Barbara Edwards's Blog, page 16
July 17, 2014
Ocean Between by my guest Lynda Coker from Barbara Edwards
Please welcome my guest Lynda J. Coker.
Lynda Coker
Hi Lynda,
Welcome to Barbara Edwards Comments
I’m sure you’ve been asked lots of questions about your career and I’ve indulged my curiosity.
Tell me why you wrote “THE OCEAN BETWEEN”.
Thank you for having me as your guest today, Barbara. It’s a pleasure to visit with you and your readers.
Your question is one I’ve asked myself several times, not only about THE
Ocean Between
OCEAN BETWEEN, but about each story that I’ve written. The premise for The Ocean Between is about whether or not two people in love can overcome the challenge of their differing cultures, philosophies, and ideologies to form a successful and happy relationship. And in the case of the story’s heroine, Victoria Ballard, it’s about finding the strength to forgive the somewhat unforgivable actions of the hero, Prince Rashid Davar. In real life, love is never enough by itself, in fact, it’s a rather week emotion if devoid of trust, commitment, loyalty, patience, and self-sacrifice. I wanted to explore such a love story centered around my favorite hero-type, a desert sheik with an alpha male personality.
You’re multi-published. Which of your heroes is your favorite and why?
Once conceived, Prince Rashid Davar of THE OCEAN BETWEEN, completely stole my heart. As a writer, he challenged me at every turn, never entirely bending to my will on any issue. In fact, early on, he often took control, insisting that I write according to his wishes. Like every alpha-male personality, he’s a natural leader/commander with a heart of gold and a stubborn streak guaranteed to drive any female crazy. Exotic and irresistible, once we’d met, there was no turning back. I had to write his story. But just to prove to him that I wasn’t a complete wimp, I gave him the challenge of his life in the form of Victoria Ballard. He wasn’t always perfect, certainly not always a gentleman, but he did prove to be redeemable, at least in Victoria’s heart. Personally, I’m still deciding…
How do you keep writing when the ideas flow slowly?
I stop writing and start day-dreaming, playing the what if game. I think about where I’m stuck in the story and start questioning every conceivable plot change, personality twist, motive, conflict, and resolution. In playing the game, I guess you could say that I really go off the deep end… What I mean is, I reach for the extreme, fanatical, impossible, or crazy answers. None of those ever end up in my stories, but they serve as springboards to new ideas and inspiration.
Bio:
I enjoy so many things about life, especially relationships of the heart. Family, friends, and a brotherhood that comes from shared beliefs and goals are just a few of the gifts in my life. Writing Sweet Romance gives me the chance to peel back the layers that obscure the emotion we call love, revealing the complexities with each beat of the heart.
Blog Link:
Between The Pages – http://betweenthelinesandmore.blogspot.com
Buy Links:
The Wild Rose Press – http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=243_89_99&products_id=3616
Excerpt:
Victoria half sat, half lay on the limousine’s passenger seat. The car’s tinted windows shut out all but the brightest lights, plunging her and the devil beside her into deep shadow.
She wanted to straighten herself but the entangling robe imprisoned her better than a rope. The prospect of drawing his attention gave her reason to stay still. How did one deal with a psychopath, a silver bullet? Perhaps a stake through the heart? Not possessing either, her wits would have to suffice.
She waited and watched him, slowing her breathing to quiet its sound. His familiar spicy scent now mingled alarmingly with the pungent odor of hot, angry male. One who had just carried her down two flights of stairs and through a block of hallways. His scent was no longer exotic, but earthy, raw, dangerous.
The only parts of him clearly visible were his hands. Fisted, they rested on his legs. She was sure that whatever caused them to tremble wasn’t fear. He hadn’t stirred or spoken since the car sped away from the Civic Center.
An involuntary gasp escaped her throat when he moved forward and switched on the dome light. Angling his head, he gave her a pitiless glare. Then, locking her eyes with his, he reached to activate the privacy window. The glass partition rose and so did her panic.
The silent authority in his eyes held hers captive. Just like the glow bugs she used to collect as a child. The ones she sealed in one of her mother’s crystal vases and set on her bedside table, leaving them to expend their last flash of brilliance in captivity. She had never thought the childish act cruel…until now.
He moved again, this time in her direction. She strained to get one arm free from the robe and looked in every direction for something she could use to defend herself. Nothing appeared. Exhausted, she lay sweating, trembling, and near tears.
Through all her struggles he had simply waited. Now, he reached for her. This, she thought, will be tomorrow’s headline. ‘Victoria Ballard strangled on her wedding night!’
