Connie Johnson Hambley's Blog, page 8

Light Shines on GOING DARK by Jolene Grace

I'm always excited to read a new author. I met Jolene at a Sisters in Crime event and was immediately drawn to her intense and clear manner. Learning she was a foreign correspondent before penning her new book didn't surprise me. The more I learned about her, the more interested I became in her book, GOING DARK. Read on. Get to know Jolene. I'll just bet if sacrificing all in a geopolitical thriller sparks your interest, you'll soon be lost between the covers of this terrific new book. -cjh
~~~
The idea of 'Going Dark' started to form in my mind as I spent nights working on the foreign desk at CBS. Those nights, I was alone in the entire studio, watching in coming video feed from our military forces stationed in Iraq. In 2006-07, the war was in full swing and we received daily updates on the progress and struggle people were facing during the war. The war zone wasn't too far off from our foreign correspondent team stationed in Iraq, reporting from there.
As I was sitting in my desk, I envisioned Amelia Sinclair (a foreign liaison in Going Dark) how hard and challenging must be to be separated from your family when your job takes you away from them, especially if you have young children. Sinclair ultimately sacrifices a stellar career when she finds out that she's unexpectedly pregnant and chooses to stay close to home by taking a desk job at the United Nations. In her mind, she can still do it all. However, her adventurous heart can't change and she's drawn into a cover op to send four U.S. journalists to Damascus, Syria, a country in the midst of a civil war, to interview the president.
Murphy Law's tips the scale and things quickly escalate when the four are kidnapped from their hotel room shorting after they arrive in the county. Amelia receives a suspicious e-mail with a video showing their kidnapping. Her boss, Harold Frost and her, don't have a plan in place to save them. Frost makes the decision to call Gabriel Jets, CIA's top officer, who's back in the States on a well-deserved break from the Middle-East.
When the White House learns four U.S. journalists have gone missing, they panic. President Delay's administration is a hundred days in and the country is divided by his election. Kidnapped Americans would spell trouble they can't afford at the moment. A Pakistani report links Sinclair to a terrorist cell suspected of the kidnapping. Sinclair's name is quickly escalated up the chain of command and her life is turned upside down on a dime.
When Jets and Amelia meet, Frost has been killed by an assassin and a sniper takes aim at Amelia. What is he supposed to do? He can't let her get killed, Sinclair holds answers to pressing questions, even she doesn't know it yet. Together they have to run to clear her name and find who's really behind the kidnapping plot if they want to bring the four alive.
In my debut novel 'Going Dark' I wanted to showcase the female strength, the love a mother posse to protect her child and empower women to pursue their dreams despite the obstacles presented to them in today's world.
'Going Dark' is now available in ebook and paperback on Amazon.
*
Jolene Grace was born in Eastern Europe in the 90s while the region was undergoing a geopolitical makeover. She witnessed first hand the poverty and struggles of people around her that deeply affected her and left a life lasting impression. Those childhood memories find their way today in her written works.


During college, Jolene began writing professionally while pursuing a degree in journalism. Her interest in politics deepened and led her into a fulfilling career where she had the opportunity to cover state and national politics.
Jolene interned for CBS evening news, working on the foreign desk at night time. It was during that time the idea of ‘Going Dark’ took shape in her mind as she watched the unfiltered tapes trickled in from the front lines of the American/Iraq war.
Upon leaving the network, Jolene went on having a successful career as a digital manager for radio stations across the country. Later on, she settled down with her husband and kids and began to write full time.
For updates and previews of upcoming works by the author visit www.jolenegracebooks.com; find and follow her on Twitter:@theauthorjolene; subscribe to her newsletter for exclusives. 
 ***  GOING DARK: 
Gabriel Jets is the CIA’s top agent, a man with a reputation of getting the job done, no matter the price. On a rare visit back to the States, Jets is dispatched to collect a video depicting the kidnapping of four U.S. journalists working undercover in Damascus, Syria.
Meanwhile, the U.S. president and his chief of staff, Robert McKaine, are called to the Situation Room to receive a briefing. Damascus is rocked by a terrorist plot that killed twenty-five innocent people.
A link between the two events is quickly discovered, with evidence pointing to the involvement of another U.S. journalist, Amelia Sinclair, a prominent foreign correspondent, with direct ties to the missing.
While Jets hunts for the video, he crosses paths with Amelia. In a blink of an eye, his mission is compromised as he believes she is been set up to be the fall guy.
