Delia J. Colvin's Blog

The Wisdom of Love

Recently, I read this letter, written by my friend Jenna Stone. It's beautiful and soulful and the kind of advice I wish I'd given my daughter (and myself) years ago. Fortunately my daughter found her wonderful husband. And me...I've taken this quite to heart!

Thank you Jenna for allowing me to share your great wisdom! Check out more of Jenna's wisdom: facebook.com/puremoxiejenn

June 13, 2011


Hey J-


I was in a funk about guys last night. A real bitter little funk. I fell asleep thinking of how much I didn't believe what I'd said to you about romantic notions being our great downfall. It was in that moment. A fleeting moment of defeat....a moment I felt compelled to write about and share ...so for what it's worth - this is me being completely vulnerable ...


Deep down - in my heart of hearts - I am happy - thrilled in fact- that I've had the privilege of being in love and having been loved...


...even if it happens just once - it's a true miracle ...


I don't want to just settle or "pick one and stick with him/her". That is a philosophy of cowardice. I expect more out of life...out of myself...out of the partner I choose.


People get lazy with relationships - putting all of their effort in the beginnings - or as a last ditch effort at the absolute last possible second - pretending it is not too late at the end. Stretching it out much longer than it should be stretched ...like taffy ...till it finally thins and breaks. Relationships should be viewed as marathons not sprints.


Relationships are definitely hard work ...but the work should be like writing a book-- calculated risks- and yet you know the pay off will all be worth it. There is no question - Love should have the half ton payload - filled to capacity - absolutely every nook and cranny full - bursting at the seams.


I have taken the long road to learning and understanding life and love - but I now have a clear grasp on my own absolutes.


* I won't settle for someone who has no respect for themselves - or for me - or for my son.


*I won't be with someone who is chronically unhappy.
People who are happy do not want others to be unhappy. They strive to make people feel good - they share the strengths not the weaknesses of the people who surround them. They are of the light.


*I won't be with anyone who is abusive.
People who are abusive to others secretly loathe themselves and truly- their cup runneth over... It's not personal - they just can't give what they don't have ... It's not that they don't love you - they just love you to the depth and length and width of their form ....as much as they have been stretched - pulled- and moved to love. They can only love you to their own capacity. Your half-ton to their quarter-ton ... That is why love sometimes just isn't enough. It is the most elementary of math equations.


*I won't settle for someone else's choice for me.
Arranged marriage? Cultural bias? My family or friend's idea of what is right or wrong for me? No thank you. This is my path - my journey - my decision.


*I won't settle for someone who is living in the past - Who can't be at peace with what has happened in life.

Acknowledge and move on. Being present and moving forward is the only path I want to walk on.


*I won't settle for someone who is willing to settle.
Comfortable can quickly become uncomfortable - an itch that no one has the energy or gumption to scratch. The difference between a rut and a grave is only six feet. This is not my first rodeo. To settle down does not mean to settle. And if it does- I will truly never settle down.


*I want all of it.
I want the marrow of life and love. I want the romance - the fanfare - the friendship- the shared vision - the confidence - the enthusiasm - the unquenchable thirst for a full life - the trust - the loyalty- the support - the undeniable impact that true love can have on everyone around us.


*I want a partner who will meet me half way on the path - who is a whole person with or without me.
I don't want to complete someone or to be completed. I want to share my whole experience of life with someone else who is whole and on a similar path.


*I need someone who can support me and I him
...a helper...not a savior. A champion - not a hero. A reliable friend to help balance when either of us are a little off kilter. Someone who challenges me ...pushes me... and is ready to be pushed back. Someone who knows my potential and will hold me accountable and wants the same from me. Someone who is longing to grow ...and is not afraid of change. Someone who thrives in chaos and embraces the next adventure.


*I want a role model for my son- a mentor -a friend.
My son has a father - he doesn't need a replacement - If we have someone in our lives - while my son is still home - I simply want him to have mutual love and respect for both of us.




*And for the long term?
Simply this - I want someone who is willing to hold my hand and match my stride - I want someone to walk with - dream with - breathe with - simply be with....

Do You Believe in Ghosts?

With the ghostly element of my new book, HAUNTED HEART, coming out soon, I thought this might be appropriate.

