because it is something at which I excel while my writing faced rejection after rejection. Writing - my writing - was given only the time I provided to my journaling students but somewhere in the mix, I rewrote that YA again, removing all of the paranormal elements. I don’t know why. An exercise perhaps.

Where does the time go? We blink and the distance between events expands.

Suddenly, I have a daughter moving away to college and a son starting high school. Time devoted to them and our family stretches out before me. I’ve heard many mother’s lament the loss of their babies. I feel it. I see pictures of my babies, my children as toddlers, each stage a beautiful dance all the way through. I feel joy and poignant loss. And then I see pictures of myself and think: I don’t recognize you. But I don’t feel lost. In a way, I feel reborn.

I took a leave of absence from teaching this year. As my I transition from a mom of independent children, I’ve had the opportunity to look more closely at myself. The mom duties have changed now, have reoriented from all my time to some of it. I’ve had the opportunity to help my son transition to high school, be available for college freshman woes, but the need for mom has waned significantly other than to be a nag about homework, a taxi and a hug.

And there it was - time. Stretched out like a ribbon wrapped around a gift. I could write again.

So I have. I’ve dug in. I rewrote that YA. It’s independently published. I wrote the second book in the series. It’s Independently published too. I’m revising the third book in the series, and it will be independently published later this year. I completed Nanowrimo this year with 70,000 on a new book and a host of ideas in that notebook. I still have time for my family, they just don’t need as much of it.

What I would tell myself as a young mother now that I’ve lived her reality: Don’t worry about your time. You will get it back. Enjoy every moment of these children - even the difficult parts. It goes so very quickly.

Now, I look in the mirror and think: I know you. I knew you when you were thirteen and thought you’d be Emily Dickinson. I laugh at my reflection and think: There’s time. There’s time.

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