As the U.S. government closes in to arrest Sinclair, Jets alters his assignment to help clear her name and track down the powerful behind the ploy to draw in the country into an international scandal. 

Writing Prompts: What Would You Write?

Okay kids. You know this drill. One writing prompt, six responses. Want me to add yours? Set your timer for five minutes and write whatever comes to you.

Have fun!


"How can I speak to you if you won’t even look at me?"...
=========

From Cyd, YA author...“How can I speak to you if you won’t even look at me?”
“I can’t, I can’t bear to see my reflection in your eyes.”I wondered what I would see. Regret? Shame?
“We have to face this Eti, face it together. I need to know…”
“No.”
“…know why. Tell me WHY you gave their son the wrong medicine.”
“I… I…”
“Are you angry at them? Jealous of Nehmae? Resentful when Diego and I speak in our old language?”
“It’s Yahilah.”
“What? Choco isn’t even her baby!"
“Yahilah hates me.”
“Hating Yahilah is no reason to hurt someone else’s child.”
When Eti turned around, I knew what she had been trying to hide. Hatred.
“It is,” she said, “if you want everyone to fear you.”*-Cyd
=================================
From Maggie:
"How can I speak to you if you won't even look at me? TURN AROUND!" her mom yelled.
"Why? I can hear you just fine."
"What are you hiding?"
"Nothing."
"Then TURN AROUND!"
The air thickened, the lights seemed to dim and the maternal instinct that never existed scratched.
"Stop yelling at me!"
"What will I see if you turn to me, Grace?" A gentle hand was felt on the small of her back.
"Nothing," Grace whispered, "nothing."*-Maggie
Always Follow Your Dreams!
Maggie van Galen
Award-Winning Author of  The Adventures of Keeno & Ernest  Children's Book Series

=================================


From Bette:


“How can I speak to you if you won’t even look at me? You, you – you! Ignoramus! Dammit, Jordan, Look at me.”            “Why would I want to look at you when you’re growling and overreacting?”            “Oh!! I can’t believe you did that?”            “What? Did what? I took my other to lunch!”            “But we were supposed to be at Amy’s play. You could have – you should have brought your mother!”            “I forgot. I’m sorry. I really am.” He looked away again. “How was the play?”            “Oh, my God. O cried. Just seeing her up there in her polar bear suit. It kept falling over her face. And she’s the littlest one there.”            “Well, I hope she didn’t see you crying. My God, she’ll be traumatized!”            “Don’t be silly, Jordan. She’s too strong for that.”            “Yup. And so are you.” Bette LischkeHistorical Fiction author====================================
From Donna:

"How can I speak to you if you won’t even look at me? Can't you please stop doing cartwheels while I am trying to tell you something VERY important.”

“What can be that important?” she called out, as her body stretched and rolled like the spokes of a wagon wheel.
“It’s something you need to know NOW—stop you are making me dizzy!” 
“Go ahead! I’ll do a handstand, then I can look at you upside down.”
“NO! It isn’t proper, I am looking down your nostrils! You are not being serious enough for me to share…”
“Oh, alright then.” She jumped in one hop from standing on her hands to landing on her feet.
“What’s the big deal?”

“The big news is that you have won a place on the gymnastics team for…the olympic team!*Donna Seim dseim@comcast.netwww.donnaseim.comCHARLEYFirst Prize for Regional LiteratureNew England Book FestivalThe Eloquent Quill AwardJuvenile fictionTop Honors, Literary Classics Book Awards

====================

From Elizabeth:

“How can I speak to you when you won’t even look at me,” said Melanie as she faced down her fifteen year-old son.            “Look at you, look at you. It’ s all about me looking at you but what about you looking at my emails?” Samuel answered with a shake of his long blonde locks.             Such gorgeous hair. Too bad it’s wasted on my son, Melanie thought for the millionth time.            “I didn’t try to look at your emails. They fell out onto my eyes as soon as I opened my laptop. Why’re you emailing your friends on my laptop? And if you and your fellow miscreants don’t want to get caught you should be more careful.”              She was sure she had leveled him with this advice. And did he know the meaning of miscreants? A good SAT word.            “And what is this about a party, and it’s this weekend and it’s here? We have talked about this, Sammy. No parties when Dad and I can’t be here to supervise. It’s not about your friends but how it looks to the neighbors. What will be the consequences to us in the long run?” Melanie said.            Melanie continued to pour the hot pasta into the colander and then searched the frig for the pesto sauce.            ‘Remember when the Leavitt girl had the party and no parents were home and the boy got so drunk? They put him in the bathtub and he drowned in his own vomit cause the plug was left in. Well, the parents were sited in that case. They were the responsible party.”            “Mom, there will be
Elizabeth R.Journalist, Memorist
============================

            .From Me:
"How can I speak to you if you won't even look at me...I've tried everything," I said, putting my face inches from his nose.
