Robin E. Mason's Blog: Robin's Book Shelf, page 198

Something special to share with you.

Hey, ever’body!!! I’m B-A-A-A-CK!!! AGAIN!!!



Didja miss me??? After my blog-intense month of October, I took November as a sabbatical. Also intent on writing for NaNoWriMo…. #yadayadayada

This happened in July also, miss a couple of weeks of regular posting and suddenly it’s been weeks since I’ve posted at all, let alone regular!! So, I’m, er, uh – trying to get back in the saddle…..





Meaning, post regular posts. On Fridays. Every Friday. Starting today.
And today I’ve a little something special to share with you.
DRUM ROLL PLEASE


TESSA will be FREE for one day only!!



What day you ask?
Next Thursday.
That’s the 12th.



Why the 12th, you ask?
(good question)
‘cause IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!





#MYBIRTHDAYSCOMING, #mygifttoyou, #Tessaisfree, #onedayonly, #HAPPYBIRTHDAYTOME

Author Interview – TESSA AFSHAR

I’d like to give a big welcome to TESSA AFSHAR to my blog. Tessa, thank you for joining me today.



TESSA AFSHAR: Robin, I am delighted to spend time with you and your readers. Thank you so much for inviting me to be a guest on your blog.

rem: Tessa, have become one of my most favorite authors, I’m excited to have you here. Let’s get started! Who is your favourite hero of fiction?

TESSA AFSHAR: With six million other women, I would probably have to choose Mr. Darcy. He starts off distant and at times even unpleasant. But he morphs into his true self, becoming humble, protective, and loving. That shift is very appealing.

rem: I’m with you, Tessa, ‘specially if you’re talking about Colin Firth’s portrayal! mmm… If you could choose to be a character in a book, who would it be?

TESSA AFSHAR: Probably Jane Eyre, just because that is my favorite book. And because she is witty and strong when you least expect her to be.

rem: Good choice, and good reasons! Which book have you read the most in your lifetime?

TESSA AFSHAR: I imagine one of the Narnia Chronicles or perhaps Jane Eyre.

rem: Also good choices – totally with you on that as well! Where do you get your greatest ideas for writing?

TESSA AFSHAR: Bible characters that inspire me emotionally and spiritually, as well as my personal journals.
rem: Who are your favorite authors to read? What is your favorite genre to read?
TESSA AFSHAR: I don’t stick to one genre, but read a variety of books. I have been reading a lot of YA lately. C. S. Lewis’s Narnia Chronicles never seem to get old. I love everything by Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austen. Charles Dickens has the best descriptions of any writer I know. One of my favorite books is To Kill a Mocking Bird. But sadly Harper Lee never wrote another book.
rem: I’m sure you’ve seen the news by now, that Ms. Harper is, indeed releasing the sequel, Go Set a Watchman! It is expected out in July! Tell us a little about your current project.
TESSA AFSHAR: I am thrilled to be working with Tyndale Publishing for the first time. They represent many legendary authors including Francine Rivers and Joel Rosenberg. Instead of the Old Testament, I am writing a New Testament story based on the woman with the issue of blood. The Bible does not tell us anything about her other than the fact that she was sick for twelve years, and lost all her money looking for a cure. So I got to make up her whole life before that. It has been great fun. I have another hundred pages to write in a tight deadline. So I would appreciate your prayers.
rem: This is what I love about Biblical, and historical fiction – studying and research with due diligence, toward accuracy – making up stuff!! It’s what we do!! And prayers, absolutely! What advice, do you have for others aspiring to publish a book of their own/follow their dream?
TESSA AFSHAR: First, for me, writing is not a hobby. It’s not even a job. It is a call. I believe I was created to do this. The Bible says that God created us in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us (Ephesians 2:10). I believe, in my life, part of that work is writing. So what shall I say when things become hard or seem untenable? Shall I walk away from God’s purpose? Shall I ditch my destiny just because it’s hard? If writing is a call in your life, you must persevere.



