C. Lee McKenzie's Blog, page 19
August 19, 2020
WEP August 2020 Challenge
Sign Up And Enjoy the Excitement of Story Telling
I’ve always enjoyed slice of life stories and especially ones with quirky characters that leave me wondering about who they are really and what might happen to them after the story ends. I thought I’d have some fun and try to create one of those SOL stories of my own.
I’m not a fan of “respelling,” but I did some here because it seemed to fit and it was short, so I didn’t have to endure page after page of talkin’ and outta.
So….drum roll…here’s
The Lynching
About the time the sun hits the top of the mountain–yep that’s the best time to set the trap. He’ll be comin’ from the east and won’t see a damned thing round the bend. By my calculation he”ll be just about smack under the Buzzard Tree and blind as a bat.
Duchane got himself duded up for the occasion. New hat and new hardware rope slung over his shoulder. Kenny Dumont brought his pa’s shotgun, but I know the kid don’t have the sense to aim the thing let alone pull the trigger. Before I left the house, I tucked my Bowie knife into its sheath just in case three against one with surprise on their side wasn’t good enough. Can’t never be too careful when you’re out to string a man up. I’m sure he won’t cotton to that idea at all.
“Gotta take a leak Bart. Here, you hang onto the rope.”
Duchane’s bladder’s about the size of a grape. I take the rope, but that means if that bugger comes while Duchane’s playing bear in the woods, I’ll have to change up the plan. I should’a called on Newt for this job. He might be seventy, but he’d pee his pants before he’d sabotage a planned attack like this one.
And sure as I’m my mama’s best boy, here comes that weasel Barney Treamont. I can tell the way he sits his horse, he’s already had a few hours at Josie’s Bar. Well, that there’s something else to make all of this a lot easier.
Treamont’s sort of leaning over his horse’s head like he’s having a heart to heart with her. Nice horse. It’ll be a good one for Nell. Kind of elegant looking, but gentle. Treamont was never a rider, so all his horses were good and broke to the saddle before he threw his leg over ‘em.
Where’s that Duchane? “Kenny.” I keep my voice low and motion the boy close. “We got to change up the plan. You take that side of the road. I’ll take this one. Don’t point that damned gun at anything you don’t aim to shoot.”
“Got it.” He crouches and makes it behind a boulder at the edge of the road about the same time Treamont comes around the bend.
The pinched-faced little weasel blinks into the glare, and I grab him by the leg and pull him off his saddle.
“What the…” He has a loud, kind of twangy voice that always grates on my nerves. Now that isn’t enough for me to want this waster gone. It’s for Nell that he needs his neck stretched.
She’s had a rough go from day one in this world. Her mama dead before Nell took her first breath. Then there’s the fact that she didn’t come with a head for doing much of anything except feed, water, and nurse animals. Nell could pull a dying filly onto her feet before any vet I ever called to the barn, and every cow gave her double the milk. She talked to ‘em and there were times I swear they talked back to her. That made it hard for people to understand her, and it made it darned hard for me to raise her proper. I done my best, but a girl who’s not right in the head is more than a handful for the likes of me.
Treamont’s squirming under my boot. His eyes got that panic in them, but I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do. Nell must ‘a had some of that panic when he did that thing to her. She never said, but when she forgot to close the hen house door that night, I knew she was hurting. Nell never forgot to care for our critters. They was her family.
I’ve got the noose around Treamont’s neck when Duchane clomps his way outta the trees. “I got his hands,” Duchane says like I need his help now.
Kenny’s aimed his pa’s shotgun at the sky, so the most he’ll shoot is a duck late to the marsh. But he’s forgot what he’s supposed to do.
“Kenny! Get. His. Horse. Over here.” I’m used to handling slow thinkers, but today my patience is wearing thin.
“What are you doing?” Treamont’s sober enough to notice the itchy rope against his throat, but Duchane’s got his hands tied behind him, so all Tremeont can do is twist his head and shuffle his feet.
“We’re hanging you, Treamont. And because I’m a Christian sort of man, I’m going to do two things.” I hold up one finger. “I’m going to let you say a prayer to ask for forgiveness.” I held up the second finger. “And I’m going to tell you why you’re dying.”
My sheets aren’t as white a Treamont’s face. He looks downright bleached.
“I’ve done nothing to harm you, Bart McKinny.”
“That’s not what my Nell tells me.” Now, the truth is Nell talks about as much as a gnat, but I seen Treamont coming outta my barn, straw poking up in his hair. And I seen Nell follow him, her top done up so the buttons don’t match. I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck, and I can add up what I see real fast. “You de-filed my girl.”
No way did I expect Treamont was going to bend over laughing the way he did.
I’m about to give his scrawny butt a good kick with my boot when he straightens up and says, “Your Nell jumped me. But I’m not complaining. I was coming to you now to ask for your blessing. I want to marry Nell.”
If I was a thrashing machine, my gears would be stripped. My Nell married? There are miracles in this world. I size up Treamont again. Not much bigger around than a twig, a short neck that only just let the rope fit under his chin, a real disappointment in the man department, but he might be just right in the Nell husband one.
“Here, let me help you outta that rope contraption.” I tug the noose from over his head, and Duchane unties his hands. “I’d be pleased to give you my blessing, Treamont.”
I pat him on the back until his color’s more natural and Kenny finally leads Treamont’s horse under the Buzzard Tree. Treamont’s still kind of shaky, but he gets back up and rides away a lot faster than I ever seen him do before.
Me, Duchane, and Kenny stand there scratching our chins, kind of feeling the let down of not having Treamont’s lynching to talk about over our beer for the next twenty years.
But the sun disappears behind the next peak, and long shadows from the mountains creep across the Buzzard Tree. Those shadows remind me of a story about how revenge stretches across a lot of years always trying to even up a score.
“Probably wasn’t a good idea to do Treamont in,” I finally say. “How about we get some cold ones at Josie’s?
August 12, 2020
Against All Odds by Jacqui Murray
Let’s travel back, far back, in time with Xhosa and her people, but let’s do it through the storytelling talent of a modern writer. Here are some interesting tidbits that reveal some of the research and behind-the-scenes techniques as well as why they were used.
