Megan Cyrulewski's Blog, page 11

4-Star Review From an Amazon Top 100 Reviewer

"Megan Cyrulewski offers more than a memoir in this book WHO AM I? This is an important diatribe of spousal abuse and its consequences. Megan chose not to hold back in telling us about her courtship and eventual marriage to Tyler, a Narcotics Addict who attended Narcotics Anonymous meetings but who also suffered from Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

After entering a marriage with Tyler who wiped out their savings by paying off debts, couldn't keep jobs, constantly physically abused Megan who was trying to follow her dream of becoming a lawyer, the two decide that after a year it is time to make a baby. The rest of the book is how their baby was the foundation for Megan's surviving post-partum depression, anxiety disorder, panic attacks, visits to the psych ward, divorce, and domestic violence, it was the arrival of Madelyne Rose that centered Megan `s life and gave her the courage to eventually begin to live again.

Megan writes this book as inspiration to women who are facing like challenges, and as such it is a difficult story to complete, so desperately sad is the bulk of it. But the manner in which Megan ties it together with that insurmountable bond between a mother and child makes the journey rewarding." - Grady Harp

http://www.amazon.com/Who-Am-Daughter-Taught-Again/dp/1626941513/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1413585711&sr=8-1&keywords=megan+cyrulewski

I Just Need One Minute of Your Time...

Remember when you were young and made a bunch of mistakes, errors in judgment, etc.?  Usually, we chalk those up to learning experiences.  Well, think for a moment - what if a quick error in judgment led to a life-changing circumstance?  Meet Al.  That's exactly what happened to him.  One mistake made in a moment of youthful laughter and fun landed Al in a wheelchair as a quadriplegic.  

I met Al about 10 years ago.  He is kind.  He has an infectious laugh.  He has a hug for everyone he meets.  And he's never felt sorry for himself.  Every year, his family holds an annual pig roast as a fundraising event to help alleviate Al's medical bills.  Throughout the year, the family also has card tournaments to help with the costs.  So needless to say, I was surprised when this fundraising campaign popped up on my Facebook page the other day.

I've looked at a ton of online fundraisers and the most common line is, "I don't normally ask for help."  I can attest that this is 100% true in this case.  This family has never asked for help.  I honestly thought they were raising enough money through various fundraisers.  Unfortunately, insurance only covers a portion of Al's medical needs; and the costs keep rising.

Now it's my turn to say, "I don't normally ask for help."  I worked in the non-profit sector for 8 years.  I'm a pro at asking people for money.  It was my job - and I got burnt out.  I left that world a long time ago.  However, I believe in Al and his family so much, that I'm once again asking all of you for your help.

Al has been approved for a new wheelchair and while his insurance will cover some of the cost, he still has to find a way to come up with $10,000-$15,000.  He also needs a new van with a hydraulic lift.  It's his only mode of transportation to get to work.  If he can't work, he loses his job.  If he loses his job, he loses his insurance.  

So on behalf of Al and his wonderful family, I'm asking you to please donate.  A $5 donation goes a long way.  I get 10,000 visitors per week on my website.  If 5,000 of you donate $5, that's $25,000!  We can do this but we have to work together. I will kick it off with a $25 donation.  I will also offer two $50 gift cards for Amazon as prizes.  At the end of the campaign, two generous people who donate (no matter the amount) will win a $50 Amazon gift card each.  Think about it:  donate $5 today and in a month, just in time for Christmas, you could win a $50 Amazon gift card!  

Who's ready to donate?
http://www.gofundme.com/frpwqk

*Please share this post on your social media sites.  Thank you!

"The Choices We Have, Make and Must Live With" by Kirk W. Spencer (Guest Post)

First of all, allow me to apologize for not posting more often.  Many times I have thoughts I’d love to write about, but for any one of many reasons, or excuses, they never appear here.

This morning, when I awoke, the following thoughts were on my mind; thoughts that actually started yesterday, developed into a couple of pictures being put together, then quoting myself.  I then posted that picture-quote in one of my other blogs.  I thought that would be the end of those thoughts, but gladly, they’re not.