Second, I have writing partners whose opinion I trust. If they felt I was wasting my time over a certain project, they would tell me. Just as they wouldn’t let me walk out the door with toilet paper stuck to my skirt, they wouldn’t let me work on a book that had nothing to offer. Try to find writing partners who are a good fit for you.

Writing makes me myopic. I can’t tell good from bad in my own work when I am too close to it. I tend to have a negative perception of my writing. It’s easy for me to think doom and gloom about my work. So I trust my critique partners to help me discern whether my perceptions of failure are accurate. Make sure that you surround yourself with honest encouragement.

Third, I take a break. If I am under a deadline, that break might be for a few hours. If I have the luxury, I step away for a week in order to gain a fresh perspective.

Most of us struggle with some degree of discouragement. You don’t win victory by never having such feelings, but by resisting them. By overcoming and fulfilling your destiny.



rem: Great advice! What is your writing routine?

TESSA AFSHAR: Sadly, I don’t have one! With a very demanding full-time job, I write when I can. I like writing on my dining room table, because I can spread out with all the necessary research books around me. Of course, this is not particularly good for actually eating on my dining room table.

rem: I spread out also, or “nest” as I call it, on the couch in the living room. TV? What TV? What are your top writing tips?

TESSA AFSHAR: Dream big. Hone your craft. Love the characters you choose. Be emotionally honest. Write because you love telling stories, not because you want to be recognized or admired or make money.

rem: Check, check, check, and check! Tell us a little about your writing journey.

TESSA AFSHAR: I really only became a writer when I promised God that I would finish what I started! It took me a long time to get to that point of obedience. After that, things moved rapidly. Story in hand, I found an agent and within a few months Pearl in the Sand went into print.

rem: Within a few months! That’s awesome! That’s God!! What do you enjoy most about being a writer?

TESSA AFSHAR: Hearing how the stories impact readers.

rem: On your website, you give the “about me” basics – but leave us dangling with “a story for another time…” Can you share your conversion to Christianity and the impact is has had on your life? What do you remember about your Muslim upbringing, however nominal?

TESSA AFSHAR: (Robin, in order to answer all these questions I would have to write a book! So I have just shared the beginning of my Christian journey with your readers here.)

rem: LOL

TESSA AFSHAR: I was twenty-five when I first began my journey of faith. Although I had lived in the Christian West my whole adult life, I had never heard the gospel. I was going through a particularly difficult season in my life. One night, I had a vivid dream. In my dream I was on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. From a distance I saw a man walking toward me and I knew instantly that this was Jesus. As He drew closer, I felt very disappointed. You see, He was not handsome by any stretch of the imagination! The only Jesus I had seen up to this point was portrayed by a couple of very good-looking actors in TV movies. I thought, This is Jesus?
As He came closer I realized, Of course this is Jesus, for in His eyes I saw such depth of love and power that I almost fell to my knees. He asked me to follow Him and I did. In the dream not only did I know Him as Jesus, but I also knew beyond the slightest shadow of doubt that He was the Son of God, very God of very God, and unlike anyone else in the whole universe.
Shortly after that dream, friends began to ask me to go to church and Bible study. It was as though God Himself first opened a door in my inmost being and then He arranged for me to find out the facts! I simply fell in love with Jesus. There’s no one like Him.

rem: Tessa, your story gives me chills! And I confess, brought tears to mine eyes! How did you go from reading Jane Austen to writing Biblical fiction? What was the impetus for your writing?

TESSA AFSHAR: The Bible is the greatest book ever written. Something about the stories it contains has managed to grab the human heart for thousands of years. More often than not, God chooses deeply flawed men and women through whom He fulfills His purposes. That’s why so many of us can relate to them! A broken woman who rises above her circumstances to make the right choice, to cling to God, and to ultimately overcome is an inescapably powerful character to read about. I relate to her brokenness and am inspired by her victory. In my experience, all of us struggle with various kinds of insecurities. We doubt ourselves. We even doubt God. But in God’s hands these fissures that run through the very fabric of our being can turn into glory, because the light of His countenance can shine through them. This is why I like writing Biblical fiction. That doesn’t mean I have stopped liking Jane Austen!



rem: Tessa, thank you so much for joining us today! It has been my pleasure to have you here!


