Leta P. Hawk's Blog, page 15
March 25, 2016
Persephone Faith: Fearless, Faithful, Feisty
“By the power of peppermint mocha, I am Persephone Faith.” With a shaking hand, I raise my white porcelain travel mug in a salute to the heavens and take a sip of the ambrosia that fuels my bravado. As the minty caffeine-infused liquid warms my throat, I feel its power flow through my veins to still my quivering nerves.
Opening my eyes, I take a deep breath and tug open the door labeled “GLOW Youth Ministry.” A cacaphony of voices spills out into the hallway, echoing in my ears and seemingly pressing against me, forbidding me to enter the room. Will this be like the last time? I ask myself. Will they judge me and cast me out when they find out who I really am?
Give them a chance, Percy Faith. Granny-Belle’s voice comes to mind, momentarily soothing my disquieted soul. Let them get to know you before you make rash judgments.
But Granny-Belle, it’s never a question of me giving them a chance. The question is, will they give me a chance?
I take another sip from my mug and steel myself to enter the room, whispering, “I am Persephone Faith. I am fearless. I am faithful. I am feisty.”
Holding my head high, I step inside the room. My gaze sweeps across the room, scanning the faces of the teenagers scattered about on cast-off sofas, sitting on bar stools at a counter, or engaged in assorted games. I am looking for someone, anyone who looks amiable enough to approach.
Finally, someone looks my way. My lips start to curl up in a smile, ready to introduce myself, but her expression suddenly shifts from open friendliness to disdain, and she exclaims, “Oh my God. What are you supposed to be?”
My resolve crumbles. I can’t do this. I’m not fearless, I’m not feisty, and my faith is gone. I am a coward. I turn to run from the room and run headlong into someone.
Before I can apologize, the person I ran into throws an arm around my shoulder and addresses the girl who just spoke. “Watch your language, Talia. We’re in church, you know.” I raise my gaze to meet that of my savior, a tall boy with dirty blond hair that falls over his eyes. He smiles down at me. “We’re glad you could join us. My name is Ethan; what’s yours?”
My resolve suddenly returns, and I think that Ethan might be as powerful an elixir as my peppermint mocha. I give him the smile that Granny-Belle says could charm the skin off a snake and reply. “Hello. My name is Persephone Faith Blackwell.”
March 24, 2016
The Day I Faced Down Fear
I am an INFP. One of the truest aspects of my personality type is that I hate conflict. I would rather run and hide than ever meet a tough situation head on. My INFP tendencies have followed me right in to my writing career.
Ghosts have been a fascination for me since I first saw one as a young child. As a teenager and a young adult, I read a lot of novels which centered on a ghost or haunted house. So naturally, when I began writing in earnest, my genre of choice was paranormal mystery. I’ve always loved stories in which a ghost is present because there is a mystery to be solved.
So where’s the conflict?
Well, to make a long story short, my belief and interest in ghosts has gotten me into trouble with some of my church-affiliated friends and acquaintances. (If you want the long story, you can read it here.) So how was I going to deal with being published and having my name out there, attached to novels that deal with the very topic that caused such a stir in my religious life?
I took a pen name. Granted, that was not the only reason I decided to use Leta Hawk instead of Deb/Debra/D.S. Lerew, but in all honesty, it was a big one. It was always in the back of my head that eventually folks would put two and two together, and the cat would be out of the bag, but I would cross that bridge ( or run away from it) when I came to it.
Fast forward about a year, after I’d released two paranormal mysteries under my pen name. I’ve been promoting on my Facebook author page, on Twitter, and here on my blog, but I never shared things from my author page onto my personal Facebook page, hoping to keep the mask on and avoid the inevitable conflict. It honestly killed me inside that I couldn’t share my events or my successes with my friends at church, because I was afraid of the disapproval I knew would come.
Until something happened about a month ago. Another author friend and I had book tables at a local book sale in a church setting. The pastor of that church is also a writer, and he writes what he calls “dark parables,” so he understands my predicament. Since this was a bit out of the way, I was sure that no one I knew would actually show up, so I had no worries for the day.
Well, towards the end of the day, I looked up and saw someone I recognized from one of my church-related activities. My heart stopped. What if she saw me? What if she came over to talk to me? What if she picked up my book and realized that I write about…ghosts? I was on the verge of diving under the table and hiding until she left, when something rose up in me.
“I’m done,” I declared to my friend. “I’m taking control of this right now.” I stood up and walked over to my friend, intending to “bust myself out,” and let the chips fall where they may.
I greeted my friend warmly, and she did the same. Then she asked if I was working the book sale. I took a deep breath and replied, “No, I’m actually one of the visiting authors.”
Her eyes lit up, and she said, “Why, that’s wonderful! What do you write?”
Another deep breath, and I answered almost apologetically, “I write ghost stories.”
Expecting condemnation, I held my breath and waited. Her smile broadened, and she said, “Well, good for you! I’m so happy for you! I’ll come over and check out your books in a bit.”
