T.L. Gray's Blog, page 67

Me Time!

Don't forget to take time for yourself.  What we do, accomplish and inspire comes from what is already inside.If you don't take time to replenish yourself, you won't have anything to give.Do something for yourself today.Have some "Me" time.

Zip-Lining – Facing Fears

Well, I did it!  I also have the tee-shirt to go along with my new accomplishment.  What did I do?  Well, I faced one of my greatest fears, pushed my muscles to their limit, and took to the tree tops this weekend.  My husband and I went zip-lining at the historic Banning Mills in Whitesburg, Georgia.  We conquered the Screaming Eagle with only limited outbursts of panic.  Our adventure started with a treacherous walk across a wood-slated cable bridge.  At first it seemed easy, until I got about ten steps onto that wobbly, springy bridge.  That’s ten steps past the point of no return.  It only took ten steps for my eyes to see what lay below my feet, and I’m not talking about small wooden slats.  I saw tree tops, people!  That’s a sight that’s supposed to be above me – not beneath me.  That was the point when my legs decided to turn to jelly and my fingers clinched into death grips.  However, with shaky legs and a determination of steel, I concentrated on what lay in front of me, not below me.  I did really well, until I got to the last ten steps, the point where the cabled bridge was well into its upward climb, just past the point of realization that I didn’t have the strength to pull myself forward any longer.   My legs shook, my hands sweated bullets, and my breathing came in small gasps.  However, my mind remained calm, cool and collected.  When my left leg refused to move from the slat behind me, I calmly (without screaming my head off) called to one of the cute, young instructors for aid.  “I can’t seem to move,” I said.  He smiled at me and with a modicum of speed, grabbed one of the many ropes attached to my body and gave me a gentle nudge forward.  With his help, I scaled the last ten steps and pulled myself onto the tree top platform, and securely transferred my two safety lines. That was the first of many huge sighs of relief.  I didn’t even bother to look at the other side of the platform, the side where I knew I was about to take my first plunge into zip line history.  Needless to say, NO ONE else had any trouble crossing the cable bridge, including my husband.  At least he was smart enough NOT to say anything about it while we were so high in the air and standing on the edge of a rail-less platform.
 My first plunge was so exciting I forgot to scream.  I had my left hand securely on top of the ‘zip-doo hickey’, and my right hand clenched tightly around the ‘Oh Crap’ rope that connected my body to the line.  I stepped forward, leapt off the platform, pulled my knees up and went zipping wide open through the air. I didn’t bother to look down.  I kept my eyes on the platform in front of me and the instructor waving signals.  I was going great until he started waving his hands in front of him, shouting for me to ‘brake’, but instead of moving my hand from the “Oh Crap” line and cupping it around the cable behind me to slow my descent, I went blank.  I wasn’t about to let go of the “Oh Crap” line, so I extended my feet forward and smashed right into the instructor waiting for me on the platform.  He mentioned something about needing to obey the signals, but I only vaguely heard his comments.  Cognitive thinking hadn’t returned to me by this point.  However, it finally sunk into my brain by the time I was standing on the edge of the next platform, waiting to jump onto my next zip line, so I repeated to myself a reminder to ‘brake’. 
 The next jump went smoothly.  I was able to move my hand from the ‘Oh Crap’ line and cup it into a nice, slow brake.   By this time, my fear of falling abated and I felt secure in the zip lines that held me.  But feeling safe and sound on the treetop platforms was another story altogether.  Many times I found my feet on the very edge of the crowded dais.  I knew my safety cables were locked in and would keep me from crashing hundreds of feet to the ground, but there was no guarantee I couldn’t fall off the edge of the platform.  My mind, with its vastly gigantic imagination, kept playing scenarios of me falling, ropes snapping tight and my head crashing into a tree trunk, ending with me dangling upside down and no one able to pull me back up.  I even imagined one scene where a mechanical crane, or one of those long fire-engine ladders, had to be used to get me down.  So, I learned to get real intimate with my tree-top neighbors.  I’m just so glad I had used plenty of deodorant and had on a nice, fruity perfume.  I’m also very thankful my treetop neighbors were just as considerate. Everyone smelled nice.
The rest of the journey went off without a hitch.  I really, really enjoyed myself and walked around with an adrenaline high for a few hours afterwards. My husband seemed to have a great time, too, and I’m glad he was there to share this adventure with me.  It’s another item checked off my bucket list, but something I hope I get to do again really soon.  I love conquering my fears, and heights are at the top of that list. I know I’m still afraid, but I’m not afraid to face my fears, whether it is heights or failure.  I refuse to let either conquer me.  Till next time,~T.L. Gray  