#tessaafshar, #pearlinthesand, #Biblicalfiction, #harvestofrubies, #harvestofgold, #inthefieldofgrace, #colinfirth

Draven’s Light Cover Reveal

In the Darkness of the Pit
The Light Shines Brightest

Drums summon the chieftain’s powerful son to slay a man in cold blood and thereby earn his place among the warriors. But instead of glory, he earns the name Draven, “Coward.” When the men of his tribe march off to war, Draven remains behind with the women and his shame. Only fearless but crippled Ita values her brother’s honor.

The warriors return from battle victorious yet trailing a curse in their wake. One by one the strong and the weak of the tribe fall prey to an illness of supernatural power. The secret source of this evil can be found and destroyed by only the bravest heart.

But when the curse attacks the one Draven loves most, can this coward find the courage he needs to face the darkness?

Coming May 25, 2015





RAFFLECOPTER LINK:
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/shar...?


Enter the giveaway for a chance to win one of three ARCs (advance reader copies) of Draven’s Light.




ANNE ELISABETH STENGL makes her home in North Carolina, where she lives with her husband, Rohan, a kindle of kitties, and one long-suffering dog. When she’s not writing, she enjoys Shakespeare, opera, and tea, and practices piano, painting, and pastry baking. She is the author of the critically-acclaimed Tales of Goldstone Wood. Her novel Starflower was awarded the 2013 Clive Staples Award, and her novels Heartless, Veiled Rose, and Dragonwitch have each been honored with a Christy Award.
To learn more about Anne Elisabeth Stengl and her books visit: www.AnneElisabethStengl.blogspot.com


Pre-order Draven’s Light today!



Excerpt from
DRAVEN’S LIGHT
By Anne Elisabeth Stengl
(coming May 25, 2015)