Remember the advertisement for one of my favorite movies, "Ghost"? I've thought of that often, but until this experience I'm not sure I believed, despite the promise of the ad.

But when my daughter was a teen, we took in a French exchange student and it was absolutely one of the best things we’d done! Hortense was beautiful, smart as hell, very down to earth and a LOT of fun. As teens do, the number of French exchange students multiplied and we ended up with three more exchange students staying with us at least most of the summer.

We decided to take them all camping at Yosemite. I’d never been there and looked forward to a break from the California beaches, which are a bit crazy during the summer. But I worked as an Air Traffic Controller on a schedule they call “the rattler”, because it definitely leaves you rattled! In this schedule I typically didn’t have time to sleep between the early morning shift and the midnight shift that evening. And I very often had a consulting job or ice skating competition for my daughter the next morning. So staying awake and alert for 36 hours was something I had trained myself to do and thankfully haven’t done in years now.

This particular weekend was no exception. There were preparations to be made for camping. But I’d camped quite a lot in the mountains. I knew it would be comfortable, if not a bit cool at night.

After my midnight shift, we loaded all five of us into my Mazda MPV and headed out for our adventure. When we drove over Gorman pass to Bakersfield, my new car overheated and we had to stop for ten minutes several times. It was hot in the Central Valley. Of course, it was July! But summer heat had been lost on me in that I lived on the coast and air conditioning consisted of opening my windows a bit wider and when it was extreme heat, I’d turn on an electric fan.

The kids had discovered a new American band and had asked to put in a C.D. They all sang the words aloud in broken English (except for my daughter) and within minutes I ascertained that none of them—not even my daughter—realized the words they were saying—thank God!. I fought back a blush and pushed eject on the stereo. We loaded a Latin music C.D. and everyone seemed to be enjoying it. Although I admit it may have been just as obscene.

We’d gotten a late start out of Yosemite, and with the numerous stops, it was after two am when we began our descent to the Yosemite Valley floor. The kids were all asleep and at that point, other than a brief nap, I had been awake for over 36 hours. NOTE: I cringe when I see that now. But back then, I was quite used to working and carrying on for days before sleeping.

Driving into the valley was extraordinary and I was reinvigorated. I could sense the spirituality of the place—something I had never experienced anyplace before. And I could feel the greatness of the monoliths that surrounded us. Their presence was sharply carved out of the brilliant star-filled sky.

The kids had left on the Latin music, and suddenly, I thought I could understood the words to the music.

We arrived at our campsite at 3am and set up camp. Our camp area was called “Housekeeping” and it consisted of three cement walls and a curtain. Outside of the curtain was a picnic table, and a fence that enclosed our camp and provided privacy. We closed the curtain with the girls inside on the beds, and the boys outside on the private porch and all fell into a deep slumber.

After my days without sleep, I usually made up for it when I did crash. But this time I woke unusually early to the sounds of camp—always pleasing sounds and smells: coffee and bacon, pancakes and eggs frying and the smell of fresh pines. I looked out at the gap in the curtain, it was a bit more open than we’d left it.

I remember quite vividly thinking, “We need to get the kids up so we can hike now. It’s going to get hot later.” I glanced at my watch. It was 7am. We’d slept only 4 hours. I argued with myself and couldn’t imagine why I thought it would get hot. After all, we were in the mountains. It doesn’t get hot in the mountains!

Sensibility won out and I went back to sleep for another three hours. When I did wake, the kids had already started breakfast and I was grateful. Yosemite was breathtaking and I couldn’t wait to get on the trail.

As we ate, Hortense asked me, “Who was that man?”

I asked, “What man?”

“The man you were speaking to this morning?”

I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about. I hadn’t spoken to anyone.

Hortense was not to be put off. “The man that said we had to get up to go hiking because it was going to get hot outside.”

A chill ran down my spine. I knew exactly what she was talking about, but it had most certainly not been a verbal discussion! I had opened my eyes and been fully awake. Still there had been almost an argument about the question of heat in the mountains.

Finally I said, “Hortense, there was no one there. I didn’t speak to anyone.”

She said, “Yes. It was the old cowboy, with the long gray beard.”

“Old cowboy?”

“Yes. And he spoke to you in Spanish.”

At this, I sat in stunned silence.