Spoiler alert: What star guided Seeker from the Iberian Peninsula to the British Isles?
The enormously bright star Venus is located directly above the horizon. This likely is what caught Seeker’s attention, especially during this time of year. What he called a herd of stampeding stars was a meteor shower. He had seen what we today term “shooting stars” at times before in his life but not in this quantity and longevity. To him, it became a sign directing them to their next new home.
You used “said”—I thought they didn’t speak.
In this trilogy, “said” is generic for communicating. It could be verbal but is more likely to be gestures, body language, or facial expressions. I also often use “motioned” and “gestured” to indicate hand signals that communicate their words.
Their speech is too erudite.
As a species, Homo erectus lasted far longer than any other Homo species for a reason: They were not only highly intelligent for the day but made use of rich communication skills. Their sophisticated tools, especially the symmetry of the hand-axe, suggests to many scientists that they could use sophisticated communication. Because the capacity to “speak” with voices remains a hotly-debated topic, with opinions divided on whether the “speech” part of their brain—that allowed them to speak—was evolved enough for verbal words, I present communication often as body language with limited speech.
So What’s this third book in the CROSSROADS series about?
Xhosa’s extraordinary prehistoric saga concludes, filled with hardship, courage, survival, and family.
A million years of evolution made Xhosa tough but was it enough? She and her People finally reach their destination—a glorious land of tall grasses, few predators, and an abundance that seems limitless, but an enemy greater than any they have met so far threatens to end their dreams. If Xhosa can’t stop this one, she and her People must again flee.
The Crossroads trilogy is set 850,000 years ago, a time in prehistory when man populated most of Eurasia. He was a violent species, fully capable of addressing the many hardships that threatened his survival except for one: future man, a smarter version of himself, one destined to obliterate all those who came before.
From prehistoric fiction author Jacqui Murray comes the unforgettable saga of a courageous woman who questions assumptions, searches for truth, and does what she must despite daunting opposition. Read the final chapter of her search for freedom, safety, and a new home.
A perfect book for fans of Jean Auel and the Gears!
Available digitally (print soon) at
Kindle US Kindle UK Kindle CA Kindle AU
Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy, the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers, and the Man vs. Nature saga. She is also adjunct professor of technology in education, blog webmaster, an Amazon Vine Voice, a columnist for NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Look for her next prehistoric fiction, Laws of Nature, Book 2 in the Dawn of Humanity trilogy, Winter 2021.
Connect with Jacqui on her social media
Amazon Author Page . Blog. Instagram . LinkedIn . Pinterest . Twitter . Website.
Are you ready to see what’s in store?
Chapter 1
The foothills of the Pyrenees
They came out of the mountains, hair frozen in sparkling strands, hands and feet wrapped in shredded pelts, ribs etched against their skin under ragged hides white with snow, faces haggard with fatigue. Blood crusted scrapes and gashes, many recent, others almost healed, reminders of the violent struggles endured on their journey.
Though their steps flagged, not one of these upright creatures exhibited a hint of defeat. All males and a few females carried at least one spear, some two, many with warclubs strapped to their backs. Despite the anxiety and fear of entering this foreign land, hope energized them today, that their migration might be at an end.
All of them—Xhosa and her tribe, Pan-do and his, Wind, Zvi, and Seeker—had been chased from their homes by enemies. In their flight, they found each other. It took time to work through their differences but now they traveled side by side, respected ideas not theirs, and called themselves the People.
Their charismatic Leaders—Xhosa, Wind, and Pan-do—were known as reliable friends to those who earned their trust and dangerous enemies to those who opposed them. Two wolves—Spirit and Black Wolf—journeyed with them. Though the People lacked the animals’ sharp claws, dense fur, and piercing teeth, each considered the other “pack” and would defend them to death.
The exhausted group straggled down the gently sloping flank, feet shuffling carefully over the slippery scree. The ground changed from talus to stunted tufts of grass, sparse and brown which made walking easier. Optimism shone from their faces even as their tired eyes flicked side to side in search of unexpected movement, ears strained for out-of-place noises, and noses sniffed.
Rather than continue across the meadow, Xhosa led the People into the shade of the edging forest.
“Do you smell it, Wind?” Anticipation filled her gestures.
She and Wind, pairmates as well as Co-Leaders, stood quietly, absorbing their surroundings. Light filtered lazily through the canopy, the shadowed ground dappled with patches of warmth. She sniffed in the essence of wet earth and rotting leaves, the mustiness of moss, and something else much more enticing.
“It’s there.” She pointed and strode forward, lengthening her stride.
An icy gust whipped down the hillside through the shadows and raised bumps on her arms but she ignored it. The forest gave way to open sky and searing heat. It was too hot for her thin pelt but she didn’t stop to remove it. Green stalks swayed as far as she could see, edged on one side by more mountains and the other by some sort of leaves and branches. Sunlight glinted off the rippled surface of a distant river as it curled over the terrain.
“Dung!” The scent overpowered every other odor.
Wind huffed to her side. “It’s been a long time since we smelled dung that wasn’t frozen.”
“We did it, Wind.” Her eyes glistened with relief.
For most of a Moon, dread gnawed at her courage and left her wondering if following the guidance of Seeker—a boy barely a man—was a mistake. But Seeker assured her in his ebullient way that once out of the hills, their new homebase would welcome them. Xhosa wanted to believe him because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Nor did she know what to do if it didn’t work.
Wind motioned, arms inclusive, “It’s beautiful, Xhosa.”
Siri, Pan-do, Ngili, the wolves Spirit and Black Wolf, and the rest of the People gathered around Xhosa and Wind, eyes locked on what lay in front of them.
Pan-do whispered, “We made it.” His eyes were moist, mouth open.
Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, hands close to his body. “With all this grass, Gazelle or Mammoth must be nearby.”
Dust, the Lead Scout, trotted up, coming from a tall cliff far ahead on their forward path. “I think there are caves there.”