He heard the drums in his dreams, distant but drawing ever nearer. He had heard them before and wondered if the time of his manhood had come. But with the approach of dawn, the drums always faded away and he woke to the world still a child. Still a boy.
But this night, the distant drums were louder, stronger. Somehow he knew they were not concocted of his sleeping fancy. No, even as he slept he knew these were real drums, and he recognized the beat: The beat of death. The beat of blood.
The beat of a man’s heart.
He woke with a start, his leg throbbing where it had just been kicked. It was not the sort of awakening he had longed for these last two years and more. He glared from his bed up into the face of his sister, who stood above him, balancing her weight on a stout forked branch tucked under her left shoulder.
“Ita,” the boy growled, “what are you doing here? Go back to the women’s hut!”
His sister made a face at him, but he saw, even by the moonlight streaming through cracks in the thatch above, that her eyes were very round and solemn. Only then did he notice that the drumbeats of his dream were indeed still booming deep in the woods beyond the village fires. He sat up then, his heart thudding its own thunderous pace.
“A prisoner,” Ita said, shifting her branch so that she might turn toward the door. “The drums speak of a prisoner. They’re bringing him even now.” She flashed a smile down at him, though it was so tense with anxiety it could hardly be counted a smile at all. “Gaho, your name!”
The boy was up and out of his bed in a moment, reaching for a tunic and belt. His sister hobbled back along the wall but did not leave, though he wished she would. He wished she would allow him these few moments before the drums arrived in the village. The drums that beat of one man’s death . . . and one man’s birth.
His name was Gaho. But by the coming of dawn, if the drums’ promise was true, he would be born again in blood and bear a new name.
Hands shaking with what he desperately hoped wasn’t fear, he tightened his belt and searched the room for his sickle blade. He saw the bone handle, white in the moonlight, protruding from beneath his bed pile, and swiftly took it up. The bronze gleamed dully, like the carnivorous tooth of an ancient beast.
A shudder ran through his sister’s body. Gaho, sensing her distress, turned to her. She grasped her supporting branch hard, and the smile was gone from her face. “Gaho,” she said, “will you do it?”
“I will,” said Gaho, his voice strong with mounting excitement.
But Ita reached out to him suddenly, catching his weapon hand just above the wrist. “I will lose you,” she said. “My brother . . . I will lose you!”
“You will not. You will lose only Gaho,” said the boy, shaking her off, gently, for she was not strong. Without another word, he ducked through the door of his small hut—one he had built for himself but a year before in anticipation of his coming manhood—and stood in the darkness of Rannul Village, eyes instinctively turning to the few campfires burning. The drums were very near now, and he could see the shadows of waking villagers moving about the fires, building up the flames in preparation for what must surely follow. He felt eyes he could not see turning to his hut, turning to him. He felt the question each pair of eyes asked in silent curiosity: Will it be tonight?
Tonight or no night.
Grasping the hilt of his weapon with both hands, Gaho strode to the dusty village center, which was beaten down into hard, packed earth from years of meetings and matches of strength held in this same spot. Tall pillars of aged wood ringed this circle, and women hastened to these, bearing torches which they fit into hollowed-out slots in each pillar. Soon the village center was bright as noonday, but with harsh red light appropriate for coming events.
Gaho stood in the center of that light, his heart ramming in his throat though his face was a stoic mask. All the waking village was gathered now, men, women, and children, standing just beyond the circle, watching him.
The drums came up from the river, pounding in time to the tramp of warriors’ feet. Then the warriors themselves were illuminated by the ringing torches, their faces anointed in blood, their heads helmed with bone and bronze, their shoulders covered in hides of bear, wolf, and boar. Ten men carried tight skin drums, beating them with their fists. They entered the center first, standing each beneath one of the ringing pillars. Other warriors followed them, filling in the gaps between.
Then the chieftain, mighty Gaher, appeared. He carried his heavy crescent ax in one hand, and Gaho saw that blood stained its edge—indeed, blood spattered the blade from tip to hilt and covered the whole of the chieftain’s fist. Gaher strode into the circle, and the boy saw more blood in his beard. But he also saw the bright, wolfish smile and knew for certain that his sister had been correct. The night of naming had come.
“My son,” said the chief, saluting Gaho with upraised weapon.
“My father,” said Gaho, raising his sickle blade in return.
“Are you ready this night to die and live again?” asked the chief. His voice carried through the shadows, and every one of the tribe heard it, and any and all listening beasts of forests and fields surrounding. “Are you ready this night for the spilling of blood that must flow before life may begin?”
Gaho drew a deep breath, putting all the strength of his spirit into his answer. “I am ready, Father.”
Gaher’s smile grew, the torchlight flashing red upon his sharpened canines. He turned then and motioned to the darkness beyond the torchlight.
The sacrifice was brought forward.



#anneelisabethstengl, #dravenslight, #coverreveal, #goldstonewoods, #cominginMay

Lake Surrender by Carol Stratton

Every life endures storms, trials. Mastering them is basic survival. A double upheaval demands greater skill. Ally Cervantes found herself rather in a Perfect Storm of life’s turbulence: a son on the autism spectrum, a divorce, and a sudden halt to her career. And with the divorce came the loss of the house and her life as she knew it. What does one do when the options are dislike, dislike more, and no way on earth?
Ally moved her family – minus the husband – half-way across the country, to a lifestyle as vastly different from what she left behind as her Jimmy Choos from flip flops. As different as the perfumed fragrance of roses from the bitter sting of thorns. And that’s what she felt she had walked into, a bramble patch.
Faced with a devastated present, an uncertain future, and embarrassing memories from her past, Ally forges a new life for herself and her children.

