Robin E. Mason's Blog: Robin's Book Shelf, page 169

BLOGWORDS – Thursday 22 June 2017 – CHAT THURSDAY – SERIOUSLY WRITE INTERVIEW BLITZ – AUTHOR INTERVIEW – ANGIE ARNDT

BLOGWORDS – Thursday 22 June 2017 – CHAT THURSDAY – SERIOUSLY WRITE INTERVIEW BLITZ – AUTHOR INTERVIEW – ANGIE ARNDT
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CHAT THURSDAY – SERIOUSLY WRITE INTERVIEW BLITZ – AUTHOR INTERVIEW – ANGIE ARNDT

“Carrying a burden that’s too much to handle? On the edge of the cliff looking down with no way across? Focus on God and His word for the answers. He’ll give you the power you need.”

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“Pearls lie not on the seashore. If thou desirest one, thou must dive for it. (Chinese proverb)”

 

 

rem:  Hullo, Angie, welcome to my little nest—and HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Tell us a little about yourself. Where were you raised? Where do you live now?

ANGIE:  I was born in a small town outside Rock Hill, SC and now I live in a smaller town north of Columbia, SC.

rem:  You are SO close to me! Tell us three things about yourself.

ANGIE:  I have a degree in Art and was a commissioned pen-and-ink artist. In addition to that, I’ve been a science teacher, a corporate trainer and curriculum designer. At one time, when I was going back to school for my master’s degree, I had three part-time jobs: a teaching assistant, worked in the proof department (before machines did it) in a bank, and worked in a hardware store on the weekends.

 

rem:  Busy.lady.  :-O  (P.S. I’d love to see some of your pen-and-ink work!) Coffee or tea? Sweet or un? Flavored or not?

ANGIE:  Coffee, all day long. Splenda and creamer, please.

rem:  What is your favorite quotation and why?

ANGIE:  It’s a verse, “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might, as to the Lord and not unto man.” Ecc. 9:10 KJV It’s always been my favorite because it’s what my parents taught me to do, give it everything I’ve got. Do the best I can, no matter what I do. I still try to do that.

rem:  Much better mantra than perfection. Much. What’s your all-time favorite movie? Favorite TV show?

ANGIE:  I love NCIS. The puzzle that they have to solve and the character development of the team is the perfect combination.

rem:  Favorite season? Why?

ANGIE:  Autumn. I’m a red-head and besides the fact that the temps start getting cooler, the changing leaves accentuate my coloring. (Ha!)

rem:  Autumn is a very close second (to spring, it’s a *ahem* robin thing… ) for me. Hugs or kisses?

ANGIE:  Hugs. From everyone.

rem:  Great.Big.Cyber {{{{{HUGZ}}}}} If you could spend an evening with one person who is currently alive, who would it be and why?

ANGIE:  I know everyone says, Billy Graham, but there’s a reason. His obedience to God has been responsible for leading so many people to Christ (including me). I would just like to hear what he’d say, about anything.

 

rem:  That would be an amazing time! What do you think is significant about Christian fiction?  How has being a novelist impacted your relationship with Christ?

ANGIE:  As a writer, Christian fiction is the best opportunity most people will have to introduce Christ to a large audience. Stories, told correctly, are the best way to teach people. They pull people in so that the readers experience the same thing as the characters. And, as Allen Arnold says, I have to lean on God to write those stories with Him.

rem:  Oh, Angie, I so agree with this. When reading, what makes or breaks a story for you? Your fiction pet peeve?

ANGIE:  Flat characters.

rem:  Which is more important: plot or characters?

ANGIE:  Character development makes or breaks the story. If the story’s characters are flat, the story is flat.

rem:  As a designer, I can very much rsee the difference between plans on paper—two dimensional—and 3-D renderings which add depth and life to drawings. Same as with characters in stories. What would you do if you weren’t writing?

ANGIE:  Honestly, I don’t know. Whatever God wanted me to do.

rem:  Hard to imagine, isn’t it? What are you reading right now?

ANGIE: I’m one of Beth Vogt’s first readers. Y’all, she’s got a good one coming out soon!

rem:  Ooohhh, SQUEEEE!!! What do you munch on while you write?

ANGIE:  I don’t have a favorite snack, but I drink coffee or my Splenda lemonade, all the time.

 

rem:  Lemonade sounds lovely. Tell us a little about your writing journey.

ANGIE: When I was a corporate trainer, I became unable to stand all day, so I became a curriculum writer. I began to feel led to write fiction and attended the Christian Writers Guild conference. Later when I stopped working, God kept leading me from one writing opportunity to another. I’ve been very blessed.

rem:  I do love those stepping stones, and how nothing is wasted in Him. How long have you been a member of the Seriously Write team?

ANGIE:  That is a very good question that I had to look up. The answer is 2011.

rem:  That’s a good while! What do you like best about Seriously Write blog?

ANGIE:  The team. We care for each other, pray for each other, celebrate our successes and commiserate our “oops.”

rem:  The epitome of teamwork. How often do you post on the blog?

ANGIE:  On Seriously Write, every Tuesday I write or host someone who writes a post encouraging our readers to aspire to persevere. On my personal blog, http://www.angelaarndt.com, I post every Sunday.

rem:  The banner on your blog is one of my favorite ever. Tell us about your theme of back roads.

ANGIE:  Thanks so much! When I was a corporate trainer, I felt as though I was on the highway, but when I became disabled, it felt as though life was flying by. Suddenly it felt as though I was on, not a detour, but a bumpy back road. I learned that if I was going to find any joy on that back road, I was going to have to learn to trust God and lean on Him.

rem:  YES and AMEN! Angie, I can so relate to that, disability and back roads and all. You write about strong, independent women. Why did you choose them for your main characters?