The People hadn’t slept in a cave since leaving Viper and the Mountain Dwellers. It would be a treat if true.
Xhosa looked behind. Shadows already stretched as far from the bottom of the rocky slopes as sunlight to the top. Daylight would soon end.
“We don’t have much time. Let’s rest and then see if those are caves.”
Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, fingers spaced out, palms up, “I’ll go with Dust to check.” He added a swift spread-fingered swipe with first one hand and then the other, followed by a quick bob of his head and a puff.
Xhosa brushed both hands down her sides. Go.
The People spoke with a complex combination of hand motions, facial expressions, body movements, and sounds augmented with chirrups, snaps, hisses, and whistles. By the time Ngili finished talking, Xhosa knew how many would join him, where they would go, and how long they’d be away. The People’s communication was sophisticated but quiet, a precaution especially in unfamiliar areas. Unusual sounds—voices, for example—stood out. All animals made noises but few as varied as the People’s. Why alert Others who lived here to their presence? Xhosa would do that in her own time, in her own way.
Dust, Ngili, and two scouts soon receded into the landscape, the only evidence of their passage a slight disturbance in the slender waving stalks. Despite the dung scents, the abundant plant food, and the glisten of a faraway river, Xhosa crossed her arms over her chest and paced.
Something is wrong.
She searched the forests and the rippling field that had swallowed up Dust and Ngili . Xhosa possessed the ability to see great distances in sufficient detail to find trails, footprints, movement, or the glitter of sun off eyes.
She saw none of those and that made her more uncomfortable.
With this wealth of food and water, Others should be here.
Wind motioned, palms flattened against his chest, “The mountains we crossed touched Sun. They’re cold and barren. Few can do what we did to get here, Xhosa. We are safe.”
Xhosa could hear in his voice, see in his gestures, that despite his bravado, Wind too felt uneasy about what they didn’t see and hear.
But she grinned. “I don’t know how I survived without someone being able to read my thoughts.”
She trotted over to a stream that fed into the river she had noticed. She stretched out on her belly, flat on the soft grass at the water’s edge, and took a long, satisfying drink of the sweet liquid. Thirst quenched, she collected handfuls of the tender shoots of new plants growing along the shore, ate what she wanted and tossed the rest into a communal food pile that would be shared with all the People. It was already filling up with fat fish speared from the slow-moving pools beside the river, tasty reeds and cattails, and even a handful of eggs plucked from nests not hidden well enough along the shore and in the roots of trees. The wolves snapped birds from the air and swallowed them almost whole, coughing up feathers.
Xhosa leaned back on her hands, sniffing the unique fragrance of each groupmember. Zvi was sweaty from wrestling with Spirit. Siri smelled sourly of hunger but she wouldn’t eat until Honey’s bleeding foot was wrapped in mulch and leaves. The females with new babies exuded the pleasant aroma of milk. Some scents jumbled together making them impossible to identify. When Xhosa became Leader of the People, before it merged with Pan-do’s and Hawk’s, the People had been small enough that she could recognize everyone by their odor. Now, she kept track of her tribe while Pan-do did the same with his. Wind helped everyone.
Done eating, the People sprawled on the warm ground, soaking up Sun’s remaining rays, chatting contentedly with gestures and the occasional sigh. Water dripped from their thawing bodies, soaking into the thirsty ground, as the remaining ice and snow on their pelts and in their hair melted away.
Xhosa and Wind sat apart from the others, on a log long ago softened by rot. She uprooted handfuls of grass and wiped the sweat from Wind’s body, as he did hers. The soft scratch felt good and the earthy fragrance reminded her of times long gone. When he finished, she harvested chunks of green moss from the log’s decaying bark and stuffed them into her neck sack. All the People wore one of these around their necks. Even the wolves did when they were migrating.
Finished, she leaned against Wind and closed her eyes. In a group of Others, her pairmate stood out. A Big Head, the People’s traditional enemy, the ones who drove Xhosa and her tribe from their long-established home, Wind had earned Xhosa’s trust by saving her life more than once and then, as a member of her People, sharing Big Head spear tricks and warrior skills with her Leads. Before long, each of them individually told her that thanks to Wind they could now defeat an attack which they couldn’t have done in the past. Whatever distrust her People harbored toward him faded away.
“Xhosa!” Dust panted up to her. “I found a cave. And we found trace of a herd. Ngili is tracking it.”
By the time Sun settled into its night nest, the People were ensconced in the cave Dust found. They had to squeeze together to fit but all were thrilled to sleep without waking to frozen toes and numb fingers. Stone and Zvi—the burliest of the People—lugged rocks in and Siri built a fire that quickly warmed the interior. The subadults gathered kindling to feed it and arranged who would be responsible throughout the night for keeping it lit.
Usually, the wolves slept scattered among the People but with Black Wolf close to delivering her pups, she dug out an opening in the back and claimed it as her den. Then she settled to her belly, one leg forward, the other bent back, eyebrows twitching.
Xhosa strode toward the nest she would share with Wind but stopped at the sight of Seeker, weight on his bottom, legs crossed in front of his body in the uncomfortable position he preferred. His pairmate Lyta curled next to him with their best friend, Zvi.
Xhosa approached Seeker. “You are not outside.”
Every night as long as Xhosa could remember, the enigmatic male lay on his back, gaze fixed steadily on the star-dotted sky, spouting what to Xhosa sounded like gibberish to whoever listened. Intermittently, he leapt to his feet and spun dizzying circles or bounced from one foot to the other, huffing and chirping. Lyta and Zvi would either join him or watch. He once explained to Xhosa that this was how he studied the changes in the night sky—the appearance and disappearance of particular stars or their movement in relation to each other—so he could guide the People accurately. This nightly process was how they had moved from the distant start of Endless Pond to this cave where Endless Pond seemed to end.
He didn’t respond to her statement, didn’t even acknowledge her. That worried Xhosa. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that danger lurked around them, somewhere. Seeker’s anxious look didn’t help.
She squatted at his side and added a question to her declaration. “The stars aren’t talking to you?”