Rashid grabbed both sides of her robe and yanked upwards, successfully untangling her body. Then his hands slid under each of her arms, lifting and positioning her against the back of the leather seat. The sound of tinkling bells caused his eyes to widen with renewed disgust.
His solid chest rose and fell in a short, hard rhythm. Leaning closer still, he invaded the last inch of space between them. When he ran the tip of his finger down her cheek and pushed a lock of hair from her face, her senses somersaulted as if she’d just propelled off a mountain backward. There was no up, down, or point of reference to stabilize her emotions, not until he spoke to her again, his voice deep and raspy.
“Though you may deserve otherwise, I have no intention of strangling you on our wedding night.”
How did he know what she had been thinking?
The ring tone on his cell phone almost splintered her sanity. Sliding back across the seat, he easily dismissed her and spoke with whoever was on the phone in complete calmness. Not one unsteady syllable passed his lips. For that, she both envied and despised him.
The Wild Rose Press – http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=243_89_99&products_id=3616
Thanks for being my guest, Lynda. I look forward to reading your book. I love the excerpt.
Barbara
Visit my website http://www.barbaraedwards.net for my excerpts, links and covers.
Filed under: My Favorite Books, writing Tagged: Barbara Edwards,, Lynda J. Coker, Ocean Between
June 16, 2014
At the Arctic Circle by Barbara Edwards
Are we going to the Arctic Circle today? Maybe. We’ve checked the weather reports and it is partly cloudy with a chance of thunderstorms this afternoon.
Dalton Highway
It’s a 200 mile drive. Not much distance on a normal day, but the road to Prudhoe Bay is not your normal road.
It’s made for trucks and the winter has damaged it. Heaves, mud, potholes and loose gravel are a few of the hazards. Trucks have the right-of-way always.
And you can’t drive to the Arctic Ocean. It is fenced off. You must take a bus and get security
clearance before you can go. That takes time and we didn’t know, so that part of the trip is out.
So we’ll drive up to the Dalton Highway and see what it looks like from there. How far we get depends on a number of factors.
Alaska Pipeline
The Alaskan pipeline is right outside town. It’s not like I pictured. It’s a shiny pipe about four feet wide on stilts. It doesn’t look controversial.
The Elliot highway is rough as the ocean. Up and down over frost heaves. The landscape is changing. Scrub pine, birch and alder crowd the road. Fewer and fewer mail boxes. The mountains are rounded but high. Not much traffic right now. I keep feeling like we’ve dropped into another space. It feels empty, not abandoned, but without human prescence.
There’s mosquitos swarming whenever we slow, but patches of snow remain along the road. And we’re not to the Dalton Highway yet.
Alaska
At the Dalton highway, the road is no longer paved. It is a mixture of gravel and clay that sticks to the vehicle with the poer of superglue. It is a mud brown, of course and we are covered with it.
The pipeline runs along the road or vise-versa. I stare at the stunted black spruce and then the 120,000 acre burn that occured two years ago. Cause by lightning, it jumped from place to place. The traffic is almost non-existent. Mostly big rigs and a few tour buses. I’m impressed by the bridge over the Yukon River made of wood. Heck, I’m impressed by the Yukon River. All those stories of prospectors and miners heading North repeat in my mind.
Arctic Circle
We stop at Finger Rock for a photo, then proceed.
The 200 miles takes us seven hours. With a posted speed limit of 50mph, we crept along at 35 mph because of the slick mud and potholes. Not a ride for the faint-hearted.
When we reach the Arctic Circle, Bill looks around “Is this it?” he asks. I take a couple photos and laugh.
Arctic Circle
There’s nothing but scrub and distant mountains. We debate starting the drive back, but Bill is tired. We are equipped to dry camp. And I don’t want him risking injury.
We’ll return tomorrow and spend a few hours removing the mud. Luckily, the campground has an area to wash the vehicles. We’re not the first to drive out here.
Arctic Circle
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska Tagged: Alaska pipeline, Arctic Circle, Barbara Edwards,, Dalton highway
June 14, 2014
Finding Fairbanks by Barbara Edwards
Fairbanks, AL
Heading into Fairbanks. We stopped at the nicest campground. The gift shop had tons of decently priced Alaskan articles and we did buy stuff for the boys.
My daughter, Theresa P.
Fairbanks, AK
Stark lived in Fairbanks and worked at the hospital.
Fairbanks, AK
The place is among white birches and Alder on the banks of the Sistern River. Beautiful country, although the pine trees are short- look like they grow on the tree-line. Lots of people live here but the houses aren’t visible from the highway. I count mailboxes at each road or drive and there are several at each
I’m feeling a little sad. Fairbanks is not the end of our journey, but it does signal the end of the leg north in Alaska. We are debating the next goal. Up to the Arctic Circle? Dawson? Too many options to choose from it seems.