He stared straight ahead.
"I'm sorry. I truly am. I needed more than what I thought you could give me. I should have tried talking with you first, but I didn't. I was afraid. Do you hear me? I was scared to say anything."
He stared straight ahead. A line of red crept up his neck.
I waited, swallowing back tears. "Then, that's it. I cheated on you. I had to do it for me. To feel loved."
His mouth twitched. Veins bulged from his forehead.
"I forgave you when you strayed. Can you do the same for me?"
The quiet killed me more than anything.
"I'm sorry. We're done." I turned and picked up my packed bag.
I didn't see him move. He came up behind me. His hands wound around my neck.*-Me!

NEW BOOK: ROOT OF ALL EVIL by Liz Milliron

Liz Milliron is the pen name of debut author Mary Sutton. Mary and I "met" in the comments section of a popular mystery and thriller blog, Jungle Red Writers. I'll confess to lurking in her virtual world and was thrilled to learn we are both published by Level Best Books.

The Root of All Evil's release date is August 14 and you better pre-order now!

-cjh


The Idea Factory by Mary Sutton It’s a staple at every author event I’ve ever attended. Someone is bound to ask, “Where do you get your ideas?”Sometimes the author has a brilliant answer and sometimes they stutter one out. Me, my answer would be deceptively simple and seemingly evasive, but absolutely true.“Everywhere.”No joke. I can see a story on the nightly news and think, “There’s a story there.”I’ll overhear a snippet of conversation, either standing around a store or maybe someone is talking on a cell phone. And wham! I think, “What a great line for a story.” When this happens, I take out my phone and capture the line in Evernote, which syncs to my computer for later. In fact, one of these overheard lines (“You better fix this.”) was the inspiration behind Root of All Evil. More are waiting in Evernote for the right story:"She should have thought of that before she sent him the naked pictures.""If you're going to shoot someone you don't have to check his Outlook calendar first.""I have a knife,About THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL:

Rumors of a meth operation in rustic Fayette County catch the attention of Pennsylvania State Trooper Jim Duncan. When he learns that Aaron Trafford, a man who recently dodged a drug conviction, has returned to the county, the conclusion seems obvious. Trafford has set up a new operation.Meanwhile, assistant public defender Sally Castle’s colleague, Colin Rafferty, has become uncharacteristically nervous and secretive. Her suspicion that he’s hiding something serious is confirmed when she learns of a threatening visitor and discovers a note on his desk stating, “You’d better fix this.”Colin’s subsequent murder is the first frayed thread in a complex web of deceit. Jim fears Sally’s stubborn determination to get justice for her friend will put her in a killer’s crosshairs, but Sally won't rest until she finds answers--even if it costs her everything.




Bio: Liz Milliron is the author of the Laurel Highlands mystery series, featuring a Pennsylvania State Trooper and a Fayette County public defender in the scenic Laurel Highlands of southwest Pennsylvania. The first in the series, ROOT OF ALL EVIL, was released in August 2018. Liz’s short fiction includes stories with the same characters in Lucky Charms: 12 Crime Tales and The Killer Wore Cranberry: A Fifth Course of Chaos, as well as stories in Mystery Most Historical, Fish out of Water, and Blood on the Bayou. She is a past president of the Pittsburgh Chapter of Sisters in Crime and is a member of Pennwriters. Liz and her husband live near Pittsburgh with their two children, where she dreams of having a dog…someday. (Headshot courtesy of www.erinmclainstudio.com)

July Writing Prompt

Ever wonder how the world can change in five minutes? Or how about what worlds we can conjure in the same amount of time?

My writers' group always makes me laugh, gasp, smile and create.

Set your timers. Five minutes. Go!


My best friend looked me right in the eye and lied to me...



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My best friend looked me right in the eye and lied to me...

"There is nothing going on between us, Grace!  I swear."

It was as if Nicole was transparent, translucent, just an outline with strange green eyes. What once stood as a rock, now melted away as sand with a wave.