Many of us have grown up reading and have been taught the various “stories” of creation and their meanings, and the “story” of how the fall of humanity happened and what that means to us.  Building from that thought, without posting quotations, I invite you toconsider the following.

In simple form, Adam and Eve were created in, and to live in the quintessential paradise, a ‘Heaven on Earth’.  Our Creator told them in simple terms, “You can consume anything in the garden that you want (He even whet their appetites with all that grows there), but DON’T eat the fruit of just ONE particular tree.

Okay, now that we have the basic’s reestablished, let’s move on.

Let’s take a look at somethings that most of us overlook, but also are the main thoughts I’m presenting for your consideration:

Adam and Eve were created perfect and given paradiseThey knew nothing elseWhat was life like before their choice?Why did Eve choose as she did?Why did Adam choose as he did?The end results… sounds long doesn’t it?  :D  It won’t be… continue on ;)

Imagine (“… if you will…”) a place full of color, no pollution and nothing to stick you, including possibly not even a mosquito.  Imagine seeing not only the physical splendor of your home, but beyond that… energy flowing, ebbing… colors we can barely imagine now, because our physical eyes, hearing and all other senses have limitations – that is, they only respond to certain stimuli – light, sound – vibrations/frequencies.  With the ability toexperience the world in such a broad spectrum, is there any wonder that they noticed aftereating that forbidden fruit, their senses have become dulled? With the ability to see energy flowing everywhere, including being the ‘clothing’ they knew, then the ability now gone, wouldn’t you notice that you are “naked”?  Does this sound far-fetched to you?  Why?  After all, the text does say that they, Adam and Eve were created in our Creator’s likeness, yes?

There they are, two perfect beings living in a perfect place.   They even had somethings to do – keep the place up, care for all that was created before them, and enjoy.  They had only one limitation – don’t eat the one thing that will bring your fall from perfection.

So, why did they make that fateful choice?  They knew nothing else.  Many people I know love to say, “The Devil made me do it!”  For sure, that’s the easiest way to ‘solve’ the question, blame someone else, but that doesn’t work.  They were created perfect, in a perfect place – they knew nothing of death, degeneration, and the world has never appeared any different to them… till after they ate the wrong thing.  So why did they ‘sin’ [miss the mark] ?

I’ll venture to say that it was curiosity.  Their personal curiosity that was such a strong “feeling” that the desire became their “god” [of the moment].  That ONE thing that took them away from their simple duty, obligation to self;  that which kept them close to The Creator.  Their decision, no matter whether it was a serpent that tempted Eve, or Adam felt he couldn’t live without Eve – for whatever reason he chose to follow her, he did.  Their personal desires purposely or not, challenged the one law/rule/limitation given them, and that was THEIR choice that brought their fall.

We have choices to make several times per day.  YOUR choices take you and those around you down a path of no return – unlike a computer which you can erase a program, or delete a letter, number, sentence, paragraph, and so on.

If you want a better life, consider your choices… remember your choices and your simple rules and laws in life:

You already know what is right and wrong, even if someone taught you differently.  Life and Love are the most precious things, or “commodities” (if you like to think in this manner) given us.  Neither are to be used as instruments of control over others;We don’t have time-machines, so we can’t undo what has been [or will be] done.  Choose well;If you want a better life, make it start with your thoughts, then make your actions follow the best of your thoughts and decisions lest you fall from your current…

NOTE: 

The past is gone – unchangeable, so don’t become depressed:

The future hasn’t arrived, so don’t be anxious.

Live the present moment.  Be happy, love life and all others, starting with our Creator to the smallest creature.  Think of it this way:  All life has one source and like you, all has an individual purpose.

As always,

All the best!

Self-Publishing: A Guest Post by Diane Stresing

As I've tweeted, bleated, ballyhooed, mentioned oh-so-casually, and at times lamented, I wrote and published a collection of essays earlier this year. Self-published, mind you.
 
Why? Well, who’s the patron saint of lost causes? Maybe that’s who you should ask.
 