Several hours later we made the very rugged hike to the top of Yosemite Falls. And I discovered that it did in fact get hot in these mountains! I carried a gallon of water and by the time we got to the top, the water was gone. It hit over a hundred on the trail and the climb down was rough without water..

A few days later we walked through Yosemite lodge. There was a picture of John Muir and his team. There, next to Muir was a Hispanic looking old cowboy with a long gray beard and something about him was definitely familiar to me. I turned to Hortense and her eyes were wide as she nodded. It was him.

Nothing else happened the rest of our time. No floating items, no secret messages, no signs at all that there had been a visitor who had somehow worked his way past the boys cots and opened our curtain to warn us. Still, I will always remember the ghost I never saw. But yes, I believe. Do you?

The Oracles: From Trilogy to Series

Just two and a half years ago I had a few seconds that changed my life forever.

A single thought struck like lightning while on my drive into D.C. (right before the bridge). It was so vivid and intense that as soon as I parked, I pulled out my iPhone and began writing as I walked. That first scene from The Sibylline Oracle, has remained much the same as it was then on my tiny notepad. Ten weeks later I had the first draft to a trilogy.

While writing The Last Oracle, Book Three of what is now known as "The Oracles" (Sibylline Trilogy), I realized the problem. I had promised to resolve all of the issues in THREE books by calling it a trilogy. But the novels had introduced characters, that in the initial vision I had never even considered. These characters had their own stories that were begging to be told. Also I felt there was much more to Alex and Valeria's story. Book Four has proven that.

Paolo Carrara became my favorite character and I felt that to end the series without giving him a future was to deny him what he deserved. Also I had written an entire back story to Paolo's mother, Kristiana, that was thoroughly researched and linked to historical events. I loved that story, and it guided events through all three books, but it had to be cut due to the length of The Last Oracle.

With that said, I am excited about Book Four: The Mists of Time, which will be released this year. It has been my favorite novel to write. I'm hoping to have Book Five out by Christmas. Book Five will focus on Kristiana and who she really is. I think you'll be surprised (there are clues in all three books).

The very talented photographer and movie maker Fazil Ahmed will be working his magic in a cover shoot for Book Four, starring the intense and very sexy Paolo Carrara, captured perfectly by Attila Kozma and feisty Nicky/Antonia Morgan, to be portrayed by the beautiful and talented Trista Tripp. Both of these actors/models are just phenomenal and exactly what I envisioned for these characters.

I don't know if five books will tell the whole story. In the meanwhile, I hope you follow the release at www.Facebook.com/DeliajColvin.

xox!

Delia

Finding Happiness

I've tried to stay out of it--despite my passion...despite my losses. I've tried to remind myself that my purpose in writing is to help people "feel good".

But there comes a time when knowing the truth just isn't good enough. There comes a time when you must speak up. Robin William's suicide was yet another reminder that I need to say what I know to be true.

This is for you sweet Michael.

Many years ago, my brother married a woman who had given birth to an extremely premature child; Michael. When I first met Michael, he was five years old, but the size of a three year old. He wore thick glasses for his reduced vision and hearing aids. He was nearly deaf without them. But the boy's pure JOY of life was contagious! Michael was one of the most beautifully sweet beings I have had the pleasure of meeting in my life.

In the early 90's, I read about various "feel good" drugs and had also been fortunate to have been warned of the price of that kind of "happiness". There were a number of them, mostly Prozac, Zoloft and to handle kids, Ritalin.

Once Michael was in school, his weak eye sight and over-stimulation from what he couldn't quite see or hear, made him a "perfect candidate" for Ritalin--which later led to many other drugs...and problems.

Once Michael was on Ritalin he constantly battled his emotions to find happiness. By the time Michael was in his teens, he was a problem child. He still had the beautiful smile that I remembered, but without any of the previous joy. He was on numerous prescription drugs designed to alter his mood and personality, and he was addicted to street drugs.

When he was only twenty-two, he walked into his mother's house, hugged her and apologized for being such a failure in life. He walked into the shed in their backyard, took a gun to his head and blew his brains out.

Happiness is not measured in deeds done or goals met, but in the process of achieving your goals. When you rely on the pharmaceutical "solutions" it offers neither happiness nor the ability to achieve your goals. YOU were meant to climb MOUNTAINS not molehills--don't ever allow yourself to believe less of yourself.