Ms. Stratton has woven into her story, the uncomfortable issue of having a child on the Autism spectrum, a topic not often, in this reviewer’s experience, seen in fiction. Ms. Stratton has skillfully melded the issues of life – divorce, preteen daughter, moving – into a compelling story. I found myself crying with Ally, rooting for her, scolding her even, as she faced down each of her demons. I felt her frustration and heartbreak, and wanted to step into the story to lend a hand. I applauded Aunt Nettie for being the hero-in-the-background, loving quietly with the love of Christ, urging but never pushing. I felt no small measure of disgust for other family members who were less supportive. And I felt near contempt for Ally’s ex-husband.
And I thrilled with each step Ally took into a life of faith, each step away from disdain for all things Christian, each step toward freedom in Christ.
I was pulled into this story from the opening lines, a quote from Winston Churchill, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” I was riveted when Ally pulled up in front of her glorious home to see the “for sale” sign already there. And my heart plummeted when her boss came to the house to personally give her the bad news.
Ms. Stratton makes every scene come alive with characters I wanted to get to know – and felt I did - with places I now want to visit, descriptions so real I felt like I was there. And love so true I felt it leap off the pages.

Lake Surrender is a story you don’t want to pass by, and a story you won’t soon forget. Lake Surrender is a story of hope and courage – and never giving up.


Lake Surrender, an inspirational women's novel published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas and can be purchased at Amazon.com: http://tinyurl.com/qxjz7z2



You can connect with Ms. Stratton on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B007N7NZ1O ;
on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Carol Grace Stratton ; or
on her website:http://tinyurl.com/cow3jnkwww.Changin...


#lakesurrender, #carolstratton, #autism, #perfectstorm, #reallife, #campcook, #faithandhope

Golden Daughter by Anne Elisabeth Stengl

Golden Daughter by Anne Elisabeth Stengl, is a vivid telling of one girl’s journey. Schooled in the formal, and strict, ways of a Golden Daughter of the emperor, Masayi Sairu’s life is laid out for her. She, as every Golden Daughter, is “raised to be dainty, delicate, demure . . . and deadly.” She is to become a secret guardian of a patron in an arranged marriage. Sairu, however, is not contracted to a marriage partner, but is bound to protect an honored and esteemed temple Dream Walker.
Sairu must accompany her patron, Lady Hariawan, to the Temple Daramuti where the abbot will provide for her protection. The journey itself proves harrowing and dangerous, and along the way another Dream Walker is encountered. More danger than protection awaits them at Daramuti, and Sairu must decide: how can she best protect Lady Hariawan?
As guardian of a Dream Walker, Sairu finds herself battling shadows and phantoms. Is the mysterious cat friend or foe? What of Crouching Shadows? Who is for them and who against? Sairu must discern good from evil, must trust her training and her instincts to keep her Lady safe.
I was reminded at times of Neverending Story, as Ms. Stengl weaves her tale into the Dream realm and back again, evil lurking at the borders of “the Between,” threatening to destroy reality and everyone in it.

This is a new genre for me, and I enjoyed my initiation. Woven like a multi-faceted tapestry, Golden Daughter encompasses characters whose paths criss-cross, as one life affects another affects a third. Distant tribes link back to Sairu’s life, and threaten Lady Hariawan. The slave, who has a surprising and unexpected connection. Layer upon layer, twist begetting more twists, and Sairu ever on her guard.
Ms. Stengl has created and crafted worlds, and conveyed them vividly with descriptive color and nuance; she takes the reader into the worlds she has created. The characters are vibrant and realistic, not cardboard and dull. I rooted for Sairu through the pages of Golden Daughter. I was crushed, as was Sairu, when the unthinkable happened. And I thrilled with her, when the unexpected took her by surprise.
Golden Daughter is a commitment of time, and of the heart, and I look forward to entering all of Ms. Stengl’s worlds.



#anneelisabethstengl, #goldendaughter, #fantasyadventure, #dreamwalker, #neverendingstory

FORWARD

Hey, ever’body!!! I’m B-A-A-A-CK!!!



Didja miss me??? After my blog-intense month of October, I took November as a sabbatical. Also intent on writing for NaNoWriMo. While I did get started on a story, I did not achieve 50K words [a mere 16K] I do have start on what will be the first of a series. It is, however, shelved for now, as I will focus my writing on the sequel to Tessa. I had not intended on a sequel, but 2 or 3 people asked about it, so I set my mind to it. and find myself more than a little bit amazed at how the story lends to it so beautifully! It’s not a sequential story, as Tessa ended in January of 2012, but a tangent that I wrote right into Tessa, without realizing it at the time!!!
And now…..