Lies were nothing new, but this was. The emerald stare never wavered, but truth and friendship went fuzzy, pieces drifting up to the night sky like ashes from a fire.

"I saw you," Grace hissed as she turned her back forever.


-Maggie van Galen
Award-Winning Author of The Adventures of Keeno & Ernest  Children's Book Series
Visit Maggie's online store at KeenoandErnest or learn more about her adventures on
Maggie's Website or on Facebook, Twitter or Pinterest

Contact Maggie at maggie (at) keenoandernest (dot) com 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My best friend looked me right in the eye and lied to me...
I could tell she was lying because the left side of her mouth twitched. She always does that twitching when she is telling an untruth.
”Not True!” I said, feeling argumentative. "You can not expect me to believe you when you are twitching. You wouldn’t have done that horrid thing—too nasty for a really good friend to do! I trusted you with all my heart and now I feel let down. Don’t tell me again, it hurts my ears.”
“It is true—I did lie—I had to or all the blame would have fallen on me and I didn’t do it!” 
“I know you didn’t do it, I did!”

-

Donna Seim Juvenile fiction author, Top Honors, Literary Classics Book AwardsCHARLEY-First Prize for Regional LiteratureNew England Book FestivalThe Eloquent Quill Awardwww.donnaseim.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



My best friend looked me right in the eye and lied to me...

“No,” Incahot’l said. “No one from the tribe took Paolo’s cutting stone.”

Now I began to wonder. Who was my best friend? Paolo, since three years now? Or my newest friend, Incahot’l? Almost a brother—and brother in law!--to me. Family, certainly, as I have none in these new lands.

“Paolo does not lose things,” I finally said, “especially his cutting blade.”

“I’ll help search!” Incahot’l attempted to look helpful, but his good nature was not adept at hiding deceit.

“Never mind,” I sighed.


-
Cyd Raschke

www.firstfoal.com
www.shakeology.com


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My best friend looked me right in the eye and lied to me...

"I didn't screw your husband. I swear."

Suze was all boobs and tats. I helped her design the tramp stamp on the small of her back...a triad knot with three crowns. We were all Swedes. A trio. My twin and Suze.

I shifted my stare away. If looks could kill, I wanted her death to be a slow one.

"I have proof. His texts. GPS locator. I called his work. His secretary tried to cover for you saying she hadn't seen you, but the orange slicker gave you away."

"Jesus, Kate. You know I'd never hurt you."

All the times as kids. The three of us. Suze was always there to help break up the fights between Kat and me. 

Kat and Kate. And Suze.

In the distance, Kat walked away, holding an orange slicker.

-
Me

EVENT: SISTERS IN CRIME AT BOOKSTOCK LITERARY FESTIVAL

July 27 - 29
On the Green
Woodstock, Vermont


Meet and greet your favorite mystery and thriller authors on the green in front of the Woodstock Inn! The lit fest starts on Friday with a full program of events through the weekend. Poets, essayists, journalists and, of course, fiction writers will mix, mingle and connect with readers.

Sisters in Crime New England will have a bevy of authors there. Stop by and load up on your late summer reading with a few signed books.

Okay, Fine. Here's an Update

"Where have you been?" you ask. I have no good answer for the dearth of posts except the very lame:
 I've been busy It's a brain space thing.I'm in the throes of revisions for my fourth novel, Find Cally. I'm at the stage where I'm hacking out chunks of chapters, tightening up scenes, and double-checking my research. The fun part is learning about mega-yachts, maritime law, and diesel engines. The tough part has been inhabiting the emotional space of human trafficking. 
And it's harder than I thought it would be. In Find Cally, a hardscrabble dad searches for his teen daughter in the labyrinth of human trafficking helped by a trafficking survivor. I have five emotional layers I've needed to crawl into in order to breathe life into my characters.The trafficked women: The biggest questions are how did they become involved in "the life" and why do they stay? The reasons are as simple as they are complex. Think of love and safety as viewed through an evil funhouse mirror.The searching father (Dak Turner): What will a daddy do to protect his little girl? What if that daddy is an alcoholic? Could the pressures drown him in booze making him incapable of searching?The innocent (Cally Turner): When and how does she realize what's happening to her? Does she see adapting as protecting herself?The survivor (Sienna Wesson): What scars does she carry? How does she shape her life after leaving "the life"?The men who profit: Manipulation and subterfuge on so many levels--emotional, social, financial, sexual. If it wasn't so real, it would be fascinating.I've bonded with the characters. I feel protective over them. I want the women I conjure to emerge unscathed and whole. Why? Because I've volunteered and worked beside survivors as they struggle to regain their sense of power and wholeness. I feel a responsibility to them. 