I’m only half-joking.
 
Self-publishing is pretty darned easy compared to a lot of things (brain surgery, or getting a Suzanne Collins-sized publishing contract) but turning your self-published book into a bona fide money-maker is no picnic. That said, would I do it again? You can bet on it. Really. I have plans.
 
I also plan to continue to peddle some of my manuscripts to traditional publishing houses. See, I like to hedge my bets. The publishing industry has changed more than almost anything in the past 20 years, and I don’t have a crystal ball. I have several manuscripts I think worthy of publication, though – and while I’d love to see a big fat contract with my name on it, I’d also like to see my stories in print sooner rather than later.
 
If you’re investigating your options regarding self-publishing, I highly recommend spending a few (or more) hours reading thoughtful pieces about your options, because they vary wildly in terms of technology, financial investment, and process – all of which affect the final product.
 
##
 

Diane Stresing worked with a traditional publisher to get her first book,  60 Hikes within 60 Miles of Cleveland , into print. Her second title, Dumb Things We Say to Dogs, was published in 2014.  You can reach Diane via Twitter or through her Dumb Facebook page.

Featured Artist of the Month - Jennifer Lagerbohm, owner of Pikkupoika Knits

You know how people say you're either a math and science person or an artist?  Well, my Featured Artist of the Month doesn't live by that saying.  She is an environmental scientist, but also an artist.  Jennifer's art is fiber-knitting and crochet.  She owns a business called Pikkupoika Knits and she makes adorable hats for kids or gorgeous shawls like the one Jennifer is wearing in the picture.  It's interesting how I met Jennifer.  Her friend Amanda, owner of Little Bird Soul, was my featured artist of the month in July.  I was looking through the pictures on Pikkupoika Knits's Facebook page and lo and behold, there was a picture of Amanda wearing a beautiful shawl.  I continued scrolling through the pictures and found myself liking almost every single item!  Let's just say I've already started my Christmas list.  I hope you enjoy meeting Jennifer as much as I did!

What is your name?  
Jennifer Lagerbohm

Where are you from? 
Rochester Hills, Michigan

What is your art? 
Fiber- knitting and crochet

How long have you been in business? 
I have been knitting and crocheting for about 6 years, and started Pikkupoika Knits in 2011. Pikkupoika is a Finnish word meaning “little boy”.

Why are you an Artist?  
I love creating clothing and accessories that are one-of-a kind. I love to mix colors, styles, and use natural yarns to make special pieces for those I love.  I also love teaching about knitting and sharing my passion for the art.

What inspires you? 
I am most inspired by nature. I love the idea that I can take plant-based fibers that have been spun into yarn to create clothing and toys. I incorporate natural elements into my work by using cotton and plant-based yarns. I strive to use organic cotton in as much as I can. I knit outside and draw on colors found in nature. I don’t shy away from hot pinks or lime greens, but I tend to pair those with softer hues.

How do you want your clients to feel about your work?  
I want them to feel special- that the piece I made for them was something that they couldn’t get at the mall. I want them to feel like they are being hugged when they wear a cowl or shawl I knit. I want kids to feel safe and warm when they are wearing a hat or mittens that I made.

What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring artists/business owners? 
Pikkupoika Knits is a side business for me, so I am not sure how much advice  have to give. I have a full-time job as an environmental scientist and two small children. I enjoy that I keep my business small because I don’t want my knitting to ever become a chore or add more stress to life. So, I guess my advice would be to keep loving what you do and it will never feel like a job.  

Share one thing about yourself that you would like people to know.
I am a scientist by degree and have a pretty strong math and engineering background. I think I am most drawn to knitting because of the math involved. I really love mixing components from multiple patterns and re-creating them to fit an order. 