I didn’t get into the history of Fairbanks. It was on the gold trail and a major stopping point. You’ll have fun looking up the details yourself.
The longer we’re here, the more I like it. Despite the tough winters with 40 degree below zero weather, I wish I’d know about it 20 years ago. I’d have moved here.
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska Tagged: AK, Barbara Edwards,, Fairbanks, Theresa Stark
June 7, 2014
Day at Denali by Barbara Edwards
Denali
Denali finally. We waited three days for the rain to clear before heading out this morning. It’s going to reach the 70s with a bright sunny sky. Denali is the Indian name for the region. Mt McKinley is 20,230 feet high and growing 34 of an inch each year.
I’m so excited. There is a photo turnoff and I get my first clear view of the mountains ahead. I can’t talk. My mouth is hanging open. Is that the Mountain? If not its huge anyway. Denali is the native Indian name for the region. Mt. McKinley is 20,230 feet high and growing 34 of an inch each year,
Denali
Signs warning of moose crossing the road are frequent. It is low, wet forest along here. Lots of yound birch and aspen.
The drive towards Denali is long. Soon the land belongs to the government. I’m disappointed because we see little wildlife. A few caribous are in the park, but the photos are too distant.
The road into the park is 80 miles long and only the first twenty drivable with a car. A bus must take you on a 12 hour ride back and forth. Hiking is the only real option to see the interior.
Denali
Bill and I have decided most of the trip has been fun. Some parts boring since neither of us can hike the trails. I have the binoculars for spotting animals. He’s had two knee replacements and doesn’t take chances. I get out of breath with exertion.
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska Tagged: Alaska, Barbara Edwards,, Denali
Impressed by Anchorage by Barbara Edwards
Anchorage AK
Somehow I managed to delete my post about leaving Whittier for Anchorage. What can I say—after several towns and many mountains it’s hard to remember details.
I am fascinated by the glaciers that appear along the road to Anchorage. And the surrounding mountains.
Anchorage, AK
The city is widely spread out and has all the amenities of every other large city. Our campground is on the edge and we can drive around easily. What to do is the question. The weather is lousy. Drizzly and cool, it sucks the warmth from my Florida bones.
Anchorage
Anchorage, AK
So we’re going to the zoo. I might not get another chance to see much of the local wildlife. I’ve found that a zoo is a great way to judge a city and this one is no exception. The place is beautiful with wide paths winding through trees and low scrub. Each animal looks healthy and well-cared-for even though most of them are here because they were injured in the wild and unable to return.
Wasilla
We want to see Denali and drive on, stopping in Wasilla. A fairly large town, it has five miles of stores and businesses on the main road. We camp here for three days of rain. No point going on until we can see Mt. Whitney instead of clouds.
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska, writing Tagged: Anchorage, Barbara Edwards,, Wasilla
June 2, 2014
A trip glitch by Barbara Edwards
On the Kennicott going into Whittier. Its three thirty am and dawn is breaking. I’m always awakened by the light. I look outside at the water. The mountains rise like the ancient gods to terrible heights. Snow and ice glitter in the increasing light.
The voyage on the Kennicott is an adventure for a staid lady like me. This time we found lots of space in the Solarium on the lounge chairs to sleep. Of the 499 passenger capacity, there are about 200 and most took cabins. 
How did we get here?
On our final leg across, the Alaska Marine Highway ferry system had to reschedule us. To my vast disappointment, we could get a ferry to Gustavus, but no return to Juneau for the Whittier leg. Fly the agent said casually. That is a common method of travel up here, but I really don’t do well in small cabin planes. And what about the dog and trailer. Oh well. I am flexible I assure myself. Then the leg to Sitka got awkward. 2 am boarding didn’t work out with a five day layover.
With Bill poking me, I asked why we couldn’t get on the ship leaving for Whittier right now. The agent gave me a smile, called the crew and said okay, go get on they have space. It meant leaving our lawn chair and water hose at the campground, but we saved ten days of potting around waiting for the next ferry out.
The dog is upset. He’s confined to the camper with six hour potty breaks.
The voyage lasts thirty-seven hours with a stop in Yakatak to unload people and cargo. A tiny island it makes me feel lonely to look at the shore.
The full day has us out of sight of land with four foot waves rocking the ferry despite the stabilizers. I can’t concentrate on writing and stare at the rough water. I’ve seen several whales, a pod of porpoises, an Orca and seals alongside the ship.