To the side, Lyta wriggled, not comfortable in the seated position Seeker preferred but determined to try because Seeker liked it so much. Zvi crouched on the balls of her feet, the more traditional pose. She’d tried to sit on her bottom, legs crossed in front, but kept falling backward. Besides, it took her too long to rise from that position which meant if Lyta needed help, she couldn’t respond quickly. Squatting, for her, made more sense. Seeker didn’t care. He expected all to do what worked for them. Both his best friend and his future pairmate were long accustomed to his eccentricities.
Finally, Seeker offered Xhosa only a confused frown.
That’s not a “Yes they are,” and that raised the hair on her neck. Before she could ask more, Ngili scrambled through the thistle barrier the youngsters had placed around the cave’s mouth to prevent the entrance of intruders and hurried toward Xhosa.
He motioned, “I lost the herd’s trace in the dark. I’ll try again tomorrow,” and then raced toward where the hunters had gathered. They were all tired. Some would mate before sleeping but not Ngili. He hadn’t given up hope that his pairmate, Hecate, would come back.
After a final glance at Seeker, Xhosa joined Wind in their nest. She squatted behind him and teased the dirt and debris from his long head hair, occasionally focusing on a difficult tangle until her fingers could move easily through his hair. When she finished, he did the same for her.
As he groomed, he said, “I’ll join Ngili tomorrow. If there are herds, we will find them.”
“Pan-do and I will continue with the People.”
They said nothing more, both enjoying the calming feel of nails scratching on their skin and the intimacy of someone they trusted implicitly. Done, both fell asleep.
The first rays of daylight filtered into the cave. Black Wolf was already outside, padding back and forth restlessly, huffing uncomfortably. Wind left with Ngili and a handful of scouts, knowing Xhosa would leave a trail to wherever they settled when Sun’s light ran out. Though Spirit usually went with the hunters, today he stayed with Black Wolf.
Xhosa and Pan-do led. Dust copied their pace and direction but a distance away. With Ngili and Wind searching for meat, Xhosa focused on finding a cave large enough for the People. They strode onward, gaze sweeping the landscape, everyone grazing on berries, roots, and worms as they walked. Sporadically, Xhosa heard a faraway squawk or glimpsed a covey of birds as they exploded into flight, fleeing an unknown threat. It was the direction Ngili and Wind had gone, and told her how far they’d gotten.
The People rested by a waterhole. They searched its shoreline for prints but found none. Wherever the herds lived, they didn’t drink here so the People moved on, through copses of young saplings and around a bed of haphazardly-strewn boulders. The air tasted of flowers, warm earth, and the mild tang of salt, but the dung they found was hard and old.
Xhosa touched Pan-do’s hand and both stopped, eyes forward. “Do you smell that? It reminds me of Endless Pond.”
He pointed to his strong side and the direction they were walking. “From there and there. How can it be on two sides?”
Xhosa tingled. One of her People—Rainbow—had abandoned them long ago, taking many males and females with him. Others she and her People ran into while migrating here told her Rainbow traveled the same route she did but along the opposite shore of Endless Pond. For him, as for her, this was as far as he could go without folding back on himself.
If they got this far. If any survived.
She pushed aside those thoughts. Before searching for whatever remnants remained of Rainbow’s group, the People must find a homebase. All they suffered to get here—the interminable walking, the loss of Hawk, the death of groupmembers, Nightshade’s treachery—was for naught if they didn’t establish a home.
Spirit bumped her leg. Black Wolf panted at her mate’s side, her belly almost touching the ground.
Xhosa motioned, “Your mate’s pups won’t wait much longer. We will find a den for her.”
Spirit took off, his movements graceful and fluid with Black Wolf lumbering after him.
Not much later, Pan-do squinted ahead. “I think Spirit found a cave.”
Xhosa leaned forward, narrowing her gaze, and finally saw where Spirit stopped. He sat on his haunches at the base of a cliff, facing her, nose twitching, tail swishing the dirt behind him.
It took the rest of the day to cross over the craggy scrubland, up and down the deep ravines, and around the occasional spot of slippery ice. The cave proved too small for the People but not for Black Wolf’s needs. With much scuffling and panting, she created a nest for her pups and disappeared into the cool dark hole. The People settled outside, under an overhang that would protect them from rain and predators, and far enough away to not bother the new mother. As soon as Ngili and Wind arrived, shaking their heads that they hadn’t found a herd, they left again to search for signs of a trail left by former inhabitants of this cave.
Xhosa’s chest squeezed and her stomach knotted. Spirit padded up to her side, hackles puffed, nostrils flaring. He agreed. Something about this area made her tingle but for now, until Black Wolf finished, they must stay.
FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WHEN YOU GET YOUR COPY OF
AGAINST ALL ODDS!
August 5, 2020
Two-Question Wednesday
Before I start, here’s how my week began. I opened my blog and found this little surprise–blog suspended! My books may be rotten, but they’re not malicious. In any case, this little greeting means that having today’s post up is as close to a miracle as I’ve ever experienced. Go Daddy came through, found the malware, and managed to restore all of my data. WordPress has been one terrific headache ever since I migrated from Blogger. However, I’m trying to get UpDraftPlus to actually back up my site and not succeeding. Anyone have a suggestion?
Join Us Now
Now, onward and here’s today’s important stuff.
Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG and hashtag is #IWSG.
Every month, we announce a question that members can answer in their IWSG post. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say.
Remember, the question is optional!
August 5 question – Quote: “Although I have written a short story collection, the form found me and not the other way around. Don’t write short stories, novels or poems. Just write your truth and your stories will mold into the shapes they need to be.”
Have you ever written a piece that became a form, or even a genre, you hadn’t planned on writing in? Or do you choose a form/genre in advance?
I suppose I’m in “the form found me” camp. When I wrote my first book, I wanted to go into issues that were affecting teens, so it never occurred to me that I was writing YA, it just turned out that way. Then I found I enjoyed writing about this age group.