Know Your Strengths

I love the truth, but most of all I love those who are willing, and are brave enough, to tell the truth.  It would be great if ALL of us could do EVERYTHING.  But we can’t.  We are not God.  We are human and infallible; we have limitations.  However, we ALL have the potential to be heroes in our own quests.  Too many people waste their lives chasing the wrong dreams, wanting the happiness, love, success, career, family or money that someone else has received, and then feeling like a failure when they don’t achieve the same things as their neighbor. Most often – we want what they have, but we’re not willing to do what they did to get it. We live in a society that encourages success without effort.  Yet, each of us has within us, the potential for true greatness. 
I met a man recently, who has spent over forty years of his life chasing the dream of becoming a knight in shining armor, believing that slaying dragons was the only way to be a hero.  He traveled from town to town, searching for damsels to save, proclaiming his greatness while looking for the perfect quest to prove it.  However, in the meantime, he has not trained, not taken the time to practice his skills with a sword, or spent the time to train his horse for battle.  He has two left feet and is severely near-sighted.  He has not researched or studied the habits of his enemy -the dragon, nor has he bothered to procure a suit of armor.  He is a prince of a man, and travels with those who tell him only what he wants to hear, and so he believes himself to be what he is not.  However, there is another side of this man that the townsfolk also see – a man with a gentle heart, who is generous and kind.  He is often delayed in his pursuit toward heroism because he constantly stops, and with his wealth, helps those in need along the way.  In his wake, he has left a long line of encouragement, gratitude and goodness. Yet he sees none of it, only his failure to be the Knight of his dreams.  
The sad point of this story: Not everyone is born to be a dragon slayer, and it’s a shame this man must suffer because no one cared enough to tell him the truth.  This prince will probably die the first moment he faces a dragon, trying to live up to unrealistic expectations, but it will be the world that loses the most – it will lose a gentle, caring heart. We need both dragon slayers and missionaries (conservatives & liberals, soldiers & doctors, gatherers & givers). One is not more important than the other (though both often believe they are), but we need them to be what they were meant to be, or its all vanity.
Examine yourself. Know your strengths.  Most of all – don’t wait on someone else to tell you the truth – discover it on your own. Look around and behind you – what impact have you made? What kind of path have you left in your wake?  More than likely, no one has the guts to tell you the truth, anyway. And, if you’re self-deceived (which is very possible), you’re blind to the truth. Don’t waste your life – live it.
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

The Story of Our Lives

Oh, how I long for the days of getting lost in the pages of a great adventure, where not only my mind, but my heart, soars for an honorable quest.  Every day I learn more and more why I love fantasy and the rise of a reluctant hero.  As I look around me, I see a world full of excuses; people blaming someone or something else for their own weaknesses and failures; too many pessimists lying daily by the gates and refusing to stand and carry their mats.

Where are the moral quests and those with the fortitude and integrity to face their demons in the midst of their fears, and rise above them? 

Where are the dreamers who dare to hope and do what they must to rise above their situations? 

Who has the courage to rise out of the blight and reach toward the heavens and change their stars?

There has, and will always be, class warfare.  Money and prestige isn't what makes the difference - but the heart. The heart determines whether we are heroes or villains.   It's the compassion and determination that can take a poor farmer and turn him into a knight in shining armor, or a make a king into a tyrant, or gives courage to a valiant prince to lay his life on the line for his kingdom, or turn a beggar into a rapist or thief. Yet, the daily squabble continues over who has and who has not, and I search the faces for a reluctant hero to rise from the masses.  

If fantasy has taught me anything, it's this:  The sword is in my own hand.  It matters not who I am, what I have, or where I'm from - only who I want to be, what I want to achieve and where I'm going.  I am my own hero - and I control my own adventure - I determine what kind of story I will live.  No one else has that power over me.   

What about you?  Which character are you?

Though Sometimes ...Always.

Though sometimes I'm alone, I'm never lonely.  My imagination is always with me. 
Though sometimes I'm scared, I'm never afraid.  My faith is always with me.
Though sometimes I'm down, I'm never out.  My hope is always with me.
Though sometimes I'm angry, I'm never mad.  My peace is always with me.
Though sometimes I sin, I'm never condemned.  My Redeemer is always with me.

What'cha doin'?

If you're reading this blog, I'll forgive you.  But, as soon as you reach the bottom, send a comment and then exit the internet all together  - and go WRITE.