FORWARD

On setting goals. I’ve never done the whole New Year’s Resolution bit. Attempted it a few times, because it was a challenge, and I felt obligated. To prove I could do it. Gauntlet thrown and all that. But quantifying an objective, let alone a reasonable objective, let alone an objective I thought I could actually attain, that proved the greater challenge. And so, I failed before I even tried.

That said, this year is different. For many reasons. 2014 was a year of SHIFT.

And this year, the new year, 2015 is a year of FORWARD:


After being “in the boat” going to “the other side,” this year the “going” becomes “arrived,” and I’m moving FORWARD. This scenario was the basis for a devotion I read a week or so ago, based on Matthew 8:23. Jesus slept because a) He has no fear or concern about storms, but also b) when He said to get in the boat to go to the other side, He knew they would GET to the other side. I have now got to the other side.

Not only have I not been much on resolutions, it never occurred to ask Holy Spirit for a Word for the new year, either. A word for me, a word to focus on in the new year. When someone posted their Word the other day, I liked the concept, and in the twinkling that my mind thought to ask, Holy Spirit whispered to me, “FORWARD.” So, forward I go. Stepping onto a new shore, into new territory – MY territory – breaking new ground.

And with that in mind, I have set goals. Also new for me. Not having goals, for I’ve always had some vague and lofty notion of what I intend to attain or achieve. This year, I have given thought and purpose to my goals. And prayer. And I have written them down, and now share with you my dear readers.
2015 GOALS





• finish Clara Bess (the sequel to Tessa) – I’ve just barely started, but I’ve the general story arc [I’m a pantzer, NOT an outliner] – based on Tessa, I’m figuring on 120K words, and allowing for 1000 words per day, that puts me to April to finish, and with editing, etc, my GOAL is to publish by the end of May!!!
• design and develop my website [upgrade my blog]
• author interviews – I’ve discovered a rather enjoy doing interviews, and especially enjoy getting to know other authors
• book reviews - #MUSTREAD – my weakness is not allowing, ahem, MAKING enough time to read. I read more in 2014 than perhaps in the past [sad for a book lover such as myself] and in doing so, have discovered genres I might not have ventured before! Brian Knack, Jane Ann McLachlan, Anne Elisabeth Stengl, names come to mind!! GREAT stories, and probably wouldn’t have read them if not for the intent to write a review!!!
• TIME MANAGEMENT aka DISCIPLINE – nuff said
• tech smart – need to be more savvy with the tech side of things, and not have to run crying to my techie friends when I need help!!
• learn Photo Shop – I love designing mine own covers, and PS would open a whole world of possibilities heretofore unknown to my designing abilities!

There ya have it! my FORWARD goals for 2015!!!


#2015, #newyear, #noresolutions, #goals, #SHIFT, #FORWARD, #writingmysequel

SQUEEEE!!!!! GIVEAWAY WINNERS!!!!!

Thanks to everyone who entered!
Congratulations to Pat, Esther, and Beverly!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!


#giveawaywinners, #readingTessa, #merryChristmas, #happyreading

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday!

“Vandy and Marni’s little flat was floating in pink and yellow balloons. Lucius’ cake was a wonder in pink and yellow. The gift table was piled high. Cassie had quite the merry band of “aunts” and “uncles” present for her big day. Vandy, of course, and Scoop, Worley and Hobbit. Tru had moved in with the girls and was a like a third mom to Cassie. Reid, and Apollo and Ermelle and their kids – all made for a lively houseful. Kase even brought a present, a porcelain carousel pony that played Brahm’s lullaby.

Marni retreated to her room to paint.” [excerpted from Tessa.]