When I’m in the YA doldrums, I switch to other forms, like, Middle Grade with adventure and fantasy. They’re fun to write, but again I chose to write a crazy story about alligators before I chose to write MG.
Be sure to visit other posts and see how they answer this question. And here are the awesome co-hosts for the August 5
Susan Baury Rouchard, Nancy Gideon, Jennifer Lane, Jennifer Hawes, Chemist Ken, and Chrys Fey!
I promised TWO QUESTIONS today, so here’s the second one:
Keep Writing with Fey Blog Hop: Share your story about writer’s block, depression, and/or burnout and how you overcame it or what you are currently doing to heal.
My Answer: I only have one solution for these writing crises: I hike or take some very long walks. It may take a few days in a row for me to snap out of non-productive-writer mode, but I always do. When this fails me, then I’ll know it’s time to pack it in and do something else.
Here’s the LINKY LIST for today’s hop!
Catch the sparks you need to conquer writer’s block, depression, and burnout!
When Chrys Fey shared her story about depression and burnout, it struck a chord with other writers. That put into perspective for her how desperate writers are to hear they aren’t alone. Many creative types experience these challenges, battling to recover. Let Keep Writing with Fey: Sparks to Defeat Writer’s Block, Depression, and Burnout guide you through:
Writer’s block . Depression . Writer’s burnout . What a writer doesn’t need to succeed . Finding creativity boosts
With these sparks, you can begin your journey of rediscovering your creativity and get back to what you love – writing.
BOOK LINKS:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Chrys Fey is the author of Write with Fey: 10 Sparks to Guide You from Idea to Publication. She is also the author of the Disaster Crimes series. Visit her blog, Write with Fey, for more tips on how to reverse writer’s burnout. https://www.chrysfey.com/
July 15, 2020
Keep Writing with Fey
Catch the sparks you need to conquer writer’s block, depression, and burnout!
When Chrys Fey shared her story about depression and burnout, it struck a chord with other writers. That put into perspective for her how desperate writers are to hear they aren’t alone. Many creative types experience these challenges, battling to recover. Let Keep Writing with Fey: Sparks to Defeat Writer’s Block, Depression, and Burnout guide you through:
Writer’s block
Depression
Writer’s burnout
What a writer doesn’t need to succeed
Finding creativity boosts
With these sparks, you can begin your journey of rediscovering your creativity and get back to what you love – writing.
BOOK LINKS:
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
When I shared my story about depression and writer’s burnout, I received many emails, comments, and Facebook messages from other writers thanking me for my bravery and telling me about their own trials. That really put into perspective for me how many people suffer from depression and/or burnout in silence. I had no idea those individuals were impacted by these things, just as they hadn’t known that I was, because my outward presence to others was always happy and smiley and bright.
After the supportive response and upon realizing how many writers in my online circles were struggling, too, I wanted to do something to help. I was candid with my experiences and blogged about the things that assisted me through the rough times in the hope that it would aid others.
During this time, I recognized the need for writers to receive support, guidance, tips, reminders, and encouragement during their writer’s block, depression, and burnout. That’s how I got the idea for this book. A book not just about depression or only about writer’s block, but both, and much more.
Since you have picked up this book, that means you may need assistance with one or all of these areas, and I sincerely hope you find what you need here…that tiny spark to get you through whatever you are going through.
As always, keep writing.
Keep believing.
Keep dreaming.
Chrys Fey
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Chrys Fey is the author of Write with Fey: 10 Sparks to Guide You from Idea to Publication. She is also the author of the Disaster Crimes series. Visit her blog, Write with Fey, for more tips on how to reverse writer’s burnout. https://www.chrysfey.com/
July 1, 2020
One of those Rambling Wednesday Posts
This First Wednesday of July I’m answering the question of the month on the IWSG Website. Here, I’m just going to ramble on a bit about what’s happening in my little part of the world.
I finished up my Covid-19 Challenge last week on Day 95 with a total of 341 miles. That means I averaged 3.58 miles a day, so I’m rounding up and saying I met my challenge of 4 miles a day. Out of all that mileage came some interesting lessons for me as a writer.
At first, I really didn’t think I could make it 4 miles. That’s a ways and at my advance age it takes some time, so I’d have to cut out other activities, leave some jobs undone. And I was right. I had to adjust my routine, and guess what? That’s exactly what I needed to do–put a freshness into my days.
I discovered I enjoyed those regular tasks more or they really weren’t that necessary after all. They definitely didn’t seem so boring. Some days the dishes waited until late at night, the bed wasn’t made until I climbed back into it, I made do with leftovers for dinner. The world hadn’t ended, and I’d racked up 4 more miles. Translated into my writer’s world…I can write anytime or not at all, and somehow all will be well.
After the first week, 4 miles didn’t seem very far anymore, and there were some days I did more. My longest walk was 9 miles, and I didn’t know I’d gone that far until I checked my phone. I thought about that and realized that I should apply that to my writing. I needed to stop thinking “I can’t write that next book” and just do it. Nothing’s impossible if I’m determined enough.
There’s a lot to see out there when you’re not rushing. Since I tried to take a different route everyday, I discovered so many places in the town where I’ve lived many years. Things look different when you’re on foot and not driving. Even familiar trails held some surprises for me because I wasn’t on my way anywhere; I was just out for a hike. So why not just enjoy the process of setting down a story? I did that when I first started writing, and I realized I needed to recapture that joy and stop pushing to get that next book finished.
I miss getting up and heading out first thing in the morning, but now stores are opening up, trails and sidewalks are more crowded, traffic has swelled to almost pre-Covid levels, so I’ve decided to only take those long walks once in a while. I may even hook up with some friends again and see how walking with others feels. It has been a while since I’ve had conversations with people face-to-face, and I’m missing that kind of interaction. Zoom has helped, but it can’t replace sharing real, physical time with people I like. Another writer lesson: you have to write alone, but you can’t isolate yourself forever without losing some of the inspiration others bring into your life.