But part of my responsibility as an author is to bring readers into unfamiliar worlds and to leave them changed by my story. I want them to learn. I want them to feel. I want them to stare at the ceiling at night, wondering.
The unspoken update on my writing life? This book has changed me. I'm struggling to bring a book to life that will change you, too.

June Writing Prompt

Oh, another month, another writing prompt.
The water didn't reach up this far, but I
seize on any excuse to purge crap.This month, I arrived to my writers' group a little frantic and frazzled. My washing machine split a hissy (this should provide insight into the level of my mechanical skills) and drained the entire tub of water onto the floor. The tile floor of the laundry room survived, but the wood floor, sheet rock, carpet, etc. of my husband's adjacent office did not. Let's just say our productivity has taken a nose dive. The silver lining is that this forced hubby to empty said office of superfluous crap...and there was more of that than he cares to admit to. Andy Warhol has nothing on the time capsules of junk unearthed in hubby's "sanctuary."
But, write on I do! (my office is on the other side of the house and blissfully separate from the demolition and drama). My novel WIP has topped 83K words and I'm writing the final scenes. My author pals encourage me with their insightful critiques, and our prompt-driven flights of fancy refresh the creative urge with pure nunsense. Huh??? Read on!
So, want to join us? Set your timers for five minutes and write whatever comes to mind. This month's prompt is:

The last few nights she had a recurring dream about…

The last few nights she had a recurring dream about…

Escape. Would she tell her mother? Would she leave at night? Pack in secret? Steal?

Or would she ask for a tribal meeting to request her release, pleading for a return to Hill Country with a promise to mend the hostilities between the two nations for good.

What a foolish idea. No member of the tribe would be allowed to leave. Unless they were feeble of body or mind. Then they were be escorted to the edge of camp and bid farewell.

Every able person was needed here to sustain the tribe. It was a hard, hard life with few of the celebrations that her mother said happened in Hill Country.

- Cyd 


~~~

The last few nights she had a recurring dream about…
... pirates, of all things. Pirates? When had she ever even thought about pirates? It was considered a bad subject among sea captains, but surely they talked about them!
Pirates and one who had long red hair, billowy and full, wielding a huge sword, but in pants, in spite of the hair. Then at the last, the red-headed one was wearing a dress – still on shipboard, even near the helm, but wearing a dress. Her hair was still full.
How did it start? Oh yes. From high up, looking down at the deck – decks.
Two ships. Two decks, and this red-headed beast standing tall. Oh! Slashing off heads, ears, arms and every part of a man she/he could find. Ugh. A man crawled away. She – it was a she – took no pity.  
-Bette
~~~


The last few nights she had a recurring dream about ...
...floating, floating in air. She couldn’t wait till bedtime, as soon as mom said, “Lights out!” She was in position, stretched out on her bed without covers and she waited. Sometimes it took longer than other nights to take off, but as each night rolled around it became easier, almost routine. She closed her eyes and counted backwards from 100. That made the magic come sooner. Then she felt it, her body rising up higher and higher as she floated above her bed. Then with a quick sweep to the window, she unlatched the sash and out she went, the cool night air caressing her and the stars lighting her way. She soared through the sky like Peter Pan and Wendy Darling…soon... she would get there soon... she would find out why…
-Donna
~~~
The last few nights she had a recurring dream about...

... falling from the sky.  The surge of patchwork fields, the question about the enemy, the plane...her friend.  The fear washed over her like a dark silk blanket...rippling, touching, warning, questioning.  What is to be? Who will be there?  Will I survive?  Will they remember me?  "Look up! Swim for the surface!" Cottonball clouds, blue sky, silence, white safety-net billowing.  Peace.  Don't think.  Just survive.  Survive...now push down deep.
-Maggie

~~~
The last few nights she had a recurring dream about…
...Nuns. Lots of nuns. She couldn't explain it, but there was something spectacular about cheeks squished to red apples by a too-tight wimple. And don't even get her started on those long black robes. The starched white pinafore put her over the top.
She wanted to ask, "What is worn under that robe?" but, like a Scot's reply about a kilt, she knew nothing was worn under the pinafore. Everything was in fine working order, thank you.