Where can people find you? 
They can find me teaching knitting at Skeins on Main in Rochester, Michigan  and my hats are sold at Mother & Earth Baby in Lansing, Michigan. I post photos and information on my FB page and Etsy.
www.facebook.com/pikkupoikaknits
www.etsy.com/shop/pikkupoikaknits

What Domestic Violence Awareness Month Means to a Survivor

1.3 million women are victims of domestic violence every year.  According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence:

Domestic violence is the willful intimidation, physical assault, battery, sexual assault, and/or other abusive behavior perpetrated by an intimate partner against another. It is an epidemic affecting individuals in every community, regardless of age, economic status, race, religion, nationality or educational background. Violence against women is often accompanied by emotionally abusive and controlling behavior, and thus is part of a systematic pattern of dominance and control. Domestic violence results in physical injury, psychological trauma, and sometimes death. The consequences of domestic violence can cross generations and truly last a lifetime.

I was a victim of emotional abuse for 6 long years.  My ex-husband traumatized me so much by his intimidation and words, I landed in the psych ward three times.  I tried to kill myself because I believed I was worthless.  It took 10 strangers in a group therapy session to tell me that I was a victim of domestic violence.  

I am so passionate about getting my message out because I guarantee that while you are reading this, you or someone you know is in an domestic violence relationship.  I opened myself to the world in my book.  I let you see my vulnerabilities.  I let you feel my pain.  I let you know that I'm not perfect and that I made my share of mistakes as well.  But I did not, nor does any woman or man, deserve to be emotionally or physically abused.  

I have not gotten closure from my ex-husband and probably never will.  All I ask of him is one thing:

LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME YOU'RE SORRY

Look at me and tell me you're sorry,
Tell me I don't need to worry.
You lost your temper one time,
The rest of our marriage will be fine.

Look at me and tell me I lack self worth.
Tell me that I'm the worst thing on this earth.
When I married you, I meant something,
After a while, you made me feel like nothing.

Look at me and tell me you're happy.
You wanted to become a daddy.
After she was born you didn't care,
Living with you became a nightmare.

Look at me and tell me you're gone,
Before I even filed, you had already moved on.
I know I never meant anything to you,
You cast me aside when you were through.

Look at me and tell me I'm weak,
I'm in the psych ward, I'm crazy, I'm a freak.
But something happened while I was away
I opened my eyes and realized that I was okay.

Look at me and tell me I'm to blame,
You've turned child custody into a game.
You thought if you yelled loud enough, you would win
You underestimated my strength within.

Look at me and and tell me I'm a bad mom,
You expect me to cry, yet I'm calm.
I no longer care what you say,
Your thoughts and words get in the way.

I look at you and even though we are far apart,
I have no room for hate in my heart.
But sometimes I wonder secretly,
Will you ever look at me and say you're sorry?

Every day for the month of October, I will give away a free copy of my book.  Please contact me though my website if you would like a free copy.  All I ask is after you read it, pass it on to someone you know who might be a domestic violence victim.  

Please read my story of survival, for I am not a victim of Domestic violence.  I am a survivor.

AMAZON BUY LINK:  http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=megan+cyrulewski

Blog Tour for Monna Ellithorpe

Monna Ellithorpe started quilting in 1985 after watching and learning from a friend.  The more she watched and asked questions, the more she liked the idea of cutting out those pieces and putting back them back together like "puzzle pieces." 

After many failed attempts at making a Double Wedding ring quilt by traditional methods, she decided there had to be an easier and faster way to do this.  Everyone else had a "short-cut" method to speed up the piecing process, so why not this particular pattern?  

She finally created this easier method to make a double wedding ring faster and able to be put together block by block and using the "quilt as you go" method if preferred. 

I hope you enjoy this Book, find it helpful and inspiring.  Wishing you much success in making your own Double Wedding ring quilt. 


AUTHOR BIO
Monna Ellithorpe has been writing in journals, diaries and creating short stories since her teen years.  She didn't have the "happily ever after" life she had dreamed of the first time in marriage, so writing became a way to release the never ending ideas, thoughts and sentences that rambled around in her mind; waiting to find a place in a story.  