On the Reading Front
Reading has–as always–been a bit part of my daily routine, and I didn’t change that while I’ve been distancing from the rest of the world. I loved this book. What an intricate plotter this writer is. I have a lion’s head knocker exactly like the one on the cover, and it opens a gate into a garden. I had to read this book because of the intrigue that lion’s head and that gate offered. I wasn’t disappointed.
From the sublime to the wacky, or in this case Wonky. I bought this book for one of my little ones. Well, I was laughing so hard while reading it that I had a tough time getting through the story. The kids didn’t find the book half as entertaining as I did, but they thought I was hilarious with tears rolling down my cheeks. They’ll get what’s so funny once they’ve matured.
Quote of the Month: “Life is inherently risky. There is only one big risk you should avoid at all costs, and this the risk of doing nothing.” Anonymous
June 3, 2020
A Summer 1st Wednesday 2020
Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG and hashtag is #IWSG.
Every month, we announce a question that members can answer in their IWSG post. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say.
Remember, the question is optional!
June 3 question – Writers have secrets! What are one or two of yours, something readers would never know from your work?
We have some truly awesome co-hosts today!
Pat Garcia, J.Q. Rose, Olga Godim, and Natalie Aguirre!
I’m not sure this qualifies as a secret, but I haven’t told anyone about it before now, so maybe it is. Of course, once I’ve published this post, poof goes the secret part. Anyway, here it is.
I’m trying my darnedest to keep writing and stay sane just like everybody else. It’s not easy to write books at any time, at least not for me. But then the heavy lifting called promotion starts, doesn’t it? I’ve been so close to stopping so many times, especially these last two years. Just when I have my fingers hovering over the keys to delete my accounts and shut down all my social media, I get a bit of encouragement from other writers and even some of my readers. So another day passes and I write a few more words, and then the First Wednesday comes…Well you can see where I’m going.
What I’ve discovered is that when I lend a hand to other authors it lifts me out of the doldrum, so I’ve been racking my brain to think of other ways I can help besides buy, read, and review books. I decided more exposure is always good, so I sent out a few emails, announcing an offer to authors on my EMAIL CONNECT. Several responded to my question: “What are you doing this shelter-in place fiasco?” Here’s what some of them sent to me:
This modern day shape-shifting tale is available on AMAZON. Buy yours today.
Sandra Cox says, “I garden. It sustains me and my flowers feed my spirit.”
This romantic story is a Free Book on AMAZON Get your free copy today.
Elizabeth Seckman wrote, “My stay sane strategy? When life gets tough, it’s best to stay busy. I made myself a mini bucket list of all the things I could do while quarantined. From cleaning out my closets to keeping a journal about this bizarre turn of life events, there is more on my list than I could ever finish, so no time to worry.”
Get your copy of this Cozy Mystery on AMAZON
Rebecca Douglass sent this: “I’m spending more time than ever exercising, which is good (but getting more challenging as it’s starting to get hot here). One average, close to 2 hours/day. Finding and completing little projects help me cope, but the best thing is when we manage to lure our sons out of their rooms and enjoy some actual family conversations!
It’s not patience I’ve run out of—it’s focus. Trying hard to recover some and get on with those edits, but it’s hard. It’s always hard, but it’s harder this time.”
Buy this Fantasy/Mystery on Smashwords.
J. Lenni Dorner: “I am surviving the quarantine by focusing on what l CAN do. I’ve dealt with impossible situations before, so it isn’t having the same impact on me that it is on my spouse and friends. The most challenging part is saying good-bye to those I’ve lost during and because of this (two so far, another not looking good, and some who I can’t get a hold of so I don’t know.)”
This Detective Quaid Mystery is available at Amazon, Barnes & Nobel, and Smashwords. Get your next book in the series now!
Yolanda Renee says, “As an introvert, isolation isn’t terribly hard. I’ve always enjoyed my alone time. However, watching the daily death count and not being able to visit my sons is heartbreaking. Still, I’ve followed through on my goals. It’s spring, so reorganizing and redecorating has kept me busy. Launching my latest book, writing the next one, and working on several short stories have kept me busy. But for some reason, I also read every piece of mail, even the junk mail, and I have a tendency to cry at the drop of a hat.
As I watch the beachgoers get their party on, I wonder what hotspot they’ve escaped from. So, I avoid crowds and wear my mask in the elevator when going to the laundry room.
My deepest desire is to hug my boys.
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The newest IWSG Anthology is here. If you like to meet the authors, visit their WEBSITE to see who they are and what their stories are about.
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Free on Email Connect
If you’d like to join other writers and readers on my email list, I’d love to have you there. I need more people in my life who like to write, read, and share information. I try to include about something of interest and ( I hope) value in each email. And there’s some free stuff once in a while. Right now you can read this short piece of horror when you sign on. Only my followers get copies because I’ve never sent it out for publication. My next “issue” is going to have something I think is exciting for any Indie writer.
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Quote of the Month: “It seems impossible until it’s done.” Nelson Mandela
I think of this quote each day that start out to do my 4 mile walk. It has helped me reach Day 75 and Mile 280 as of today.
May 13, 2020
Day of Reckoning!
Day of Reckoning sounds ominious, doesn’t it, especially during these times. Well perhaps that’s what this new book from my friend Kai Strand has in store for her readers–a bit of fear inducing, scintillating reading.
Day of Reckoning by Kai Strand (+ Giveaway)
I’m pleased to be participating in author Kai Strand’s Blog Tour today for her latest release, DAY OF RECKONING, the beginning of her Concord Chronicles series.
The author is offering an awesome tour-wide giveaway. More information on the giveaway is listed below.
DAY OF RECKONING
by Kai Strand
* Series: Concord Chronicles (Book 1)
* Paperback: 289 pages
* Publisher: Independently published
* Language: English
* ISBN-10: 1690603372
* ISBN-13: 978-1690603375
Not only does twelve-year-old Terra learn she’s a Nature’s Spirit destined to serve the peaceful underground city of Concord, but she also finds she is named in a prophecy as the only one who can thwart the leader of the death tribe.