It doesn't matter what you write, just write something.  Exercise your imagination.  Fire up your creativity.  Manipulate the skills you've obtained and make a Masterpiece.

Go on, do it.

Scroll down to the bottom and hit the "comment" mark, but keep it short and sweet.

I'm waiting.

I'm watching.

GO!

Booktastic Reviews: Milledgeville Misfit

Here is another 5-star review of Milledgeville Misfit.Please stop by and Visit Rachael at Booktastic Reviews! Monday, 14 May 2012Author: T.L. Gray
Edition: Vabella Paperback
Published: January 31st 2012
Pages: 168
Rating: See below review.

Fourteen-year old Juniper "Junebug" Summerville loses her parents and her ability to talk in a car accident. Against her silent protests, she is sent to live in a remote swampland infamous for its ghosts, federal prison and insane asylum.

As Junebug struggles with her emotional scars, she begins to heal with help from six other orphans at Dearborn, a once famous Milledgeville Plantation. Just as she begins to enjoy the peace she’s long desired, she finds herself in a fight for her sanity when she stumbles upon a tear in the fabric that separates the possible from the impossible, and she must choose which to believe.

Damnit! How am I ever going to give this book the justice it deserves?! Milledgeville Misfit, put quite simply, is amazing. Beautifully written, emotional, thought-provoking... to be perfectly honest, I think I need to install a whole new rating system just for this book!

Please excuse me if I sound a bit gushy, but it's just that I absolutely loved this book! It was so unbelievably sweet how all of the orphans had such a connection with each other. I felt like I was experiencing something even more powerful than the love of a real family - something deeper that only a group of children can form in the absence of parents. I'm really not kidding when I say that this book will tug at your heartstrings.

Since, unintentionally, I've already got straight into the characters, I suppose I will tell you a little bit more about Junebug and her "family" as she puts it. First, Junebug. Ever since the car crash that left her parents dead and her without a voice, Junebug has felt like a part of her died along with them. That is, until she finds friendship in a group of orphans at Dearborn. I really don't want to go into too much because I'll probably end up revealing spoilers but I'll definitely tell you that this book is one of a kind and not to be missed. Anyway, back to Junebug. To me, I could never have thought of a more perfect main character. I felt almost privileged to watch her recovery and the development she goes through. I seriously don't think I can pick a main character, I just loved all of the six orphans and Junebug the same! I'd love to do nothing more than to talk about each of them but for now I will agree to talking about just the one. Abby. Little Abby is the youngest of them all and she practically had me hugging her through the pages. She was just so sweet and I could picture her so clearly. Well, come to think of it, I could picture them all so clearly.

Let me just leave it at the characters were all wonderful. Now on to other things. Gray has an absolutely beautiful writing style and she portrayed everything perfectly through Junebug's eyes - I really felt that involved in the story! I also loved how she managed to wrap up everything. The ending was spot-on, not to mention emotional! She also has a great way of threading mystery and keeping the reader hanging by a thread.

Overall I absolutely adored Milledgeville Misfit. I feel like the book really spoke to me and I think I will remember it for years to come. It has very rightfully found a spot on my favourite-books-of-all-time bookshelf! With a beautiful writing style, great characters, an unusual mystery and a story that will have you smiling sweetly and then almost in tears, this book is definitely one I recommend to all!

Milledgeville Misfit is a young adult novel that deals with grief and healing, and has an ending that leaves the reader with the choice of what to believe.


I'd like to express my thanks to Vabella Publishing and T.L. Gray for giving me a complimentary copy of this book and to Jessica at Booked Up! for hosting the giveaway! :D