We disembark in Whittier at six am and the adventure continues. I thought I’d missed the glaciers, but am stunned by the one hovering over the town. 
Wow. There are 26 glaciers within a day trip from Whittier.
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska, writing Tagged: Alaska, Barbara Edwards,, The Kennicott, Whittier
June 1, 2014
Juneau, The Capitol of Alaska by Barbara Edwards
Juneau, AK
Juneau, AK
Reached Juneau for our lay-over for the connection to Whittier. I planned a side-trip to Sitka and one to Gustavus, the site of Glacier Bay National Park to use part of the ten day wait. I really anticipate seeing Glaciers.
Juneau is large, spread along the coast from from the Ferry terminal.
There is a huge tidal area that is a wildlife refuge before we reach downtown. I can see the Tram up the side of the mountain. I hate to admit this one is too high for me. I don’t get seasick, but I do get vertigo from heights. Not my thing. The downtown area has cruise shops as well as the usual local businesses selling local items.
I realize that I am not a city person. The small towns have charmed me with their differences, but the cities seem to be strangely similar.
Juneau, AK
We find the campground at the Mendenhall State Park. We can see the Mendenhall Glacier and lake. I’m impressed by the beauty of the formation. The breeze off the ice is cool and the lake is cold from the melting snow and ice. I’m shocked at a group of teen-agers in the water. Yikes. I’m bundled in three layers and still chilled.
Probably why I’m not an Alaskan.
Juneau, AK
The Marine Highway calls and says to check changes in our schedule. The trip to Gustavus has been rescheduled one day early. Okay. Since we’re like turtles carrying our home with us, it doesn’t matter.
Bill loves to drive and the area is interesting. Juneau is backed by high mountains, fronted by an arm of the sea. Beautiful.
I notice the departure for Sitka is at two am. Not a good time for either of us, so we go back to the terminal.
The people who work for the Alaska Marine Highway are so nice and helpful. He agrees it is a poor time and gets on the computer to check for a better option. Bill and I watch the crew loading the Kennicott, on its way to Whittier,
Now what happened— when they rescheduled our leg to Gustavus, they cancelled the return trip. We can get there but not back to catch our scheduled trip to Whittier. The other trips to Sitka are totally booked. With the Columbia in for repairs, the boats are all rescheduled. With both trips not available, we have ten days to fill in an area famous for hiking, and winter sports. Not my thing either.
I give the agent my evil eye and ask if we can get on the ferry loading now. Bill pokes me in the ribs and says don’t give him a hard time. I shrug. What can it hurt.
The agent calls the loading crew. They agree, “Room for one more. Load now.”
I look at Bill. “So if we stay, we have to pay for ten days camping with not many options for us to tourist around. If we go, we can add on the days to the next leg.”
Juneau, AK
So we abandon the two lawn chairs and our water hose at the campsite and get on. He calls the campground to explain.
Aboard the Kennicott
Keeno is unhappy. He doesn’t like pooping on the Ferry or being confined to the camper.
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska Tagged: Alaska Marine Highway, Barbara Edwards,, Juneau AK, Mendenhall Glacier
May 30, 2014
Petersburg is a fishing town by Barbara Edwards
Petersburg
Petersburg- At the wharf we watch the container unloaded from the barges. Even boats are piled on the top. It’s the only way to transport goods here.
The town is on a small level bend in the Narrows.
Its a clean, neat place with lots of flowers and some of the houses painted with colors. Drove to the Beach Park and walked the beach.
The Salmon Fishing derby is going on and lots of boats are in the harbor and on the water.
There are totems and petroglyphs.
Petersburg
I’m not sure why the place seems so different. The houses are mostly small, well-kept and nice. The town has a very neat center with the post office, library, town hall within walking distance. Its 50 plus and the sun is shining.
The weighing station for the 33rd Annual Petersburg Salmon Derby is at the Harbor Master’s dock. In a cooler is the 44.7 pound leader. It’s enormous, but there might be one bigger by the end of the day.
I’m watching the fishermen launch small boats. The marina has more masts than the forest has trees.
Petersburg
We drove the eight blocks to the edge of the town. The fields are covered with stunted trees, not sure why.
Looking for a restaurant to try a local food, but nothing is open. It’s Sunday.
I finally realise why Petersburg is different. The town has no
Petersburg
section devoted to cruise ships. It is a working fishing village.
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska, writing Tagged: Barbara Edwards,, Petersburg AK, Salmon Derby
May 24, 2014
Wrangell, Alaska is frontier country by Barbara Edwards
On to Wrangell.