The Trepidus are the death janitors of the Underworld. They’re responsible for the termination and cleanup of Concord’s beings. When their leader, Blanco, learns Terra is the one who can derail his day of reckoning, he does everything he can to get rid of her. Including, dispatch a “Bringer” to complete the ultimate of death janitor duties.
Not only does Terra want to stay alive, but she hopes to complete her training and discover her Spirit talents too. So, Frank, a Spirit of Security, is assigned to protect her. Together, they undertake a secret investigation of how to defeat Blanco. But with the future of Concord and Terra’s very own life at stake, will they find the answer in time?
DAY OF RECKONING
can be purchased at the following sites:
Amazon
|
Barnes and Noble
|
iBooks
|
Kobo
For those who aren’t familiar with the author, here’s a bit of background on her.
Award-winning Kai Strand, author of the action-packed Super Villain Academy series, is often found exploring hiking trails and snapping pictures of waterfalls in her Oregon hometown.
Mother of four, Kai uses her life experiences to connect with young readers. With middle grade works such as Save the Lemmings, The Weaver Tale series, and Day of Reckoning, and emotional YA adventures like Finding Thor, I Am Me, and Worth the Effort, Kai has written compelling stories that tweens, teens, and their parents love.
Kai has given numerous presentations throughout Oregon about her work and the writing process. She loves interacting with teens and gaining their insight on their latest reads as well as what they would like to see in future stories.
To find out more about Kai, please visit www.kaistrand.com.
Mailing List | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Amazon |
GIVEAWAY DETAILS:
Author Kai Strand is giving away four $5 Amazon Gift Cards and one lucky winner will receive a digital copy of DAY OF RECKONING along with a $15 Amazon Gift Card
To enter the giveaway, just click on the Rafflecopter widget below and follow the instructions. The widget may take a few seconds to load so please be patient. If the widget doesn’t show up, just click HERE and you’ll be directed to the widget.
Thanks for stopping by and be sure to follow Kai on her week-long tour HERE. You never know what you might find out. What do you think about a 12-year-old protagonist? Do you see how she could grow and develop over a series?
May 6, 2020
When It’s Wednesday, It’s IWSG Time
Join Us Now
It’s that time again, the #IWSG day. Here’s where you can share those doubts or triumphs. This group is all about connecting, and thanks to the stealthy and clever Ninja Captain Alex Cavanaugh, we have this space every month.
May 6 Question: do you have any rituals that you use when you need help getting into the ZONE? Care to share?
The question is as always optional.
The awesome co-hosts for the May 6 posting of the IWSG are Feather Stone, Beverly Stowe McClure, Mary Aalgaard, Kim Lajevardi, and Chemist Ken!
The only thing closest to a ritual I have for times like these is to start walking. I find that if I get up from my desk and take off on a trail or along a beach, I soon find a way to write what I have in my mind. These past weeks I’ve been out of the ZONE a great deal, so I’ve covered a lot of territory. If you’ve seen my Facebook posts, you’ll know I set a challenge of 4 miles a day. I started on March 17 and as of yesterday (day 50) I’ve logged 200 miles. That’s such a nice round figure, and I’m thinking I could be almost half way to LA if only I’d headed straight that direction. Of course, I don’t want to go to LA, so it’s probably better that my route wasn’t just south and instead took me to a lot of different places.
This highway is usually clogged with traffic. In March I saw something I never thought I’d see. An empty highway.
My May Book Report
So many books this month and all so good.
Jemi Frasier’s Dancing with Dementia was excellent. I felt as if I had a book I could really use if I had to face the challenges of caring for someone with dementia. My REVIEW.
Buy on Amazon
Sandra Cox’s newest book sounds like something I’d like to read. I need to find out about that sexy deputy. Here’s how Sandra describes Mateo’s Law:
A modern day, shape-shifting sheriff.
He’s the sheriff of a sparsely populated county in Montana. His blood brother and childhood best friend is Chief of Police on the Blackfoot Reservation, but they no longer speak. His deputy is a southern transplant with the body of a high-priced call girl, a voice of honey and a mouth of a trucker. And if that’s not enough, he’s got a secret that would stun those that know him best. Other than that, it’s business as usual for Sheriff Mateo Grey.
I mentioned David Powers King’s new book last month, but have just purchased it and wanted to show off his cover. His tagline is: A princess. A dragon. Their quest.
And another story’s out by Beverly Stowe McClure!
Gabe never asked for an angel…
Gabe Montana’s clumsy. He’s overweight, and he’s dyslexic. Worse yet, the bullies make his fifteen-year-old life even more miserable—so miserable he wants to die. My REVIEW
Will the third ghost be found before fires take more lives? Can everyone be warned before Pompeii is buried again? What happens if a blizzard traps a family in East Germany? Will the Firebird help Soviet sisters outwit evil during WWII? And sneaking off to see the first aeroplane – what could go wrong?
Ten authors explore the past, sending their young protagonists on harrowing adventures. Featuring the talents of Yvonne Ventresca, Katharina Gerlach, Roland Clarke, Sherry Ellis, Rebecca M. Douglass, Bish Denham, Charles Kowalski, Louise MacBeath Barbour, Beth Anderson Schuck, and L.T. Ward.
Hand-picked by a panel of agents, authors, and editors, these ten tales will take readers on a voyage of wonder into history. Get ready for an exciting ride!
If you’d like to know more about the judges and the process for choosing stories for these IWSG Anthologies, HERE is where you can find that information.
Quote of the Month:“Now I see the secret of making the best person: it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.” – Walt Whitman
April 1, 2020
A Very Different First Wednesday
ARE YOU HERE FOR THE #YASH? YOU’LL FIND IT HERE!
Join Us Today
The IWSG’s focus is on our writers. Each month, from all over the globe, we are a united group sharing our insecurities, our troubles, and our pain. So, in this time when our world is in crisis with the covid-19 pandemic, our optional question this month is: how are things in your world?
The co-hosts for the April 1 posting of the IWSG are Diane Burton, JH Moncrieff, Anna @ Emaginette, Karen @ Reprobate Typewriter, Erika Beebe, and Lisa Buie-Collard! Be sure to visit and thank them for stepping up and co-hosting today.