So innocent. Such a perfect disguise.
A day later, she stood in front of the jewelry counter a Neimann Marcus.
"This crucifix is stunning in rose gold and two carats of diamonds. Don't you think?"
"Oh, yes!" A thud and breaking glass. "So sorry! How clumsy of me!"
-Me

STRONG WOMEN by Brenda Whiteside

STRONG WOMEN OF FACT AND FICTION by Brenda Whiteside
#girlpower
What’s the definition of a strong woman? Would you define female strength different than male strength? In days gone by, I think we did, but the lines have blurred especially in fiction. Kick-ass women heroines are extremely popular. Girl Power!
The fact is, even in real life the lines have blurred. Take for instance, FDW and me. Do you know what today is? Yes, it’s June 22, but it’s also my wedding anniversary, and I actually remembered. For the first thirty-seven years of our marriage, my husband always surprised me with a gift or greeting…surprised because I never remembered the date. Now, that’s just backwards. Women are the sentimental ones. Then we moved into a house in Robbinsdale, Minnesota with a new phone number. The phone number ended with 22. At last, something I could relate, make a connection, give me a hint to the date we were married. FDW is mushier than I am. Nowadays, we can admit such things.

The heroines of my Love and Murder SeriesWhat’s your definition of a strong woman? Do you prefer the muscle variety packing a gun? Do the women of the west, enduring hardships and loneliness strike a chord? Do you enjoy reading about heroines whose attitude says everything about strength?
The fifth book in my Love and Murder Series, The Deep Well of Love and Murder, released on June 18. “A vengeful ex-husband isn’t the only obstacle for Laura Katz and Randy Silva…a high stake, bloody fight for his land threatens not only their happiness, but their lives.”

At bit about Brenda:
Brenda and her husband are gypsies at heart having lived in six states and two countries. Currently, they split their time between the Lake Roosevelt basin in Central Arizona and the pines in the north. Wherever Brenda opens her laptop, she spends most of her time writing stories of discovery and love entangled with suspense.
Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.comOr on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthorTwitter: https://twitter.com/brendawhitesid2She blogs on the 9thand 24th of every month: http://rosesofprose.blogspot.comShe blogs about life’s latest adventure and has fun guests on her personal blog: https://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003V15WF8Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3972045.Brenda_WhitesideBookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/brenda-whiteside
I hope you’ll take the time to enter my Rafflecopter Giveaway for a $25 Amazon Gift Card:
a Rafflecopter giveaway

NEW BOOK: CONFESSIONS OF A TIMID RIDER by Heather Wallace

I met Heather at the EQUUS Film Festival in New York City last year and was instantly captured by her spirit of adventure and fun. Learning that she is a timid rider surprised me. An interview with Heather is here, and her new book launches today!

Oh, and being timid? Heather will be traveling to Mongolia to cover the Gobi Desert Cup horse race later this year. I've never associated "timid" and "traveling to Mongolia" with the same person before, so I'm definitely intrigued to learn more! Read on! -cjh



About the book: Confessions of a Timid Rider is a memoir detailing Heather Wallace’s insights about being an anxiety-ridden but passionate equestrian. After returning to riding as a mother, she is determined to follow her dreams in spite of the fear that she is somehow lacking in talent or ability.

An in-depth look into the heart and head of a returning adult equestrian, this memoir is not limited to those people with horse experience. In fact, Confessions of a Timid Rider is the perfect book to read for anyone who questions their value and worth in their designated profession or life choice. Motivational and inspirational, this book will make you determined to pursue your dreams despite the inner voice that says you aren’t good enough.

Bio:
Heather Wallace is a Certified Equine Sports Massage Therapist (ESMT), Certified Canine Massage Therapist (CCMT), and Aromatherapist working diligently to reveal to the world the benefits of natural therapies for animals through both hands-on work, and writing in her award-winning blog, The Timid Rider. 

Heather plays many roles as a mother, entrepreneur, and writer. Her first book, Equestrian Handbook of Excuses, was a 2017 Literary Selection for the Equus Film Festival. Her second book, Confessions of a Timid Rider, details her insights about being an anxiety-ridden but passionate equestrian. 

She is the Media Consultant for The Gobi Desert Cup, a 480 kilometer endurance ride in Mongolia. More, she is also the Content Manager and a regular writer for EquineInfoExchange.com, and contributes to a number of publications including Sidelines Magazine, and Holistic Horse Magazine. In her spare time (of which she has little) she spends her time with her husband, three children, two dogs, and pony. 