ANGIE:  Because that’s what I want to be! I Seriously, I doubt that anyone – man or woman – would want to be weak or dependent. But the hardest part about being strong and independent is admitting that you can’t do it all. That’s when you have to lean on God.

rem:  Sweetie, that’s what you ARE. What is your Writing Routine? Where do you write: In a cave, a coffeehouse, or a cozy nook?

ANGIE: I get up at 5:40 every morning, have a cup of coffee and read my Bible. After prayer time, I write. I know that sounds sanctimonious, but I can’t write until I get my “head on straight” by getting it off myself.

rem:  There’s a reason to start our day with Him. What makes you struggle as an author? How do you handle it?

ANGIE:  Because I started writing late, I struggle with almost every aspect of writing. But I handle it by giving the whole process to God. When I forget to do that, I really struggle!

rem:  Truth! What do you enjoy most about being a writer?

ANGIE:  I love it when I solve a problem in my story. A lot of times, I’ll write, write, write until I get stuck. But when I figure out the “stuck” part, that’s so cool!

rem:  #nods in avid agreement! What are your top 3 recommendations for a new writer? What 3 things would recommend not doing?

ANGIE:  If you’re called to be a writer, I would recommend: 1) join at least one writers group, like ACFW; 2) take classes, such as ACFW’s online classes or Novel Academy and 3) write! You’d be surprised how many writers don’t write!

rem:  How do you choose your characters’ names?

ANGIE:  I have a list of unusual names. I use BehindtheName.com (rem: gotta check that one out) and I still have trouble. Eventually the name fits the character I have in my mind, but it takes a while.

rem:  Do you think of the entire story before you start writing?

ANGIE:  I have an idea of what I want to happen but then I use a version of the character journey to make sure I have all the ups and downs that make it a good story.

rem:  Tell us a little about your latest book? What is your current project?

ANGIE:  Injured firefighter Sabrina Honeybee Turner battles small town politics and natural enemies while struggling to keep her late father’s bee farm alive. But the conflicted memories of her childhood may prevent her from ever learning to love her father and embrace the legacy he left her.

rem: I was hooked already but that last bit just dug it deeper! What is YOUR favorite part about the book or why do you love this book? Why should we read it?

ANGIE:  I love Sabrina. She’s gutsy, stubborn and will push herself to do what needs to be done, even if it scares her to death. Everyone faces a time in their life when they’re scared. I hope that after they read my book, they’ll see that they can always trust God. We may not like where He takes us, but it’s always be where we’re supposed to be.

rem:  Ya, I’d say fits your “strong, independent women” persona to a T. Tell us about why you wrote this book.

ANGIE:  Well, I’m injured, like Sabrina, and my life is nothing like I expected it to be. My husband is a beekeeper, was a volunteer firefighter and was a ready resource for my many questions.

rem:  So life mimics fiction… Please give us the first page of the book.

ANGIE:

 

Sabrina Honeybee,

            The day you turned five, you asked to go into the beehives to get the queen’s crown. You wanted it for your own. Well, honey, here’s your chance. No one else can do it.

                        – Dad

 

May, 2017

            Sun-washed banners swayed between the double row of faded aqua, green and yellow shop buildings in tiny Crossroads, South Carolina. According to her phone’s GPS, Sabrina Turner’s inheritance stood one short block away, on the other side of the proverbial tracks.

            Ever since she’d received the lawyer’s letter, she’d ransacked her mind, trying to remember anything about her father, her hometown. But all that surfaced were Mom’s words, communicated loud and clear, even from her deathbed: Crossroads is a dump. And your father? He’s a no-good bum—the biggest mistake of my life.

            What little cancer had left of her Mother’s things had been easy enough to divide up between her and her sister. Thank goodness her father had a will. Even so, it was still too tempting to downshift and peal out.

            Buck up, Turner. Where’s your mettle?

            She could almost hear her battalion chief’s deep voice, graveled by a steady diet of smoke and fire. Avoidance is not an option, he would say. Too many people depended on them.

            “Fine. I’ll do it.” Speaking the words out loud always settled things. Didn’t it? Best she could do was gather up those painful memories while she was here and bury them.

 

rem:  You packed a lot in those 241 words! What is one take-away from your book(s) that you hope readers identify with?

ANGIE:  That they can trust God with their life and that Christ died to save their souls.

rem:  Where can we find you online?

ANGIE:

 

http://www.angelaarndt.com/

https://www.facebook.com/aearndt

https://twitter.com/aearndt

https://plus.google.com/+AngieArndt

https://www.pinterest.com/aearndt/

https://www.instagram.com/aearndt

https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/353343-angie-arndt

 

rem:  Anything you’d like to add?

ANGIE:  Whew! I don’t think so, although my favorite color is green.

Wednesday Wisdom – SWEET

Source: Wednesday Wisdom – SWEET

BLOGWORDS – Wednesday 21 June 2017 – SPECIAL EDITION – LOOKING GLASS LIES and SHAMING – PART II – the great clean up

BLOGWORDS – Wednesday 21 June 2017 – SPECIAL EDITION – LOOKING GLASS LIES and SHAMING – PART II – the great clean up
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NEW WEEK NEW ME – SPECIAL EDITION – LOOKING GLASS LIES and SHAMING – PART II – the great clean up

 

 

Talk about vulnerable! Of all the things in my life, this is perhaps the one that embarrasses me the most—my messy house. For an Interior Designer, I sure do have a pitiful place to call home. I mean, it’s cute n all, as houses go. But it’s tiny, very little storage space, and needs some work. (I’m renting, and I give kudos to my landlord ‘cause they’ve been good to me.)

 

But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the Storage Locker Décor. I could say I come by “pack rat” honestly; my grandparents lived through the depression. I could say I’m an artist, I can use “that,” whatever it may be (and “that” could include literally anything) to make art… someday. I could say “a place for everything and everything in its place—if I had a place for everything. I could say it takes money to have nice things, like shelves and storage container type things.