Shell-shocked, I returned to my table, looking, I suppose, as though I’d seen a ghost. I told my friend what had happened, and something inside me shifted. I felt as though chains had fallen from me. I had done the unthinkable and shared the heart and soul of my writing to someone I was certain would disapprove, and the world hadn’t ended.
I wish I could say I have completely abandoned my flight-over-fight worldview, even if only in my writing life, but I have not. I have begun to speak a bit more freely of my chosen genre and to share, even with people at my church, that I am indeed a writer or **shudder** ghost stories, but I still have a ways to go.
But I can finally say that there is hope for this avoider of conflict.
March 19, 2016
Poem: How Agile Is Your Tongue?
My tongue surrounds
The small, flexible cherry stem,
Bending it against its will
In a futile attempt
To pull it into a loop.
Once, twice, a dozen times
Stem and tongue entwine
In this dance of determination.
The once-firm pedicle
Turns pulpy
From my perseverance.
Small strips peel off
And stick between my teeth,
But still the tiny stem
Twists stubbornly away.
Just as I’m about to surrender
And count myself among
The unskilled,
The stem surrenders,
Slipping almost effortlessly
Into a loop. I pull the knot
Tighter between teeth and tongue.
Only one question:
Why has such
A petty accomplishment
Earned looks of admiration
From so many male acquaintances?
March 18, 2016
Dance of the Skies
The skies have fascinated me for as long as I can remember. From childhood all the way into young adulthood, I often spent hours gazing at stars on summer–or even winter–nights. The dance of constellations across the sky tickled my imagination, and I came to view them as friends, especially Orion, whom I still greet on frosty winter nights when I walk the dog. Someday I will have a fancy camera to take pictures of my nighttime visions.
Weather, too, creates a dance in the sky that I am compelled to watch. Clouds and colors, snow and rain, all create their own intricate steps. The photo above was taken the day before the January 2016 blizzard began. “Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.” We don’t live in an area where sailors work; still the saying is familiar, and the dance of red, pink, and orange that morning proved correct an old adage.
Fog is often beautiful as it obscures my surroundings. While I don’t like driving in it, especially at night, I do love watching it swirl along the mountains near our home.
Extreme weather both interests and terrifies me. I went outside one summer evening and saw these mammatus clouds swirling above my house. I had seen many photos of them and thought they were beautiful, but I never expected to see them here in Pennsylvania. I almost felt dizzy as I watched them; the scene was so surreal.
The skies provide the perfect stage for the never-ending dance of wind and weather, and sun, moon, and stars.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/dance/
March 17, 2016
Alien Like Me–Cover Reveal
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With the Earth still recovering from an alien invasion, one boy goes about life the only way he knows how. Survival. It’s working well until he realizes that the aliens have seemingly singled him out. Now he is left with the decision of staying the path he has picked for himself, or venturing into the unknown. Once he makes the decision, his life will change dramatically. But is it for better or worse?
Release date: April 30
Connect with Sherilyn Putnam:
https://twitter.com/SherilynPutnam
https://www.facebook.com/sherilynputnam/
March 16, 2016
Envy
Envy can make you do strange things.
I have three brothers. Growing up, two of them had the most gorgeous shade of natural red hair I’d ever seen. The third brother had dark brown hair, but his beard would grow in with a distinct reddish hue.
Then there was me. Plain-faced Deb with plain, mousy-brown hair. I hated it. I envied my brothers with their striking red hair. It wasn’t fair. They bemoaned being saddled with hair that stood out, while I languished over being the one who could disappear in a group of three people.
Finally, over Spring Break during my Freshman year of college, I decided I would be envious no more. I went to my hairdresser and told her I wanted red hair. Not fire-engine red, or Bozo the Clown red; I wanted Sarah Ferguson red (I was a big follower of the Royal Family at the time).
Little more than an hour later, I emerged from the salon with the fiery red hair I’d always desired, and I loved it. I thought it was beautiful, and I was sure everyone else would think so.
The first person who obviously thought otherwise was my father. When he drove up to pick me up (no, I didn’t have my driver’s license yet), he took one look at my hair I exclaimed, “I hope to God that washes out! I have two boys who hate their red hair, and what the hell do you do? You go out and DYE your hair.”
Okay. Well, that’s just Dad. Dads are supposed to disapprove of their kids’ choices, right? Right? It will be different when I get back to college.
When Spring Break was over, my brother and I headed back to Susquehanna University (we both attended there). A few friends commented on my hair–some positively, some negatively–but I really didn’t get the reaction I expected.
Especially from my brother’s crowd.
I was involved in one of the campus ministries with my brother and his friends, so I often hung out with them. So, the first time we got together after Spring Break, one of them commented, “Did you do something to your hair over Spring Break?”
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
“I thought so,” she said. “A new haircut?”
Really? “Well, I got a little trimmed, but nothing major.”
Another friend piped up. “You got a perm?”
Does my freakin’ hair look curly? “No, that’s not it either.”
A third offered, “You’re wearing it parted differently, right?”