I'm not telling you this heart-breaking story without purpose. It's because I wanted to understand WHY! In my research I found so many stories of Ritalin and Anti-psychotics/Anti-depressants linked to extraordinary violence (including every single one of the school shootings) and suicides from people that had been on these drugs for only weeks. Look at the side-effects! Read them! They aren't there as a mild warning. And if you truly want to understand what we are doing to our children and to ourselves check out the site below.

YOU deserve a life full of happiness and joy. So did Robin...So did Corey...So did Michael.

http://www.cchr.org/videos.html

xox!
Delia

Greek Mythology Revisited!

As one who was NEVER interested in the sad and torrid affairs of the ancient Greeks, it came as a shock to me when my first novel—which I had imagined would be a modern day romance, became a trilogy steeped in the mysteries of Greek mythology. But those of us that live and listen to our muses know that it is not for us to dictate what inspiration may drop onto our laps—or our heads—only to capture it and be grateful...and grateful I am!

The Sibylline Trilogy is a modern story of soul mates, Alex and Cassandra, created by the god Apollo, who were destined to be together forever. But something went wrong and now Alex’s beloved reincarnates and is cursed to always die by her twenty-seventh birthday...with no memory of Alex.

As I began my research on Greek Sibyls and Oracles, I became particularly interested in the varied and opposing stories from mythology. Most interesting is the famous story of the Trojan Princess, Cassandra, who was originally described as having the gift of visions from her youth. In 560 BC, her story was retold. In the newer version, Cassandra betrayed the god, Apollo and so he spit in her mouth, thereby cursing her; she would have visions, but no one would believe her.

After much research, I discovered that the epic poems, which provided our insight into ancient times, including Cassandra and the Trojan War, were extensively edited from 560-528 BC to instill fear in the Roman’s of crossing the Greek gods.

Another story that I found interesting and borrowed was the explanation of the evil eye. Many Mediterranean cultures believe that it is bad luck to have someone look upon you with envy in their heart. They call it “the evil eye.”

In order to remedy the evil eye, Greeks and others, wear a marble that bears a blue eye ball to protect themselves from the envy of others. There are even tests to see if you’ve been affected by the evil eye, involving water and olive oil.

In The Last Oracle, the evil eye is one of the weapons of choice for the villainess; the seductive, sculptress Kristiana, aka Circe.

Blue eyes were evidently rare in ancient Greece. This makes me wonder if the "evil eye" was a demonstration of man's (and women's) propensity to fear things that he are different or not understood.

Because Kristiana (my fictional character) is blue eyed, I have filled in the missing history of the “evil eye” and linked it to a source: Kristiana.

I do consider filling the gaps in history, just part of the fun of writing fiction. But that does make me wonder just how much “fun” Homer and others had in retelling history.

Perhaps thousands of years from now, there will be those that believe that the evil eye was named for a woman named Kristiana.
The Last Oracle Delia J. Colvin

Guest Post by The Unfinished Song (Book 1): Initiate by Tara Maya

I'm excited and very pleased to host author Tara Maya, who wrote the Fantasy, The Unfinished Song (Book 1). I was inspired by Tara's own story and I hope you'll join me in welcoming her!

The Unfinished Song (Book 1): Initiate by Tara Maya

BLURB
DEADLY INITIATION

A DETERMINED GIRL...
Dindi can't do anything right, maybe because she spends more time dancing with pixies than doing her chores. Her clan hopes to marry her off and settle her down, but she dreams of becoming a Tavaedi, one of the powerful warrior-dancers whose secret magics are revealed only to those who pass a mysterious Test during the Initiation ceremony. The problem? No-one in Dindi's clan has ever passed the Test. Her grandmother died trying. But Dindi has a plan.


AN EXILED WARRIOR...
Kavio is the most powerful warrior-dancer in Faearth, but when he is exiled from the tribehold for a crime he didn't commit, he decides to shed his old life. If roving cannibals and hexers don't kill him first, this is his chance to escape the shadow of his father's wars and his mother's curse. But when he rescues a young Initiate girl, he finds himself drawn into as deadly a plot as any he left behind. He must decide whether to walk away or fight for her... assuming she would even accept the help of an exile.