 

I could say any / all of those, and they’re true. I could also say that the silent disease in my body saps my energy levels. Also true.

 

But that’s not the reason my house was languishing on the edge of disaster zone.

 

The reason was… it didn’t matter.

 

Remember the other day, when I mentioned I asked God a little question? Remember it took a few years to dig up the lies I had believed for so long? Remember I said sometimes they sometimes brush my conscience and [try to] taunt me?

 

Seems I missed one. Two years ago in January, near the anniversary of that epiphany, I sat in my office-nest (aka my sofa) and looked at the CRAP piled in my living room. My line of vision carried into the second bedroom, aka spare room, aka JUNK room. It was worse in there.

 

As I sat, looking at this accumulation of stuff, piles of things, papers, personal artifacts and mementos, I wondered when my house got so bad. Now, I confess I have never been Suzy Homemaker, and for my BFA in Interior Design, my house is not nor has it ever been House Beautiful photo op ready.

 

But it didn’t used to be THAT disgusting either.

 

And I asked myself, or God really, “When did it get so bad?”

 

The answer devastated me. It got “so bad” when my kids grew up and left home. There was no one here but me anymore so it didn’t matter what my house looked like. Never mind that I almost never have anyone come visit or stop by.

 

But it hit me with like a gale force wind, doubled me over inside—it didn’t matter because I DIDN’T MATTER!

 

LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES! LIES!

I DO MATTER.
I MATTER.
I AM IMPORTANT.
 
I am loved and I am worthy.

 

I pulled it ALL out of that room. #vulnerablemoment

 

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And that’s not the worst of it… What pics I may have had I’ve mostly deleted. I started sifting and sorting and culling through ALL | THAT | CRAP. That box front and center? Trash, junk. The polka dotted basket next to it, “shredables.”

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Progress is hindered by my limited physical stamina. And limited space and options for what to do with what I keep. Last summer my neighbor got rid of two tables. I snagged them and put them to use in “the room.” Repacked my china—no china hutch, but someday… I got out a couple of the plates and I use them on Sundays.

 

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Progress is stop-n-go, start-n-stop, but it’s progress. There’s a bed in the room now, so it’s officially a guest room. I’ve hauled a box and large bag of clothes to Goodwill. (that’s a biggie for me, ‘specially some of the favorites I don’t (ahem) fit it anymore. Several business-y type things that’s just.not.my.style.)

 

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I’ve thrown out SOOOOOO MUCH ridiculous paperwork, junk mail, and crap—old grocery lists for crying out loud! The shredable pile is now enough for a small bon fire… :-O  I’ve sifted and sorted through kid stuff, things my grand girls [can] play with when they’re here, and I’ve given away or donated or tossed the rest.

 

It’s a slow process, but I’m making progress. I’m gradually switching from corrugated to plastic, so that what I do keep is a little more protected. It’s not all in glommed piles, but is in at least loosely organized clusters and piles now. 

BLOGWORDS – Tuesday 20 June 2017 – TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – NEW RELEASE EVENT – LOOKING GLASS LIES

BLOGWORDS – Tuesday 20 June 2017 – TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – NEW RELEASE EVENT – LOOKING GLASS LIES

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TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – RELEASE DAY EVENT – LOOKING GLASS LIES

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For most of her adult life, Cecily Ross has compared herself to other women—and come up short. After a painful divorce from her emotionally abusive husband, Cecily returns to her hometown of Canyon, Texas, looking to heal.

But coming home isn’t what she expects. In a town as small as Canyon, her pain is difficult to escape—especially with her model-perfect ex–sister-in-law working at the town’s popular coffee-shop hangout. With help from her father, a support group, and an old friend who guides her to see her own strengths, Cecily may have a shot at overcoming her insecurities and learning to love again.

The true test comes when tragedy strikes, opening Cecily’s eyes to the harmfulness of her distorted views on beauty—and giving her the perfect opportunity to find peace at last.

 

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I woke up in the middle of the night in our cavernous walk-in closet. Again. For a moment, I enjoyed the wispy memory of a not-yet-forgotten dream, but then I realized the plush carpet had become solid rock while I slept, its gritty fibers pressing against me as though I were wedged into a sandstone crevice instead of willingly tucked against the back wall beneath my hanging clothes.

…

Pressing my palm against the ivory carpet, I dragged myself out of the corner, sat in front of the mirror, and squared my shoulders as though I no longer needed to hide from reality. As though I’d be all right without Brett. As though his divorce papers fit neatly into my fairy tale.

“You can handle this,” I said to my reflection. In a few short hours, I could start a new day, build a new life, create a new me.

I could go back home and start over. People in my hometown wouldn’t be surprised things hadn’t worked out between Brett and me—they had said as much when we’d started dating in high school. After a while I could settle into the complacent solace of small-town life, lick my wounds, and become invisible among the laid-back community that Brett had always deemed unsophisticated.

“You go, girl.” I lifted my chin, but the girl in the mirror didn’t seem convincing.

No matter. That’s what I would do tomorrow . . . or next week . . . or maybe next month. Okay, so it might take a while, but at least it was a plan. And it was a heck of a lot better than crying in a closet. Like a baby.

 

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rem:   Hullo Varina, congratulations on your new book! What a powerful story! If you could live anywhere in any time period, where would you go?

VARINA:   I’d love to visit Europe around 1800, but only for a day or so. Actually, I’d like to step directly into Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Wouldn’t that be fun? But not for long … no indoor plumbing or central air.