This highway is usually bumper to bumper. Deer saunter across safely now.
My answer to this question is quiet. I’ve been walking every day at least 4 to 5 miles since the governor asked us to self-isolate. Self-isolating is easy because there are so few people out, I’m able to find deserted streets and trails everywhere. When I do meet people, we keep our distance, but manage a good morning and a smile. What I love seeing are the families walking together. Maybe they did this before, but maybe this is a new family activity and I applaud that. I know this virus has changed my life pattern, and I’m finding I really love my walks. I’ve been posting about them on. Facebook and once in a while Instagram since I started 15 days. And as of today, I’ve logged 64 miles. Maybe I don’t need a gym?
This is a busy month online at least. I’ll be doing the #YASH (Young Adult Scavenger Hunt) again with 80 other authors. This year I’m on the BLUE TEAM. I like this hop because I have a chance to meet other authors and find out something “Exclusive” about them or their books. I even like to do the HUNT. It started yesterday and will end April 5 at 12 P.M. PDT. If you like FREE BOOKS and you need some DISTRACTION during these isolating days, join us HERE.
Like many of you, I’ve been reading even more than usual. I finished Margaret Atwood’s Testaments, and liked it even more than her Handmaid’s Tale. Maybe I just like to see perverted religious cults crumble. I also read an oldie Ballad of the Sad Cafe and other Short Stories by Carson McCullers. I didn’t care much for the other stories in the collection, but Ballad will stick with me for some time. It has all the human foibles that make fascinating characters as well as love, betrayal, loneliness, and abandonment. Steph Cha’s Your House Will Pay is a dynamite story told from two points of view, both American born, but from different cultures-one Korean and one Black. The setting is L.A. after the Watts Riots. Highly charged drama that leaves you wondering if forgiveness is ever possible. Right now I’m reading Roland Yeoman’s newest book, French Quarter Requiem (Dark Hollywood). Roland’s living up to his reputation for capturing some of Hollywood’s nobility when the last thing they are is noble. Of course, there’s a New Orleans haunted mansion, ghosts, and Turkish demons as well. Give it a read and a review! David P. King has a new book out today. The Dragon’s Heart: A LaVondian Fairytale is out today April 1st! You can check it out (Amazon and Goodreads). It’s a clean fantasy, excellent for young readers and for anyone who may be in the mood for a fairy tale adventure. Another book to add to your TBR list.
Don’t forget there’s a new ANTHOLOGY CONTEST coming soon from IWSG. The genre is Sci-Fi, and take a look at the judges who will read your material:Dan Koboldt, author and #SFFpit founder, Lynda Young, author, Damien Larkin, author, Julie Gwinn, agent, The Seymour Agency, David Powers King, author, Ion Newcombe, editor and publisher
Quote of the Month: “Nothing makes me more nervous than people who say, ‘It can’t happen here.’ Anything can happen anywhere, given the right circumstances. Margaret Atwood.
March 31, 2020
It’s YA Scavenger Hunt Time Again!
It’s that time again. Welcome to YA Scavenger Hunt!
If you’re visiting for the first time let me introduce myself. I’ll be brief with some short facts my friends kid me about: 1) I’m happiest digging in my garden. 2) I iron my sheets. ( I hear the laughing, so just stop!) But don’t stop reading. There’s a lot to come.
This year I’m on the BLUE TEAM. Keep reading to discover some EXCLUSIVE CONTENT, FREE BOOKS, an AMAZING YA AUTHOR, and my SECRET NUMBER. And if you haven’t already joined me on my website, you can get an instant gift by signing up HERE.
This bi-annual contest was first organized by author Colleen Houck. Remember to play fast: this contest (and all the exclusive bonus material) will only be online for 120 hours! MARCH 31, 12:00 P.M. -APRIL 5, 12:00 P.M.
SCAVENGER HUNT PUZZLE
(how to win)
DIRECTIONS: Below, you’ll notice that I’ve listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on the COLOR team, and then add them up!
ENTRY FORM: Once you’ve added up all the numbers, make sure you fill out the form HERE to officially quality for the grand prize. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.
RULES: Open internationally, anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian’s permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by DATE, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.
Go to the YA Scavenger Hunt page to find out all about the hunt. There are four contests going on simultaneously, and you can enter one or all! Check out the RED, GOLD, PURPLE as well as the rest of the BLUE team, which has some spectacular authors. Look at these covers. But don’t stop reading. You haven’t found out all that’s in store yet.
TODAY I HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF HOSTING
Sarah K.L. Wilson
USA Today bestselling author, Sarah K. L. Wilson loves spinning a yarn and if it paints a magical new world, twists something old into something reborn, or makes your heart pound with excitement … all the better!
Here’s what’s awaiting you when you read FAE HUNTER.
I was born to hunt. I was born to protect.
But this is the one creature I wasn’t trained to kill.
The fae are sneaking into our little town. They stole my sister. They stole my sight. And now they’re going to steal everything else … unless I stop them. Isn’t that so charming?
I don’t care that they’re pretty. I don’t care that to them lies are truth, power is sustenance, and every action ripples into violence. I’m not going to let their glamor fool me. I’m going to use it to fuel me as I bring them down.
But the town is turning against me, and I’m losing allies one by one. I need a secret weapon to use against them and I need to be brave enough to use it … whatever the cost.
Can one mortal girl stop all of the Faewald?
I’m going to have to try.
You can connect with Sarah and her books here:
When you land on her page, she’ll be giving away a free book.
Keep Hunting!
And now, here’s a chance for you to get two of my books with one entry. DOUBLE NEGATIVE (chosen in the top 10 STUNNING YA BOOKS) and NOT GUILTY (my most recent novel).
Oh, and I almost forgot, I have one more “fun” fact about me that I left out in the beginning. 3) I seldom eat desserts. So now you know 3 things about me that you can taunt me with. Just don’t laugh too loudly!
To keep going on your quest, you need to check out the next author and add her secret number! Amalie Howard. And please let me know in your comments what you think of this hunt.