She is an ordinary person who has suffered depression, anxiety disorder, panic attacks, divorce and loneliness; to finally find the true love of her life the second time around and lose him two days after they were married.  His death was a direct result of 30 years of faithful service and protection of our Country and the feelings of abandonment and betrayal from an ungrateful government.  They had a total of five years together (not long enough) and even knowing the outcome, she would do it again to love and feel the returned love of this very special man.  Still struggling with her loss, Monna has chosen to write and share her story so that others may realize you can survive and even though life is not like she planned, it can be good again by helping others.

Her first book published in 2003 was a different technique to make a Double Wedding Ring Quilt easier and faster.  She still didn't realize that her purpose in life was to write until after the death of her beloved second husband in 2008.  It was then that she started to seriously pursue a career in writing.  

Monna lives in Fort Myers, FL., continues to write short stories, articles and working on her first fiction/historical fiction novel, along with helping others to publish their books and teaching different classes online to help make life easier for writers.  9/2014

BUY and CONTACT LINKS
AMAZON:  http://doubleweddingringquilts.com
Amazon Author Page:  http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0078G3JZ2
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/monna-ellithorpe?store=allproducts&keyword=monna+ellithorpe
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/monnaellithorpe
Blog: http://monnaellithorpe.com and http://monnaellithorpe.com/bluejeanwritervoice

Twitter: msellithorpe
Facebook Profile:  https://www.facebook.com/monna.ellithorpe.1
Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/BlueJeanWriter.MonnaEllithorpe
LinkedIn:  https://www.linkedin.com/in/monnaellithorpe
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+MonnaEllithorpe

Authors Supporting Authors: Anker Frankoni

I was a little worried when I woke up this morning because I knew I needed to post something on my blog but I didn't know what!  Then to my surprise, when I opened up my inbox, Ankar's e-mail was waiting for me.  Ankar and I have been trying to have this interview since July but with his schedule and my schedule - well, at least we were FINALLY able to interview!  Just a little warning:  There is so profanity in this interview so definitely not for little eyes to read.  :)  I hope you enjoy meeting Anker as much as I did!


What is your name? 
Anker Frankoni

Where are you from? 
North America

What genre are you in?
Literary Fiction

Please list your books and the year of publication.
“Mexican Eskimo Book 1: Exmikan”
2014

Why are you an Author?
This isn't an easy question to answer, but since so much of "Mexican Eskimo" is about facing Truth, I'll be frank.
The impetus to begin writing came about gradually, and not necessarily by choice. It was the result of internal conflicts that began during an intense period of self-analysis and research into the side of my family that I never really knew growing up, as I attempted to answer the very difficult question that exploded into my reality in June of 2004: "Why the hell did my mother shoot herself — didn't she have everything??"

The crush of emotions that followed eventually settled into analytical thoughts. Soon after, those began expressing themselves as scraps of notes, pieced together from my memories and the pieces of her own writing that Anne left behind. It wasn't long before the notes became passages, compiled page after page as my discoveries continued.

Before long, I received the instruction (from myself, and signals originating far outside my head, the source of which I still do not entirely understand) that I was to write a book.  The end result of this process is the first release of a planned trilogy, "Mexican Eskimo", which in many ways is simply a story about growing up. It's also a love story about finding trust and hope amidst generations of anger and neglect, suicide and substance abuse. It's a trip through the dark which ends up in the light however, and ultimately a joyful statement about something I'd like to share with anyone forced to grapple with the pain and stigma of abuse in their family's history: the violation of innocence creates broken families and damaged people. Those who are thrust into the middle of such cycles have a hard time breaking the chain and creating new positive family stories, but with love, patience, and the willingness to look beyond the blame and anger that many
of us rightly feel towards the people we come from, and hold a mirror up to our own faces, it can be done!