BLOGWORDS – 19 June 2017 – NEW WEEK NEW FACE – NEW ME POST – LOOKING GLASS LIES and SHAMING

BLOGWORDS – 19 June 2017 – NEW WEEK NEW FACE – NEW ME POST – LOOKING GLASS LIES and SHAMING

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NEW WEEK NEW FACE – NEW ME POST – LOOKING GLASS LIES and SHAMING
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“That’s nice but you can do better.” The standard of perfection. And the voice that haunts me to this day.

 

Oh, I’ve learned that perfection is an impossible task master, cruel and demanding more, ever more. I’ve learned that no matter I give 100% it’s never enough for a standard of perfection.

 

Never enough… Not good enough. And I believed it. As a child, as a young woman, wife, and mother. As me. I. was. not. good. enough.

 

A failure.

 

I don’t like to point a finger or lay blame (because truly, the source is the father of all… LIES.) I’m an empath and see the why of another person’s faults, including my mother. For all her good intentions (push me to do better) she shoved me in a box I didn’t belong in: her standard of success. (weeping as I type)

 

I tried, oh! I tried. Tried to measure up. Tried to be… what she wanted me to be. I tried to be what she wanted to be—but never had the chance.

 

That’s nice but you can do better translated into everything I did fell short, everything I did wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough.

 

I wasn’t good enough as a daughter. I wasn’t good enough practicing piano. Wasn’t good enough as a student, wife, mother, friend… person.

 

And of course, I didn’t look right, either. My hair was too long, my clothes were “dowdy,” and of course, I knew I weighed too much. No matter I’m tall and my height camouflaged my “fat,” I was always thought I should be thinner. No anorexia or bulimia, but I was never satisfied… with me.

 

And I didn’t want to be me. I wanted to be ANYBODY else but me. I hid behind faces, and although I never split off, not completely, I totally get the phenomenon of multiple personalities. (incidentally, me being an actress? ON STAGE in front of dozens of people??? Sure, because it wasn’t me they saw. It was Dr. Armstrong and Anne Frank’s mother and Aunt Eller… I was another person.)

 

My journey? Accepting me. And twenty-two years ago, when I asked God why my life was so far removed from his promises, He said, “Sit down. This is gonna take a while.” And it did. Counseling, a couple of years on Zoloft, unlearning and relearning. Uprooting the lies, lies that kept coming back like stinging nettles. So subtle, barely a brush past a leaf and it burns. No mark, no trace of anything. Just the burning.

Lies do that. So subtle, barely a whispered hint from a comment unaware and it burns. Spirals you down to the mire again.

 

The cure? There’s only one that’s lasting, only one that truly has the power to uproot those lies. And that’s the Word of God.

 

I remember vividly a counseling session with a pastor friend. The lies were so embedded in my mind, in every fiber of my being. Lies spoken through my mother’s voice. Mother. The one who is supposed to nurture us. The one voice we instinctively trust.

 

Pastor Stan held his hands out in front of me, cupped as though he was holding a grapefruit in each hand. “The Word of God,” he said, and placed one hand over the other. Then he switched them. “Your mother’s words.” He quickly reversed them again, “The Word of God.” Back and forth he went a few times. His illustration drove home the idea—the truth—that the lies, what I had perceived for nearly forty years as truth, was not the final word. Only God’s Word is the final word.

 

Is it easy? Hell to the no. Is it worth it? Absolutely. Have I “arrived?” No. Won’t happen in this life time. But I can say I’m me now. I’m not a new person. I’m the woman God created me to be. I’m happy, I’m confident.

 

And yes, I’m beautiful.

 

 

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THE OFFICIAL BIO

I’ve always had voices—er, stories in my head. I once said I should write them all down so someone could write them someday. I had no idea at the time that someone was me!

 

I have been writing since 1995, and began working in earnest on my debut novel, Tessa in 2013.  Meanwhile, I cranked out a few dozen poems, made countless notes for story ideas, and earned my BFA in Interior Design.  I lived with depression for many years, and the inherent feelings of worthlessness and invisibility; I didn’t want to be who I was and struggled with my own identity for many years.  My characters face many of these same demons.

 

I write stories of identity conflict. My characters encounter situations that force the question, “Who am I really?” For all who have ever wondered who you are or why you’re here, my stories will touch you in a very real—maybe too real—and a very deep way. I know, I write from experience.

 

I have three novels published, the unsavory heritage series. Tessa, Clara Bess, and Cissy are available on Amazon, both for Kindle and in print. I also have several poems included in an anthology, Where Dreams and Visions Live (Anthologies of the Heart Book 1) by Mary Blowers, as well as a short story, Sarafina’s Light, also in an anthology, Blood Moon, compiled by Mary Blowers. I am currently working on The Tilting Leaves of Autumn, Book Two in my new series, Seasons. It releases in November, following The Long Shadows of Summer, which releases in August. Books 3 and 4 in the series will be out in 2018.

 

http://robinemason.com

https://robinsnest212.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Robin-E-Mason-Author-Artist/224223274404877

http://www.amazon.com/Robin-E.-Mason/e/B00MR5IQ9S

https://twitter.com/amythyst212

http://www.pinterest.com/amythyst212/

https://plus.google.com/u/0/108929134414473292325

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7808042.Robin_E_Mason

 

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#Blogwords, New Week New Fact, #NWNF, Guest Post, New Me Post, Robin E. Mason, Looking Glass Lies Feature

BLOGWORDS – Sunday 11 June 2017 – FRONT PORCH FELLOWSHIP – GOOD FATHER

BLOGWORDS – Sunday 11 June 2017 – FRONT PORCH FELLOWSHIP – GOOD FATHER
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FRONT PORCH FELLOWSHIP – GOOD FATHER

 

So many directions I could go with this post—so many directions rambling through my mind. But it’s a 1000-ish word blog post, not a dissertation on fatherhood.

 

Let me start by saying I love my dad. He was fun and funny, insanely brilliant, and he took care of us. He is lost now, somewhere in the cobwebs of depression.