EXCERPT
Blue-skinned rusalki grappled Dindi under the churning surface of the river. She could feel their claws dig into her arms. Their riverweed-like hair entangled her legs when she tried to kick back to the surface. She only managed to gulp a few breaths of air before they pulled her under again.

She hadn't appreciated how fast and deep the river was. On her second gasp for air, she saw that the current was already dragging her out of sight of the screaming girls on the bank. A whirlpool of froth and fae roiled between two large rocks in the middle of the river. The rusalka and her sisters tugged Dindi toward it. Other water fae joined the rusalki. Long snouted pookas, turtle-like kappas and hairy-armed gwyllions all swam around her, leading her to the whirlpool, where even more fae swirled in the whitewater.

"Join our circle, Dindi!" the fae voices gurgled under the water. "Dance with us forever!"

"No!" She kicked and swam and stole another gasp for air before they snagged her again. There were so many of them now, all pulling her down, all singing to the tune of the rushing river. She tried to shout, "Dispel!" but swallowed water instead. Her head hit a rock, disorienting her. She sank, this time sure she wouldn't be coming up again.

"Dispel!" It was a man's voice.

Strong arms encircled her and lifted her until her arms and head broke the surface. Her rescuer swam with her toward the shore. He overpowered the current, he shrugged aside the hands of the water faeries stroking his hair and arms. When he reached the shallows, he scooped Dindi into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to the grassy bank. He set her down gently.

She coughed out some water while he supported her back.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded. He was young--only a few years older than she. The aura of confidence and competence he radiated made him seem older. Without knowing quite why, she was certain he was a Tavaedi.

"Good." He had a gorgeous smile. A wisp of his dark bangs dangled over one eye. He brushed his dripping hair back over his head.

Dindi's hand touched skin--he was not wearing any shirt. Both of them were sopping wet. On him, that meant trickles of water coursed over a bedrock of muscle. As for her, the thin white wrap clung transparently to her body like a wet leaf. She blushed.

"It might have been easier to swim if you had let go of that," he teased. He touched her hand, which was closed around something. "What were you holding onto so tightly that it mattered more than drowning?"


LINKS
Tara’s blog http://bit.ly/12dFdNy
Tara’s Twitter http://bit.ly/162sCtE
The Unfinished Song on Facebook http://on.fb.me/1400mMq
Amazon http://amzn.to/15ciwYc
Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/13yM5Dr
Kobo http://bit.ly/1aFhg1P
iTunes http://bit.ly/1baddhN
Smashwords http://bit.ly/17zK8Xn

Initiate is free everywhere except on Barnes and Noble (where it’s $0.99). You can download a free .epub version via Smashwords.

The One Thing

Two years ago I had a freak reaction to minor surgery when my blood began to coagulate at an abnormal rate creating numerous blood clots that raced through my veins, into my heart—nearly stopping it and then splattered onto the wall of my lungs in what the technician said was more blood clots than they had ever seen in a living person’s lungs.

Remember that great line from City Slickers:

Curly: Do you know what the secret of life is? One thing. Just one thing.

Mitch: But, what is the "one thing”?

Curly: That's what you have to find out.

In that moment with my heart pounding wildly, knowing I had only moments left of consciousness, to be honest there was more than one thing. There were three things.

First, believe it or not, I had run into the bathroom for some odd reason and I immediately thought of Elvis and realized that I did not want to die in a bathroom. Yes, really. I returned to the living room.

Then I looked at my husband, Randy. It had been a very difficult couple years for him and I worried about how he would deal with this.

Randy and I have this amazing communication. Later, when they carried me to the back of the ambulance he was instructed to follow us.

As the doors to the ambulance were closed I thought, I don’t believe Randy knows that he will never see me again. A moment later the back of the ambulance opened and he smiled and said, “See? You thought you wouldn’t see me again.” He doesn’t remember saying that to me.

The third thing that I thought was that I was a storyteller yet nobody had ever read any of my stories. I had files and files of unfinished novels and screenplays. But I had never had the courage to allow anyone to read them and I had come to doubt my ability to complete a novel.

One year later I was still thinking about previous novels and how I would finish them “one day” when suddenly a new concept for a story flashed into my head in a matter of seconds. It was a storyline so odd to me in a genre I would never have considered and yet I was absolutely compelled to write.