What inspires you?
While living in Mexico in 2009, I was driving alone back from Texas to my wife and kids in San Miguel de Allende. On a long stretch of highway over the Altiplano, some ways north of the border between the states of San Luis Potosí and Guanajuato, I narrowly missed being involved in a deadly accident. A truck overloaded with livestock traveling in the opposite direction careened suddenly across the center divide, flashed across my line of travel no more than ten meters in front of my Jeep, and slammed into a small car in the lane directly next to me. It was one of those experiences where the seconds stretch like hot taffy across the movie-screen of one’s mind: five years later, I have only to close my eyes for a second to bid the visual effects return, and instantly conjure up the slow-motion horror of the old campesino slumped over the steering wheel from the heart-attack or stroke that sent his truck and its fated cargo flying past my windshield;
the pulsating pupils in the eyes of the lone goat who stuck its head through the side-rails to marvel at the last instants before her demise, blazing with an unnatural distortion, like one of the artist Marcos Byrd’s otherworldly stallions.

That incident created a watershed moment for me, and a complete 180-degree shift in a basic mindset I’d held during my entire adult life — for up until then my thoughts of the future had always focused on trying to answer the question, “Where do I want to live?”

I pulled over onto the shoulder, gripping the steering wheel so firmly in the shock that my knuckles shone white as bone. Squinting into the side-view mirror at the flames rising from the wreckage a hundred meters or so behind me, I knew without a doubt that neither driver had survived their dance with death on Mexico’s highway that day.  Managing to loose my hand’s near-deadfast grip on the wheel, I reached with my trembling right arm to pull the one open bottle from the case of Bulleit Bourbon carefully cushioned in the center of the passenger-side floor: one of the spoils of my trip to Texas
—like the two ten-pound bags of lemons—to be savored in the shaded courtyard of our beautiful home in the lovely little city in which we’d been settled for three months, and where the only thing I’d found to complain of was its nearly complete ignorance of stiff liquid delights beyond tequila and lime.

I’d left every bottle of the precious frontier whisky responsibly unopened all the way from Austin, down the long chute of Texas tarmac in the DUI danger-zones of my own country, through the last paranoia-inducing strip of the constantly nervous streets of Laredo leading onto the bridge over the big river, and through the Mexican customs checkpoint. It was only after clearing the immigration counter on the south-side of the Rio Grande and receiving my temporary vehicle import tag for the Jeep’s windshield, then driving out onto the smooth open expanse of the toll-road heading south out of the congested streets of Nuevo Laredo towards Matehuala, where I’d overnight to break up the drive, that I leaned over and yanked the box flap loose on the case of Bulleit and pulled out a bottle. I tucked it between my thighs and cracked the cap, then took a swig to wash down the huge sigh of relief I breathed at the now familiar feeling of freedom that I’d begun to associate with removing myself from the United States once more. 

To celebrate my first full day back in Mexico the next morning, I splashed another rich shot of the liquor into my morning coffee while I breakfasted poolside before leaving the deliciously kitsch Las Palmas Inn to complete the final five hours of travel down highway 57 to San Miguel. Neither of these pleasant recollections about the first few fingers of the bourbon entered the least layers of my consciousness as I sat clutching the bottle and staring at the distant flames dancing in the mirror. I drank only to steady my resolve with a fresh coat of whisky-breath, thereby sealing the requirement that I follow the one clear thought in my mind at that moment: “Nothing good can come of me waiting around to tell the Federales about this mess.” The dead had mingled their fates with one another — I drove on, following mine down the otherwise empty ribbon of concrete threading its way down the spine of that high arid plateau.

For nearly an hour I continued in an almost hallucinatory bubble of stunned silence. My meditation was suddenly shattered by a deep voice, and I flinched in surprise as the words rang out as clearly as if a passenger hiding in my backseat abruptly spoke aloud. I flashed a glance into the rearview mirror, then grabbed it and angled it down for a view
of the empty seat behind me, as the words the presence had uttered so clearly into the back of my head reverberated through my skull: “Where do you want to die?”

A dreadful sense of panic began percolating up my spine as I imagined what vengeful ghost had pursued me from the accident scene I’d just fled, and I fought to keep the Jeep on track as I accelerated dangerously into a steep banking descent carved through a rocky corridor in the ancient altiplano dividing the two chains of the Sierra Madre mountains.