 

My dad suffered lack of confidence, something I am all too familiar with. My mom ruled our house, her wish was his command. And I didn’t realize how dysfunctional we were til years later.

 

I only mention this because it skewed my idea of what a father is. For all my dad’s wonderful qualities, there were some significant gaps.

 

This distorted mentality led me into a marriage that was just as skewed. And after my divorce, the role of father was thrust upon me. (I know some who would argue that a mother cannot fill a father’s role, and they’re right. I also know some who would argue that a woman can never claim the role of father. I didn’t claim it, it was dumped on me.)

 

Back on point. God is a good father. He is the example for all fathers everywhere. He gives good gifts. He blesses us with favor and surprises. He wants the best for us—He GAVE the best for us, His own Son. Because He wants relationship with us.

 

Abba is a father who sees us in every moment, and meets us where we’re at. He hears our every whisper, and heartbeat. He sees our every tear. And He knows the cry of our heart, even when we can’t express it.

 

Two years ago there was a trip I wanted very much to take—Colorado for my high school reunion. Fourteen hundred miles. In my circumstances, it was impossible. But as the months went by, I began to feel like I’d go. No clue how this was gonna happen, but the growing assurance that I’d be there grew. And it seemed a way was made. A friend offered to let me stay in their spare bedroom. Here’s the crazy part. Another friend paid my way. I paid $0.00, zero, for this trip, even spending money was not out of my pocket.

What’s that got to do with God? Because He’s my father and He gives good gifts. I wanted that trip and He made a way—just because I wanted it.

 

That’s the God I serve. That’s the example of a good father.

 

And to all the dads out there who step up, hats off to you.

 

Happy Father’s Day.

 

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#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, Fathers, Good Father

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BLOGWORDS – Saturday 17 June 2017 – TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – NEW RELEASE EVENT – SOMEPLACE FAMILIAR BY TERESA TYSINGER

BLOGWORDS – Saturday 17 June 2017 – TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – NEW RELEASE EVENT – SOMEPLACE FAMILIAR BY TERESA TYSINGER
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TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – RELEASE DAY EVENT – SOMEPLACE FAMILIAR BY TERESA TYSINGER

 

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Welcome to the Blog Tour for Someplace Familiar by Teresa Tysinger. I’m posting today about this debut novel, a contemporary southern romance with themes of faith, hope in new love, and grace. It’s the first in a series of books set in Laurel Cove, a fictional town in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. I’m joining other bloggers this week to tell you a little about the book and spread the news about the giveaway Teresa is hosting! Be sure to enter to win a signed book and more from Teresa at the end of this post. And leave your comments and questions below—Teresa will be stopping by to visit with us!

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Artist Livy Johnson needs a fresh start. That’s what a broken heart and forgotten dreams can do to a person. On little more than a whim, she reclaims her grandmother’s old home in quaint Laurel Cove, North Carolina and vows to restore its original charm. When she literally collides with childhood friend, Jack Bowdon, Livy wonders if she’s back for an entirely different reason.

Jack can’t believe his childhood crush is back. As the owner of Bowdon’s Supplies, and once again the town’s most eligible bachelor, he offers to help Livy with repairs. Together they embark on the project—and an undeniable whirlwind romance.

But it’s not all smooth sailing. Can they survive the destructive pain of their pasts to discover God’s grace waiting to renovate their hearts?

 

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Not much had changed about Laurel Cove, North Carolina in the ten years since Livy Johnson had last visited. Driving down Main Street, it was every bit as charming and picturesque as she remembered. American flags blew in the breeze in old store fronts. Two old men in overalls leaned lazily on the back end of a rusty pick-up, probably shooting the breeze.

A red traffic light.

Livy’s foot slammed against the brake pad, lurching the car to a stop about a foot into the quiet intersection. The cracking of wood behind her seat could only mean one thing. Her easel had broken. How was she going to get back into painting without the easel she’d used since art school? What a great start to her new beginning.

With no traffic waiting, Livy steered the car left as the light turned. She needed no GPS to find the Laurel Cove Inn, a short, steep climb off Main Street. The car came to a much gentler stop in front of the grand white building sitting at one edge of the town square. Livy’s muscles ached from the five-hour drive from Raleigh as she stepped from the car and stretched her arms toward a cloudless sky. The building was every bit as beautiful as she remembered.

The sight of a man looking down from a second-story window of the inn pricked at her insecurities. A gasp of cold, crisp mountain air stung her throat as her hand rubbed at the heat rising up her neck. Her eyes cut to the hood of her car, its engine still pinging as it cooled. The uneasiness of being watched eclipsed the serenity of her surroundings. She’d come to Laurel Cove to hide from her problems, yet someone had already found her.

Don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t like she was hiding. Plus, everything, and everyone, she remembered of Laurel Cove was good. Curiosity pulled her eyes back to the window. The man’s tall figure filled most of the space between the frame. Flat palm facing out, he nodded in her direction.

Her heart skipped in her chest. Who was he? A tenant or maybe the owner? And why was he watching her so intently? She returned an awkward wave but not a smile, a tingling electricity traveling from her neck to her fingertips. Apparently satisfied, the man disappeared from the window.

Hiding had been effortless in New York City. Getting lost in a sea of people was as easy as stepping onto a crowded Subway car. Sweet Laurel Cove would be very different. Generations of families filled its church pews, ran its farms, and schooled its children. Anonymity was as rare as lightning bugs in wintertime—as her Gram would say. Being new in town and keeping a low profile might prove tough. Yet, the memory of feeling so safe and loved during summers here with her grandmother made it seem like just the place she was meant to be.