I was working twelve hour days in D.C. in an intense job and truly no time to write. So I pulled out my iPhone and wrote on the notepad while walking the mile to and from my car, during lunch and other breaks and then in the evening when I got home.

In three weeks I had completed my first novel.

Seeing me writing on my computer was not an oddity at our home. What was odd, was when I took my laptop over to my husband’s desk and in a very small voice said, “I’ve just finished my first novel. Do you think you could take a look at it?”

Randy is not a fiction reader and it was absolutely terrifying for me to open my story to him. After reading for a few hours Randy turned to me and shook his head. I thought he didn’t like it. Then he said the words that forged our lives in a whole new direction:

“Forget air traffic control. This is what you were born to do!”

What an extraordinary gift! Followed by another…the story was a trilogy. Within 10 weeks I had completed the first draft of a paranormal romance, The Sibylline Trilogy. This was followed by the arduous task of rewriting, editing and learning the book business in a world that is changing rapidly.

For the past year and three months I’ve been a full-time novelist and I now spend a glorious 10-14 hours a day mostly writing but also learning and working the book business. I’ve been blessed to have stumbled upon the most extraordinary of teachers—first and foremost the amazing Melissa Foster, bestselling author and best friend to authors around the world with her various author groups—primarily Fostering Success.

I’ve seen the first two novels of the trilogy, The Sibylline Oracle and The Symbolon hit Amazon’s bestsellers lists with extraordinary reception. I’ve made money (yes, it is possible). But mostly I am living a life that reflects my one thing—okay two things, my passions, my husband and my writing and it is a beautiful life!

The SymbolonDelia J. Colvin

Soulmates and The Symbolon

I've always been quite the romantic, believing in things that others thought were ridiculous!

The second novel in my trilogy, The Symbolon deals with the existence of soul mates. I love the concept and having found the love of my life ten years ago, I can tell you that it is unlike any relationship I have ever had.

It's more than love; it is an understanding of each other that goes well beyond the norm. It is, in a word, extraordinary!

Since writing The Symbolon, it's been beautiful to read the responses from readers telling me about when they met their soul mate, or wondering if they ever will find theirs.

For me the journey began in 2002. I was living in Knoxville, TN. I realized that I had been settling for an "almost" relationship for a few years too many.

I decided it was time to wear my heart on my sleeve and seek the kind of relationship I desired. I had a picture of what that relationship would look like and I knew how it would feel. I had written about it.

My laptop in front of me, I began making a list of what would distinguish "a relationship" from "the relationship". The list grew long and I began to feel ridiculous listing many of the points. I knew I would settle for far less than I had listed. Still, there was a dream of the ideal and that was what I was seeking.

Once I made the decision and knew what I wanted was when the magic began. There were small perchance occurrences that we call luck, and many extraordinary things that we later question. Magic!

I met my husband on that journey and it is amazing how beautiful life can be when you are with the love of your life!

The Symbolon is the original word for soul mates, and it is the name of the second novel in The Sibylline Trilogy.

It will be FREE today and then 99 cents for the rest of the week. I hope you'll take a chance to check it out.

http://tinyurl.com/bpohfmy

Stephenie Meyer and Breaking the Canvas Bubble

I’ll admit it…I’m a twi-hard! And I am waiting with bated breath for the finale to the Twilight Saga, Breaking Dawn II.

I never thought I would be—I was certain my tastes were far more sophisticated and that just wasn’t my genre. But a few years ago l boarded a flight from SFO returning to my new “home” of Washington D.C. I perused the available movies to distract me over the six hour flight and finding nothing of interest decided to try downloading a book on my new Kindle app. Overwhelmed with choices and with only a few minutes to make such a crucial decision, I suddenly recalled my daughter’s insistence that I read Twilight.

My issues were many; it’s a KIDS story—and a vampire story, at that—a lastly and most importantly it was fiction! I had stopped reading fiction years before when I decided I needed to be more serious. At the time, I had delved deep into business and felt that giving up reading…and writing of fiction was a bit of a penance for the success I was experiencing.

Baring all reason, and noticing the flight attendants doing their preflight check, I quickly clicked the button and within minutes I was reading on my iPhone…and I was hooked! I fell in love with the author’s storytelling and her rich characters and a mood so thick it was palpable.