Happy Reading,
Rachel xoxo

Character Development

At the end of your story, no matter whether fiction or non-fiction, did your characters go through a transformation?  I’m not talking about a temporary change, but a transition – a passage from one state, place, stage or form to another?  Or are they the same as they started?
If not, don’t worry you’re not alone.  However, that really makes for a poor character and a poor writer. In fiction, we get to make up ‘most’ of the universe in which our characters live, but without development, the characters will remain one-dimensional and risk being un-relatable.  Are you the same person you were 5, 10, 15 or more years ago?  I do know that for some people, that answer will be yes, but for the majority of us, it will be no.
You couldn’t pay me enough to be 15, 20, 25¸or 30 years old again.  I felt way too much on my road to self-identification.   I could never go back to the state where every feeling, every decision, every hope and every fear was magnified to the millionth degree.  Perhaps it’s because I’m older, but I choose to no longer live in the extremes.  I don’t get carried awayin the excitement of my hopes, but I also don’t fall apart under the mountain of my fears. 
I still believe that all things are possible, but I don’t let my hope in those things define me.  I don’t feel like I have to put everything on the line to make the dream possible.  I already believe the dream is possible.  As long as I keep it alive, it will happen in its own time; at its own pace.  I quit trying to control it – to force it to happen.  I learned that all my efforts didn’t change anything – just my stress level.  I also don’t feel I have to save the world from itself.  I’m not God.  It’s not my job.  I just concentrate on me, and let the rest of the world take care of its’ self.  Again – I learnedthat all my efforts didn’t change anything – just my stress level.  I can’t change anyone else but me.   I used to try, but I discovered it was useless. They have to want to change for themselves.  I still believe there’s evil in the world, but I don’t allow my fear to control me.  I’ve learned to be sensible and take rational precautions, but I can’t guard against tragedy.  While I don’t let my hope move me ahead too quickly (making choices based on my feelings), I don’t allow my fear to stop me.  If you knew me 10 years ago, you wouldn’t recognize the person I am today.  My character developed. 
So, as you consider characters in your book, ask yourself a few simple questions – did my characters learn anything, did they change their hearts and minds about something, did they develop?  Or are they the same from Prologue to Epilogue?  
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

The Checklist

I love lists.  It not only gives me a sense of accomplishment to see those little boxes get checked off, but it fills my coffers full of completed achievements.  I have come across in my life way too many people who start something, but never finish.  I can’t think of nothing worse in the world.  I don’t want to imagine all those un-finished stories, those un-completed projects, those un-fulfilled dreams.  Being incomplete helps NO ONE.
This morning, I completed my first book review for West Georgia Living Magazine.  Last night, I completed the final edits for The Blood of Cain 2nd Edition.
That’s two major projects on my list with a big, fat check mark.  It makes me smile.  Yes, I still have a lot of more empty boxes below them, which I will dive right into today, and give all I can to get them done.  Every day is a new opportunity to get a little bit more accomplished, yet doing nothing - results in nothing.   
What will you accomplish today?
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

Rejection

RejectionThe definition means – (1) to refuse or accept, consider, use or submit to (2) to refuse to hear, receive, or admit: repel (3) to rebuff or without love from (4) to throw out esp. as useless or unsatisfactory (5) to subject to the immunological process of sloughing off (foreign tissue). 
That’s all well and good until it is experienced first-hand, especially when it comes to the heart, and even more when it comes from those who are supposed to love us.    
I’ve always heard that there are two constants, God’s love and a mother’s love; that those are two givens, and the two most taken for granted.  While I agree with the taking for granted part, I only half agree with the first part.  I do think God’s love is constant and never-changing, but I’ve experienced firsthand that a mother’s love doesn’t come unconditionally.  I’ve also heard it stated that a mother’s love is natural, an affection given at the time of birth.  Turn on your news and you’ll discover that isn’t true at all.  Just because a woman gives birth to a child, doesn’t mean she becomes naturally endowed with a mother’s love.  Actually, I don’t think love is natural at all.  Emotions are natural, but love – love is supernatural.  However, this article isn’t about love, but about rejection.  
I’ve observed countless of hurting people in this world, and one of the main common denominators to their pain is rejection – either from a parent, a child, a spouse, a sibling or a friend.  I’ve known my share of rejection, a bit from every category, yet I don’t allow that rejection to define me, or cause me to give up on my life.  I’ve found strength in the most uncommon of places – in the acceptance of me.    My value, my worth, my beauty, my confidence and my assurance doesn’t come from the acceptance or rejection of anyone else, but myself.  If it came from anyone else, I’d already be a failure, because I’ve received more rejection in my life than acceptance, especially from those who are supposed to ‘naturally’ love and accept me.  
This is the main reason why I love the Harry Potter series.  It’s not for the magic, the adventure or even the battle of good vs. evil, but simply because it’s an example of a boy who grew up rejected and unloved,  but had enough character and strength to choose to love in return, instead of allowing that rejection to turn him into a victim.  I found hope in Harry.  He truly was the ‘boy who lived’, because he LIVED – every moment and every day with a heart wide open; with a heart that had been battered, bruised and abandoned.  It was love that protected him in the end – not the love others had for him, but the love he had for others.  Harry rose above rejection, and perhaps we can too.
There was another who chose to love after being rejected and despised.  Yet, he gave his life for us all - Jesus. 
Till next time,~T.L. Gray