A cool breeze whipped at the few loose strands of hair around Livy’s face and pulled her away from her thoughts. She turned to gather her things from the backseat of the car. The easel fell apart as she removed a suitcase that had been holding it in place behind her seat. Ruined. But no time to dwell on more broken things. She straightened and retrieved the folded paper she’d carried in her purse the past two months, opened it, and scanned the contents. She refolded it with care and slid it back in for safekeeping.

Armed with a few bags and one large rolling suitcase, Livy took in the entirety of the picturesque inn. This would be home—at least for now. With its large pillars, wraparound porch, and grand hanging ferns, it epitomized southern charm. Her eyes wandered along the lines of the white siding, to cornices adorned with carved ornaments, and finally up to a red tin roof. It had been well maintained over the years.

As Livy took the uneven stone walkway toward the front steps, she dared to revisit the window. Empty. The encounter with the man had been harmless, yet something inside her stirred. Would she make friends easily here? Would they treat her differently once they found out she’d been living up north? Southerners may be known for their hospitality, but some could be wary of outsiders. Her future here was anything but clear. Yet she’d made it this far. With a deep breath, Livy opened the door.

 

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rem:   Hullo Teresa!! Congrats on your debut novel!! If you could live anywhere in any time period, where would you go?

TERESA:   Thanks so much for having me! I’d live right now, but in the mountains of North Carolina. Seriously my happy place!

rem:   They are breathtaking aren’t they? Where did you find this story idea?

TERESA:   The plot sort of just came to me as I kept writing. But the setting was inspired by my time spent in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Appalachia North Carolina. I knew I wanted to write a story set in these beautiful hills and valleys – in a quaint, quiet Southern town.

rem:   Who was the easiest character to write and why? The most difficult?

TERESA:   The easiest was Jack Bowdon, our handsome and sweet hero. For some reason, I felt like I just knew Jack before I even knew the story. He’s probably made up of part my own real life leading man with a few tweaks. The most difficult was Claire, Jack’s ex-wife. Even though she’s our typical antagonist in many ways, I knew I wanted her to also be redeemable in a way. That proved tough!

rem:   And I’d say you done good. #nospoilers What do you munch on while you’re writing / researching / editing?

TERESA:   My favorite is iced coffee. If I have food, I tend to eat mindlessly (which means too much!) so I try not to have snacks out.

rem:   I love iced coffee, used to drink it all the time. What do you do to recover once you’ve typed “THE END?”

TERESA:   Mindless television or movie watching! Best decompressor for me.

rem:   Ah yes, mindless is the way to go! For however long it lasts….

 

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Teresa Tysinger is a wife and mother transplanted from North Carolina to North Texas. When not working as the Director of Communications for a large downtown church, she writes charming southern romances inspired by grace. A member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Religious Communicators’ Council, and the Association for Women in Communications, Teresa has spent over a decade committed to telling stories of faith through written word. She also offers graphic design and marketing services to other authors through her freelance business, Good Day Publishing. She loves coffee, caramel, and stories with happy endings.

 

www.teresatysinger.com

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16536072.Teresa_Tysinger

https://www.facebook.com/teresatysingerauthor/

https://twitter.com/tmtysinger

https://www.instagram.com/teresatysingerauthor/

https://www.pinterest.com/teresatysinger/

http://amzn.to/2qHqhro

 

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Hiding had been effortless in New York City. Getting lost in a sea of people was as easy as stepping onto a crowded subway car. Sweet Laurel Cove would be different. Generations of families filled its church pews, ran its farms, and schooled its children. Anonymity was as rare as lightning bugs in wintertime—as her grandmother would say.
Their eyes locked. Again, heat rose to Livy’s cheeks. He needed to stop looking at her that way. She never should have noticed the captivating hue of his sky-blue eyes. When was the last time a man flustered her like this?
The place reminded her of a refined lady, full of subtle beauty and without any entitlement or pride of position.
She looked again to the dilapidated cottage. Her mind’s eye resurrected colorful flowerbeds, musical chimes swaying in the wind, and the vision of Gram standing on the porch in her housecoat waving her white handkerchief and calling Livy go supper. She drew in a deep breath that fanned the ember into a flame of determination. It wasn’t the end, but rather the beginning. It had to be.
Jack’s compliments collected inside her like shells in her pocket during a walk on the beach.
“He said that the love they shared flooded into the deep cracks of his grief like grains of sand. That it didn’t stitch the cracks closed, just filled in the wounds so that they were bearable.”
If a smile had a sound, Jack’s voice delivered it.
Relationships were such funny things. Some broke your heart and some healed it.

 

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Someplace Familiar was originally titled Good Graces, until a literary agent pointed out that there aren’t really “bad” graces, are there? So, new title! And I love the title I settled on.
I wrote the first (very rough) draft of the book for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writer’s Month) in 2013. That’s 50,000 words written in one month. Whew!
Livy’s grandmother’s cottage that she and Jack work to renovate in the book is based heavily on my own memories of my great-grandmother’s little bungalow, though hers was in West Palm Beach, Florida.
The Laurel Cove Inn where Livy stays while working on the cottage is based on the NuWray Inn in Burnsville, North Carolina.
As a graphic designer, I designed the book cover, though it took me over a dozen different designs before deciding on this one. Oh, the choices!
In one scene, Livy mentions tasting “Patti’s peanut butter balls” at a fair. These are real treats that my best friend’s mother (Patti “with an I”) makes and is a favorite of my husband!
Speaking of my best friend, she is the inspiration for Jen Barnett, Jack’s best friend Owen’s wife who befriends Livy. In this instance only, I didn’t even change the name, but decided to honor my friend by keeping the name.
If Someplace Familiar had a theme song, it would be “Hills and Valleys” by Tauren Wells. I listened to it a lot during final edits and the lyrics speak very well to God’s faithfulness in both good times and bad.
Originally, the opening scene of the book was set in Livy’s New York City apartment after she and Sam break up and he leaves her in an emotional mess. Thanks to help from several experienced authors and editors, I decided to start more in the action as Livy returns to Laurel Cove.
Good Day Publishing, my self-publishing imprint, is based on one of my favorite Bible verses, Psalm 118:24. “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad.”