You can follow her on social media @timidrider or at timidrider.com. 


Author Website: https://timidrider.com/product/confessions-timid-rider/ .

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Confessions-Timid-Rider-Heather-Wallace-ebook/dp/B07D3FXGJX .

Lulu: http://www.lulu.com/shop/heather-wallace/confessions-of-a-timid-rider/paperback/product-23670606.html

What Prompts You to Write?

I took a mental vacation. You know what I mean. I took the kind of vacation people need to give themselves once in a while. I left my New England winter mindset and plunked myself down on a sandy beach. If my last post was a hint to my internal weather, the mental perch wasn't warm and sunny when I first arrived. Clouds, cold, and rain fogged my thinking. Regardless, I allowed myself to unplug, and eventually, the clouds cleared. My writer friends didn't event know their presence helped to warm my beach.

And it's my Pen Friends writer's group that I bring you to today. May's meeting was joyous. We were all there for the first time in close to a year! We celebrated one another's life events and each other. I consider myself very lucky to be in a group of such compassionate women and talented authors...although our responses don't always showcase our best work! (And two were reluctant to display their work here today.)

We start each meeting with five minutes dedicated to responding to a prompt and laugh at our diverse viewpoints.

I hope you enjoy May's collection!




The girl yelled "Get that thing away from me!"

That's what Grace should have said when Ian decided to share his "boyhood" with her, or when Dave said "condom's were gross" or when Rupe said he had "crabs last year and must still be in his sheets," or when Irma said "no one will know, we are on spring break," or when the coke dealer said "try it if you like, no charge," or when mom said nothing about so many things.

Why is it always in the rearview mirror that mistakes are so clear?  Why doesn't hind site come first?
*
Maggie van Galen, children's book author
Award-Winning Author of The Adventures of Keeno & Ernest  
Visit Maggie's online store at KeenoandErnest.




The girl yelled get that thing away from me…!" 

It stinks to high heaven…it is the grossest gob of gook I have ever seen in my thirteen years on this planet. What is it? Mildew, mold, snot, throw up? I might just add to it if you don’t remove it completely. MOM! It is slimy, it is scary ~ how can you call this dinner? I refuse to ingest it, if I do, I will gag! Oh no! is it moving? Did you send Tabby after rats in the back alley?" 

My poor mom looked dismayed, and with a hurtful sniff, she announced, “I worked like a slave all day cutting, chopping, cooking, simmering and spicing… you have insulted my cuisine. It is a recipe from your Grandmother’s kitchen, it is called, Moussaka!*Donna Seim, Juvenile fiction, author of Charleywww.donnaseim.comFirst Prize for Regional LiteratureNew England Book FestivalThe Eloquent Quill AwardTop Honors, Literary Classics Book Awards
The girl yelled "Get that thing away from me!"

If Flora couldn’t eat something, it was worthless to her. And horses do not eat butterflies.
On purpose anyway.

“Miss Flora,” Bonita said, chasing a big orange Monarch. “It’s cute and funny! It sits on your butt if you hold still.”

“How would you know?” Mariana drawled with her usual exasperation over the red filly’s bad horse manners. “You never hold still.”

Bonita giggled as she sprinted, skidded to a stop and tried some of the doma dressage steps she learned from Rialto, the handsome stallion.

“Leave the dancing to your beau, honey,” Flora mumbled, chewing. The mare was always chewing.
*Cyd RaschkeYoung Adult Author of First Foal
The girl yelled "Get that thing away from me!"
And I yelled, "Go squat. You can take a little excitement in your life."
"In MY life? You jerk! I said I hated that thing, so get IT OUT OF HERE!"
At this point, a sane mind would have walked away or done some toher smart move to de-escalate the crisis.
But me? Oh, no. This was just getting started.
"But, look. It seems pulled to you." I dangled it close to her A long red streak appeared on her arm where it touched. 
She screamed, "Damn it!"
Oh. Such fun.
"You deserve this."
"Why? What did I do?" She stepped back. Her feet tangled and she fell against the wall. Blood red covered her back.
"You're a clumsy jerk. Mos and Dad said to paint my room and that's just what we're gonna do."
"But red?"
"Yeah, red," I said, and slapped the dripping brush into her hand.*Me 

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