Beyond that, Twilight brought back wonderful memories of my childhood. I grew up under the drizzly misery of Seattle’s seemingly constant cloud cover wishing I could hibernate until the blue would break through…sometime in June. Once summer hit, my parents would pack all five kids up and we would head out with our tent for the Olympic Peninsula—near Forks.

I remember sitting in the tent with the rain pouring down on us, playing matchstick poker, while drinking my Orange Crush and munching on chips with French onion dip. There under the extraordinary canopy of old growth forest, the rain didn’t seem quite as oppressive. What a wonderful environment and it smelled heavenly! Besides the fire and food smells, I loved the rich combination of rain forest, ozone and canvas tent—still love that smell. Then I would begin watching with interest the puddle of rain on the canvas roof. I suppose it was a lack of discipline…or maybe the wonderment of childhood that forced me, despite constant warnings, to put aside reason and touch that canvas bubble of water, breaking the invisible seal and releasing the drips on me and into the tent. Still sometimes I noticed that if I didn’t flinch, it could actually be quite refreshing.

The next day the sun would always magically break through. After breakfast we would all run through the campground with its wonderful breakfast smells stepping barefoot over the soft dirt trails of the ancient forest with its million shades of green to the lake and splash into the comfortably cool lake, scaring the tiny fish and upsetting the nearby would-be fishermen.

When I read Twilight, I was transported to that place where the world seemed brighter. My reading that day turned into a two week marathon of all four books, and reminded me how much I love fiction. Oh, the hours of delight I have since spent with new books! The natural progression for me was to begin writing again and from there to the completion of my first novel…and then trilogy. Writing is the most joyful thing I do and to think of the years I pushed that passion aside brings tears to my eyes. I is so pleasurable that I sometimes feels irresponsible spending so much time engaged in it; like I have become undisciplined and again playing with that canvas bubble…knowing the drips will follow. But then I realize that this is what I was born to do. So to my thinking, Ms. Meyers gave me my life back!

Delia

NOTE: One of my greatest pleasures in life, besides writing, is hearing from you! I ALWAYS respond personally to my emails. So please take a minute to say hi and introduce yourself! You can send me a message on Goodreads or go to my website: deliacolvin.com

Reviews-Are they real or are they Memorex?

I have a confession...I rated Emma, by Jane Austen five stars and never actually completed it. Shocking, I know! But I LOVE Jane Austen and I had seen the movie...you know the one with Gwyneth Paltrow. And I simply knew I would love the rest of the book!

I am not new to the publishing world. I am new to Indie publishing, in a very new world!

Recently...actually today...I discovered that it is quite easy for anyone to pay for a host of good reviews. Evidently they can be fairly pricey. So how do you know if reviewers are legitimate or not.

Truly, in the end, a book will sell because it was liked. But in the beginning it takes a lot of marketing to simply get it read.

After all, Susan Lucci made it to the final rounds on Dancing with the Stars and...I love her, but the woman is NOT a dancer. So there is a bit of a marketing/popularity issue going.

For me, I am fortunate that my husband is a marketing maniac! I followed the advice of a number of sites about marketing my book. And had some early fans that insisted on helping the book become known.

I had offers to publish my book with traditional publishing houses and after looking at what they offered and paid out, I chose the Indie route.

Someone once said, that the internet is the bathroom wall of the 21 century. And that appears to be true, especially since Bobrick transitioned to plastic laminates removing the opportunity to defame others behind those closed doors.

But how do you validate a challenge? You fill the void with information and facts! Here is what I discovered:

1) If a large percentage of reviewers were new to Good reads or Amazon, I would search to see if a percentage follow the author as a fan. A purchased review probably would not. I think I would expect to see at least 10%. Remember though, it may take a few weeks on a new site to build that fan base.

If the author and the reviews have been there for more than a month and are not at 10%, I would begin to suspect purchased reviews...or poor reviews.

2) I would check social media and discover if a percentage of the reviewers followed the author or book on Twitter, Facebook or other social media.

3) I would send the reviewer a message and ask them how they discovered the novel and perhaps even ask them if they had been paid to review the novel.

If at least 70% of the reviews follow the author or book and have legitimate responses, you have good reason to believe the reviews are legitimate.

Hope this helps sort out the gems from the chaff!
The Sibylline OracleDelia J. Colvin