 

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After ten years in New York City, a failed relationship drives Livy Johnson to the small town where she spent her childhood summers. She has her heart set on restoring the cottage where her grandmother lived, her home away from home that made those early summers so memorable.

 

Enter Jack Bowden, childhood friend and owner of the local supply store. Their friendship revives, and sparks begin to kindle.

But can Livy trust Jack’s kindness after years of debilitating criticism? And can Jack trust another woman after being betrayed by his wife?

 

 

Ms. Tysinger’s story is a portrait of life, the ordeals and the delights, the raw colors on a canvas blending to a final masterpiece. The pain and issues that both Livy and Jack have to contend with are real and cruel, the stuff that can make or break a relationship. The stuff that can make or break a man or woman. The struggle Livy faced with the abusive voice of her past wasn’t pretty; Livy grew as she dealt with it, gaining a confidence she hadn’t known before.

Anger rips through Jack like a knife through a canvas, ugly and unexpected. The wounds he bears are deep, and have not healed. Ms. Tysinger has given her characters depth and authenticity as they fight their pasts, in their failures. And in the triumph of forgiveness, even unexpected, unthinkable forgiveness.

 

 

I purchased this book on Amazon. I offer my review of my own free will, and the opinions expressed in my review are my own honest thoughts and reaction to this book.

 

 

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To win a signed paperback copy of Someplace Familiar, a custom 8×8” canvas painting by artist Cyndi Browning (in honor of the book’s heroine, Livy, who is an artist), and $10 Amazon Gift Card.

 

ENTER HERE

(https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e36c22633/)

 

Winner will be announced on Teresa’s website on June 18 once the tour wraps up. (Open to continental US residents only; sorry international readers!)

 

 

#Blogwords, Tuesday Reviews-Day, #TRD, New Release Event, Someplace Familiar, Teresa Tysinger

BLOGWORDS – Friday 16 May 2017 – FIRST LINE FRIDAY – SOUTH CAROLINA JAMBERRY by BRUCE DEGEN

BLOGWORDS – Friday 16 May 2017 – FIRST LINE FRIDAY – SOUTH CAROLINA JAMBERRY by BRUCE DEGEN
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FIRST LINE FRIDAY – SOUTH CAROLINA JAMBERRY by BRUCE DEGEN

 

 

Reading is My SuperPower
http://cafinatedreads.com  |   Singing Librarian   |   Bookworm Mama

Faithfully Bookish    |   Radiant Light    |   Encouraging Words from the Tea Queen

   |   Fiction Aficionado    |   Bibliophile Reviews

Kathleen Denly    |   Lauraine’s Notes    |   https://joyofreadingweb.wordpress.com/

https://abakersperspective.wordpress.com   |   With a Joyful Noise   |  

http://momentsdippedinink.com    |   http://cjaneread.blogspot.ca

 

 

 If you’d like to join us on your blog for First Line Fridays, shoot Carrie @ Reading is My Superpower an email and let her know!

 

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THE BLURB:  

This bestselling classic features a berry-loving boy and an endearing rhyme-spouting bear. The fun wordplay and bright paintings with lots of details for young readers to explore make Jamberry a perennial favorite.

A small boy and a big friendly bear embark on a berry-picking extravaganza, looking for blueberries, blackberries, and strawberries. Their fun adventure comes to a razzamatazz finale under a starberry sky.

From author-illustrator Bruce Degen, Jamberry is perfect for sharing. “With delightful, rich illustrations and zany wordplay, Jamberry is a must have book for any family with young children,” according to Children’s Books Guide.

 

THE FIRST LINE:

One berry, two berry, pick me a blueberry.

 

MY THOUGHTS:  

I first checked this out from the library for my granddaughter several years ago. She loved it so much she would ask me to read it over and over again, and I bought her a copy. The story is silliness and the illustrations are delightful and fun.

 

GENRE:

Children’s literature and fiction, poetry

 

STARS:

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#Blogwords, First Line Friday, #FLF, Jamberry, Bruce Degen

BLOGWORDS – Thursday 15 June 2017 – CHAT THURSDAY – SERIOUSLY WRITE INTERVIEW BLITZ – AUTHOR INTERVIEW – SANDY ARDOIN

BLOGWORDS – Thursday 15 June 2017 – CHAT THURSDAY – SERIOUSLY WRITE INTERVIEW BLITZ – AUTHOR INTERVIEW – SANDY ARDOIN
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CHAT THURSDAY – SERIOUSLY WRITE INTERVIEW BLITZ – AUTHOR INTERVIEW – SANDY ARDOIN

“It’s important to let the seed of joy grow through the darkness of adversity.”

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“In my fiction, I introduce you to imperfect personalities—men and women you can laugh with, cry with, and want to shake straight a time or two. ”

 

rem:  Hullo Sandy! Welcome to my little nest! Tell us a little about yourself. Where were you raised? Where do you live now?

SANDY:  I’m originally from a small Indiana town, but moved to Texas at 16. My husband and I are empty-nesters. We’ve been living in North Carolina for twenty-one years and love it here.

rem:  Ooohh! North Carolina! We’re practically neighbors! Tell us three things about yourself.

SANDY:  I don’t like heights, but … I prefer the mountains to the beach. And I did not inherit my mom’s love of cooking.

 

rem:  I love the mountains, too! Coffee or tea? Sweet or un? Flavored or not?