House in the Narrows
Traveling up the Narrows we pass a single house on an island mid-stream. The feeling of isolation is overwhelming. What person would spend time so far from everything? I have thought about light-house keepers, but this is different. A home so far from people.
The Narrows slip between rows of mountains. I know they are broken onto individual islans, but it’s hard to find the breaks.
Mountain view in the Narrows
Clouds hover low and sometimes I think its another mountain range, but it disappears. The sun is shining in a spotty manner.I can see it reflectied on the forest in one area and another it looks like it might be raining.
Wrangell
The forest is changing. More exposed rock, fewer trees. Still steep. A tiny strip of exposed beach along the shore.
And tow whales close enough to see but not photograph.
Snow caps the mountains more often than not. The breeze is chill.
We drove aboard in Ketchikan and backed into the front space to leave first. The ship id twenty feet below the dock and we drive up this steep ramp to exit. I’m nervous at heights and this is narrow.
Wrangell is a small place. Of course I couldn’t find the campground even though I have to maps so I ask directions. The men laugh and say take a left then go down the road. It is easy to find the city camp ground. It’s on a small shelf above the water and the view is breathtaking. Wrangell reminds me of New England fishing villages. I hope they don’t think that’s an insult since they’re very independent here. It has the boat repairs places, marinas filled with a variety of fishing vessels and the processing plant. The shore is the most noticeable. Broken black shale, boulders and driftwood logs are predominant. It looks like rough walking, but I’ll do some later. This is not a cruise town. The stores cater to the locals with a few for tourists that have real handmade items.
At the visitor’s center I find my local stone. Garnet Ledge is a boat ride across the bay in the national forest. Only kids are allowed to gather the garnets. They use hammers and chisels to pry them from the rock. They are imbedded in micashist, sparkly grey stone almost as pretty as the garnets. They had a variety of sizes but i got one still in the micashist. I’m not going to say what I paid or everyone would take a trip just to get them. The lady at the center recommended a place to grab lunch explaining we should split the plate since the servings are huge. She was right. I spoke to a local at the next table about her research on four generations of Tlinglits and the problems collecting stories from the older generation. I wish her good luck since it’s an important project.
In the evening we’re unwinding. Bill is complaining about the persistent rain and there is a knock at the door. The camper next door, a fisherman, brought us a platter of Dungeness Crab legs. Oh my. What can I say? They were delicious. It would have cost us a lot to get them in a restaurant and we had enough to stuff ourselves. Even Keeno got a couple bites. Fresh from the water, steamed and eaten, the flavor is indescribable. I’ll never have anything as tasty again.
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska Tagged: Alaska, Barbara Edwards,, Wrangell
May 23, 2014
Ketchikan by Barbara Edwards
Ketchikan, last day. So what’s special? Mostly the people. They’re friendly, helpful and fun to talk with. The waitress told us about the Salmon fishing contest. She’s trying for the woman’s prize of $10,000. I hope she wins its three weekends of competition.
We drove the eitheen miles of road from end to end. Its a diverse area,
fishing, boarge and towing, lumber, the cruise ship dock with its resort bling, and at either end are the local homes. People have water cisterns catching the rain from the roof. Odd in an area with so much water.
It’s raining again today.
Creek Street
We walked on Creek street, the old bordello location until the 1950s. Now it’s a historical area, with a funicular up to the top of the mountain and a hotel.
I’m not disappointed because of the rain. It’s part of the charm. If I wanted sunny days I could go to the Caribbean. This is what I wanted to see. My country. It is the most beautiful on earth, believe me. I know because I’ve pushed foreign tourists out of the way to take my photos. Hehehe
If it weren’t cold, I’d be happier. The clouds hang low over the mountains. Sea planes take off every few minutes from the harbor area and the tourists are staying close to the cruise ships. We board the ferry early in the morning and are planning to park in the Marine Highway terminal overnight. The trip from Bellingham to Ketchikan was 616 miles.
So I want to remember the story about the white black bears. Before reaching Ketchikan is an area with waterfalls, snow and steep forested walls. A local mentioned this is where they found the legendary white bear. Not an albino, but a black bear colored white. A National Geographic story in the 70s told the story and took photos. I have to research it.
Then there are the blue black bears. Another research subject.
I like the Asylum bar yesterday. The owner, from Brooklyn, and his family were so friendly. We stayed for hours. I had too much to drink. They let Keeno inside and he loved halibut nuggets and French fries.
Two whales are spotted near the ship. I can’t see them very well, but they do spout a little then dive with the tail up. What kind? I don’t know, but this is only the beginning.
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Filed under: Camping, Trip to Alaska Tagged: Alaska, Barbara Edwards,, Ketchikan