“Happy Birthday Dear Cassie, Happy Birthday to You!” The familiar chorus rang in the small apartment. Vandy held Cassie and helped her blow out the single yellow candle.
At the chorus of cheers and clapping of hands, Cassie waved her arms and squealed and shrieked. Vandy wedged her in the high chair, and Cassie banged her hands on the tray, squealing still. Ermelle deftly sliced the cake- it was a work of art - and placed a generous portion in front of the birthday girl.
In the room, behind the closed door, Marni tried to tune out the festivities and celebration of her child’s first birthday party.
Cassie poked a tentative finger into the yellow sugar daisies, then two fingers. She drew her hand to her mouth and tasted. “Nummm,” she cooed.” She grabbed at the hunk of cake, shoved a fistful face-ward, smearing pink frosting into her raven hair. Then, both hands got in on the business of consuming the cake.
Cassie had an audience, admiring fans, cheering her on, laughing as she demolished the sugar concoction. She giggled and squealed. And plopped her face straight in the remaining cake. Pink and yellow globbed her dimpled nose, her eyelashes, her cheeks.
Vandy stepped to the bedroom door, knocked, and peeped in.
“Marni, you gotta come see your kid!”
But Marni just shook her head, and drew her brush in a sweeping stroke across her canvas.
“Nah, I’m just going to stay here and finish this painting.”
It was the most disjointed painting Vandy had ever seen Marni produce.

Tru sat cross-legged on the floor, Indian style, holding Cassie in her lap. Vandy handed her a brightly wrapped package.
Cassie banged it like a drum.
Vandy slipped a finger beneath a flap of paper, popped the tape loose. Cassie grasped the loosened paper and pulled. The paper ripped. Cassie squealed with delight. She pulled some more, more paper ripped, she squealed louder.
The wounded paper revealed a Patch Pony®, and Tru let go of Cassie to show her how to pull the toy. His little head wobbled and bobbled and Cassie giggled with glee, bobbin her head to match the pony.
Vandy snagged the toddler and handed her another package, her own gift to the birthday girl. Cassie looked to Vandy, waiting for her lead to peel back the paper. As soon as Vandy slipped a slender paint-stained finger beneath the flap of paper, Cassie’s chubby ones grabbed at the paper and pulled it away. Under the pretty paper, behind a sheath of cellophane, a Thumbelina Doll smiled out. Cassie grasped at the doll, and cried, “Baby! Baby!”
Wrestling free of Vandy’s grasp, Cassie paraded her baby in front of each guest, announcing anew to each of them, “Baby!”
Cassie grew weary of the dolly, and spying more gift packages, lunged for the pile. One by one, Tru and Vandy assisted in opening the gifts, and one by one Cassie paraded them before her guests, who cooed and admired accordingly.
Kase presented his gift to her last, personally. He had not placed it in the pile with the others; he had not been decided he would join the party. But Cassie had him wrapped around her little finger, and he knew he couldn’t miss her big day.

Kase plopped on the floor, playing the carousel for Cassie over and over again. It was her favorite gift. Cassie climbed on his back and begged for pony rides, which he happily obliged.
The others were speechless. To see Kase so interactive, so downright playful was a side of him they had never seen, a side he had never let them see.
Kase plowed through the discarded birthday gift wrap, sending it sailing in the air. Cassie tumbled from his back and squealed with delight, her chubby legs toddling to catch every piece and ribbon and bow.
“Cassie!” Trudy called. “Come see Auntie Tru!” The teen-age girl was enamored of the toddler, and couldn’t wait to have babies of her own. But Cassie would have none of it. She grew sleepy; it had been a busy afternoon, and she fought sleep with greater bursts of fading energy.
Cassie escaped Tru’s attempt to hold her, racing, toddler-wise across the room, headlong for the Christmas tree. She barreled right into the lower branches, the silver wire limb poking her in the belly.
Cassie was not wounded, however, but tickled. Her shriek of delight turned to terror, though, as the little tree toppled over onto her head.
Kase rescued her, rocked her and cooed her. Cassie’s fat little thumb went straight to her mouth, and her plea for her new “Baby” was garbled. Kase sat in a kitchen chair, set the carousel lullaby to play, and rocked Cassie to sleep, a strand of tinsel twisted in her glossy black hair.