SANDY: Absolutely coffee in the mornings, not in the afternoons. I don’t drink much tea unless it’s winter and the tea is hot. Then it’s generally Earl Grey. When I do drink iced tea, it’s sweet. Shh… Don’t tell tea connoisseurs, but I’m a big fan of McDonald’s tea! It’s like slurping melted sugar.

rem:  Hello? Connoisseur here! LOL But you’re right, McD’s does have good tea.

What’s the most random thing in your bag or on your desk?

SANDY:  The most random thing? The two-pound hand weights I never seem to use except as bookends. I have great intentions, but they rarely move from their duty holding back some of the notebooks on my desk.

rem:  Ya, I have “Thing 1” and “Thing 2,” former 12 oz Coke bottles filled with water for the purpose of using as weights. For lifting. They’re cute decorations, though… Your movie snack of choice?

SANDY:  I rarely snack while at the movies, but if I did, it would be popcorn with lots of butter and salt. At home, while watching TV, it’s ice cream, though I try to keep it to a minimum.

rem:  Yum to both! If you could go back in time, what era would you choose and why?

SANDY:  I would go back to the 1880s of the Midwest or West. I think it’s a result of being raised on ’60s westerns and growing up a horse fanatic. It’s a time when the world was starting to modernize (as we know it) with various inventions and conventions, yet there was still a wildness with the continued settling of the country.

rem:  The west does have a wild sense to it, doesn’t it? (also a kid of the ‘60’s) Would you bungee ?

SANDY:  I would not bungee. I prefer to use rubber bands for their original purpose.

BLOGWORDS – Tuesday 13 June 2017 – TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – NEW RELEASE EVENT – STRONGER THAN MOUNTAINS BY LYNN DEAN

BLOGWORDS – Tuesday 13 June 2017 – TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – NEW RELEASE EVENT – STRONGER THAN MOUNTAINS BY LYNN DEAN
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TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – RELEASE DAY EVENT – STRONGER THAN MOUNTAINS BY LYNN DEAN

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Millie Morelle married her cowboy, Zeke, expecting only happiness ever after.

She was young and beautiful, he was strong and hard-working. How could their future be anything but wonderful?

Each had dreams to last a lifetime . . . but after fifteen years of heartbreaking disappointments, their goals seem to lie in opposite directions. They may share a home and a passel of kids, but they’re living separate lives, and no one is happy. Why did they ever fall in love in the first place?

Reaching a point of desperation, each makes choices for survival—choices that may destroy the very things they’re trying to save.

Will they be able to salvage, separately, something that can only be built together—a love that is stronger than mountains?

 

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Chapter 1

Slim Pickens Ranch,

Moreno Valley, New Mexico

 

Eyes wide, fingers rigid, Millie Pickens clutched the quilt below her chin, listening. The sound that awakened her was now lost on the other side of the boundary between sleep and consciousness. She exhaled soundlessly, her breath forming a cloud in the lean-to.

A faint pink glow tinged the frost on the windowpanes. She lay quiet, listening, drinking in the silence as her heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm. The few precious moments of peace before the late winter sunrise were almost enough to make its bitter cold worth enduring.

Zeke lay still beside her, jaw lax, mouth agape. Millie stretched her toes closer to his sleeping form, soaking in the warmth that radiated from his body. Most days he was up before the sun, but for a few weeks each year before calving season there was a blessed respite. Feathers rustled beneath her ear as she turned her head to study his profile in the pale light.

Despite the stubble he was still a handsome man, though the years had left their mark. His face had lost its boyish eagerness in exchange for a few wrinkles. The creases gave him character, but she missed the lopsided grin he always wore when they were young. One teasing glance—one wink—used to make her knees go wobbly. The twinkle in his eye explained the four young ‘uns asleep in the loft . . . and the four young ‘uns explained her gratitude for this moment of peace.

There should have been two more, but maybe the Lord knew she had all she could handle. The four she had would be up soon enough, clamoring for breakfast. Then their needs along with the duties of home and farm would claim pieces of her all day long until she collapsed onto the straw tick again tonight. She loved them, but mothering was like being nipped to death by tadpoles.

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rem:   Hullo Lynn, Congrats on your new book! Love this pic of you! If you could live anywhere in any time period, where would you go?

LYNN:   Right now! I love history, and I love “time traveling” through reading, but I firmly believe that God placed me right here and right now “for such a time as this.” Besides, in any number of centuries or decades, I’d have long since died of many illnesses or accidents that are now completely preventable or treatable!

rem:   Ooh! One of my foundation Scriptures! Where did you find this story idea?

LYNN:   While I was writing More Precious Than Gold, Millie kept trying to take over! She’s was a giddy, talkative little thing who used to drive the sober-minded, quiet heroine of that first story crazy. But Eliza (the heroine of Book 1) and I both began to see that Millie ran deeper than she appeared at first meeting.

rem:   Millie is kinda that way, ain’t she? Who was the easiest character to write and why? The most difficult?

LYNN:   Definitely Zeke! I loved him in More Precious Than Gold. He was happy-go-lucky, head-over-heels in love, and easy-to-get-along-with. Then after 15 years of marriage, several babies, and some serious threats to his career he started acting like he couldn’t remember why he ever got married in the first place. It was hard to write the “ugly” side of loveable Zeke and make that part of him believable. To do that, I had to find out why he was so stressed out…what he was afraid of. The result, though, was a very complex and relatable character.

rem:   It was hard to read too, but I appreciate him more for it; he’s more believable. What do you munch on while you’re writing / researching / editing?

LYNN:   I usually start my writing day over breakfast, which is almost always a cup of cinnamon/raisin granola with yogurt and a cup of coffee. After that, though, I’m pretty much “into it” for the day and often forget to eat anything for lunch.

rem:   So healthy! What do you do to recover once you’ve typed “THE END?”

LYNN:   I celebrate! Make a big announcement on Facebook and then take my family out to dinner.