This was ridiculous. “No, guys. I dyed it red.”
They all looked at me funny. The first friend said, “No you didn’t. You’ve always had red hair. Just like your brother.” When I gave her an incredulous look, she added, “Well…what color was your hair?”
I felt absolutely deflated as I informed my friends that I’d had brown hair. They all looked at each other, unable to recall that I’d been a brunette just a couple weeks ago.
Now I had another crisis of identity. At least they saw my brother as an independent, stand-alone person. It didn’t matter what color my hair was. The problem was that they didn’t see me as just Deb; they saw me as Gary’s little sister, Deb.
Now, it seemed I had another reason to envy my brother.
March 15, 2016
Getting Seasonal
Daily Post: Getting Seasonal
Do you miss the holiday season when it’s months away? When you’re in the midst of holiday madness, do you enjoy it, or can’t wait for it to be over?
Yesterday, I grabbed a MacIntosh apple out of the fridge as a quick pick-me-up snack while I was writing. I took my first bite…and was immediately transported to October. “MacIntosh apples taste like autumn,” I thought as I enjoyed my snack.
And then there is was.
The little kid in me was skipping ahead to the holiday season, which in my mind begins with Labor Day. I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking that the months of September through December (or January, if you want to count New Year) are just a tumble-jumble of holidays in quick succession. When I was a child in school, it seemed we barely got the school year off to a start, before we were coloring ships for Columbus Day, then making ghosts, jack-o’lanterns, and black cats for Halloween, followed by Pilgrims, Indians (sorry, Native Americans), and turkeys for Thanksgiving, and finally Christmas trees, snowflakes, and Santas for Christmas.
It was fun back then, and to an extent, it’s still fun now. Along about September, I begin to get excited again for the upcoming holidays. I start scouring the craft stores for yarn, paints, fabric, and whatever else I can find to whip up fun crafts.I align my wardrobe for whatever the next special day is, and I listen to the appropriate music.
And I do miss the holiday season when it’s past. Winter somehow seems so long–after Christmas, the days seem to drag–and even summer feels like it goes along forever. At least we have Valentine’s Day and Easter, but those two days just don’t carry the weight of excitement like The Big Three–Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
So if you happen to see me along about the middle of March, and I’m singing Halloween songs or Christmas carols, don’t worry; I haven’t cracked up. I’m just getting a bit seasonal.
March 11, 2016
Review: The Ghost of Marlow House
Danielle Boatman inherits a house by the sea that she intends to turn into a B & B. However, when she and her friend Lily arrive to ready the house for opening, she discovers that Walt Marlow–who has been dead for ninety years–is still in residence, and doesn’t realize he is no longer among the living. Before Walt can move on, Danielle has to help him prove that he did not commit suicide, but was in fact murdered. As she investigates the mystery surrounding his death, she discovers that the house holds other mysteries as well, and she is not the only one interested in solving them.
I started this book while in the hospital waiting room when my husband was having surgery. The plot and characters pulled me in right away, and I had a hard time putting the book down. I love ghost stories, especially ones which involve a mystery that must be solved before the spirit can move on. I loved the way the author wove the plot, including details of Oregon history along the way. I thought I had the whodunit part figured out early on, but I was proven wrong. There were enough plot twists to keep the story interesting, but not so many that I became confused.
March 10, 2016
Surprised By an Award
This has been a bit of a rough week for reasons I won’t get into here and now, so what a pleasant surprise to learn that Hawk’s Happenings has been nominated for The Versatile Blogger Award!
Thank you so much to Jennifer, who writes the wonderful thepsychomother blog for nominating me!
The requirements for this award are:
Thank my nominator.
Share the award on my blog.
State 7 things about myself.
Nominate 10 other bloggers.
Seven Facts About Leta Hawk:
I am fascinated with most things paranormal, especially ghosts, cryptids, UFOs, and witches, not necessarily in that order.
Some of my favorite places include Gettysburg, St. Augustine, and Lock Haven, PA..
At one time, I had firm intentions to earn a Masters in British Literature, with a concentration in Arthurian Legends. My thesis was to be about the changing attitudes and treatment of women, especially Queen Guinivere, in the legends throughout the centuries.
I have Chronic Lyme Disease, which is currently in remission, and have done some advocacy for improved diagnosis and treatment.
While my first love is creative writing, I am also very interested in the earth sciences, especially meteorology.
I am a Christ-Follower, but I am also interested in alternative forms of healing, especially herbs and crystals. I know many people think they are incompatible, but I’m not so sure.
My musical tastes are quite varied and run from Barry Manilow (see Oh No! Oh No! I’ve Killed Barry Manilow!) to Aerosmith to 2Cellos to Big Bam Boo, and pretty much anything in between.
The 10 Blogs that I would like to nominate for Versatile Blogger are:
Shonda Brock Paranormal Romance Author
Bean’s Book Shelf and Coffee Break
Again, thank you so much, Jennifer, for handing me a bright spot in a less-than-stellar week. Best wishes to you, and to all my readers, for a wonderful rest of the week.