#merryChristmas, #happybirthdaycassie, #birthdaycake, #thumbelinadoll, #wheresmommie, #silverChristmastree, #tinselandlights

Merry Christmas from Tessa and Family

Tessa

It was the best Christmas present Cassie could ever get, a baby sister. But it was the worst Christmas morning ever. Santa didn’t come, and she didn’t get to open her presents; the tree lights weren’t even lit. Instead she had cold eggs and burnt toast while Mrs. Dudek read the paper. Cassie took a bath and put on her plaid taffeta Christmas dress. She hated that dress; it was frilly, and Cassie was not a frilly girly-girl. Plus, it was itchy.
It was exciting, Cassie had to admit, to have a real live baby for Christmas, even though they wouldn’t let her hold it or change its clothes. She got to look at it through a window to the hospital nursery where there were half a dozen other babies. Heath – Daddy – held her so she could see better.
Their baby was swaddled in a pink blanket which meant it was a girl. Cassie was happy she had a sister. She didn’t think she would like having a brother; they peed on everything. Donna had told Cassie this, and Donna had two little brothers so she knew.
Heath lowered Cassie back to her feet and she tipped her head. “What’s her name gonna be?”
“Contessa Rose. We’ll call her Connie.”
“Connie.” Cassie practiced the name. “Contessa. Cons, Contie, Connie. Tessa.”
She played the variations as they walked back to Marni’s private room.
“Give your mother a kiss and I’ll take you home.”
“But I wanna hold the baby,” Cassie whimpered.
“You can hold her when we come home.”
Cassie was sure that meant she wouldn’t be coming back to the hospital, and that the next time she saw the baby would be at home.
Cassie folded her arms across her chest and pouted.
“Cass, put your coat on so we can go.” Heath was fatigued from pacing the waiting room for five hours. Marni slept off the effect of her epidural; he had yet to be afforded the luxury.
But Cassie flopped in the chair by the window.
“Santa didn’t even come. I don’t want to go home.”
“But Santa did come. He brought your sister.”
Cassie huffed. “I wanted a Barbie Dream House.”
Marni mumbled, her eyes fluttered.
“Cassie, don’t argue.” She fumbled for her plastic cup of water, and Heath held the straw to her lips. “Be a good girl.”
Cassie slid her arms into her red pleated coat with the faux fur collar and pulled on her black Cossack hat and mittens. She started for the door, and turned to kiss her mother on the cheek.
“Did you see your sister?” Marni tried, she really did, to engage with her elder daughter.
“Yeah, I saw her. She’s cute.” She waved at Mommie as she turned toward the door, her gaze on the floor.
Marni sighed. “Cassie,” she called weakly. Cassie paused, looked back at her mother. “Happy Birthday.”

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BOOK REVIEW – INDIE PUBLISHING HANDBOOK

Indie Publishing Handbook: Four Key Elements for the Self-Publisher

“I’ve been thrown in the deep end. Of a deep ocean. In a tidal wave. And all I want to do is write my stories. … Write a bio, they say. What do you want to know? I write, that’s what I do.” That was the opening to my first blog post as an author. [Drowning, 041114] Write a bio, Tweet on Twitter, blog a blog, track sales, run specials, host events, attend events by other writers – the list never ends! And let’s not forget marketing! I jumped in headlong without knowing what I was doing.

Indie Publishing Handbook will help keep a new author from that deep end of the ocean. It provides clear and succinct phases of the process to successfully get your “baby” to market and in the hands of readers. And turn those readers into fans who will stay with you throughout your writing career. What is overwhelming and insurmountable becomes doable and ‘mountable.’ Broken down into distinct and clear-cut chunks, the beast of publishing becomes tamed.

Heather Day Gilbert has provided a concise summation of four key elements for launching a successful Indie writing career. She mentions at the start, there are “ever-changing details” and encourages the would-be or newbie Indie to stay up-to-date of the never-ending tide that is this business. Ms. Gilbert emphasizes the investment of time – “don’t rush the process.” She walks her reader through each key element with simple-to-follow steps.
You won’t be disappointed with Indie Publishing Handbook, and will refer to it time and again as you begin your writing and publishing venture.


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