As the road leveled back out of the cut-through in the rough granite outcropping, it was the Madre most associated with Mexico who I think saved me, for every physical impulse demanded that I turn around to search the empty back seat for the specter which had just spoken so clearly, and I would have done so at great peril of joining the dead men I’d left behind, had the Virgin herself not suddenly appeared before me.

A beautiful Descanso, or roadside shrine marking a spot on the highway where another traveler found their final rest on that stretch of desolate Mexican highway suddenly appeared before me, drawing my attention like a beacon to a safe place to pull over and collect myself. I parked in the dirt and walked over to the low arched construction of brightly-painted bricks sheltering a statue of the Virgin Mary, the floor and walls of her tiny temple covered in silk flowers and pictures of the deceased. I relaxed and breathed a cleansing sigh as she stretched her lovely white arms from the folds of her azure robe as if to embrace and protect me, but suddenly the voice boomed out as if directly behind me again: “Where do you want to die?!”

Whirling around to confront the empty space behind me, the sudden thump of my heart and the shock of finding myself alone sent my head reeling as I spun again in search of it. I stumbled forward, catching my fall only by Mary’s grace, and the low brick roof of her sturdy shrine. With my arms stretched like a supplicant before me, I raised my head and saw then for the first time that I’d reached the last major marker of my long drive to San Miguel de Allende. Not two hundred yards down the highway, the big green sign marking the state-line and entry to Guanajuato stretched like a flag of deliverance over the roadway with a proud flourish, and a warm welcome: “GTO ¡Bienvenidos! Tierra de historia, tradiciones y valores” (Welcome to Guanajuato! Land of history, tradition and values).

For a long time afterwards I imagined the epiphany was instantaneous, but I know now some rapid reflections were involved. I pondered my own birth-state’s motto, “Eureka... I have found it!” and its reference to the discovery of gold in California. Was it that manic modern version of chasing Silicon Valley gold that drove me out? What of my own
history, and the seemingly unquenchable grief that dogged me there, and the constant gnawing questions about what led my mother to put a bullet through her heart, despite the fact that she’d laid claim to such a large pile of that gold? And for my values? Who was I, and what kind of a man had California turned me into — one who would drive away from the scene of an accident where bodies lie burning, and I the only witness?!

Panic, now mixed with self-loathing squeezed my heart, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight in an attempt to blot out the dreadful thoughts about my present, my past... my self. And then again the voice rang out! But not to challenge; not to goad or terrify. When it spoke again I received perhaps the only message of faith and the possibility of redemption that one such as I could truly latch onto — I who had lived too blindly for too long through that mad rush for gold and selfish pleasures; shallow substitutes for the true treasures of self-discovery, honor, and upholding values: “It is never too late to
become what you might have been,” the voice told me, and I knew in an instant that regardless of its source, I had just received a great truth.

With my arms still stretched out over the roof of the Marian shrine, and my head now bowed in thanks, I at first spoke my answer in a bare whisper. Then as the thanks blossomed into joy, and the relief turned into a flood of electrically-charged excitement, I flung myself up from the roof of the shrine, hands now outstretched to the heavens and all that lay before me, and shouted as loud as any gold digger ever to strike a bonanza:

“¡Guanajuato!” Then falling to my knees in front of the Virgin Mary, I prayed with the kind of fervor seen only in those who have just discovered that they still have something to believe in, and pleaded aloud to her and any other higher power that may have been listening in: “Mother Mary! Jesus, Siddhartha and all Spirits that control my luck or lack of it, help me to become what I might have been! And if I must strive beyond the limits of this life’s allotment to be it, God give me a head start on the next try! Set my course for rebirth in a land of history, tradition, and values — let me die in Guanajuato!” These last words I cried out as I stretched my arm towards the sign marking the otherwise invisible border dividing the two states, and as I realized how near I was to crossing it, a sudden twinge of worry flashed through my mind as I thought for a second of the special attraction that Irony seemed always to have towards me.

Suddenly fearing that Fate’s finely tuned sense of humor might get a big kick out of the swiftest possible fulfillment of my prayer, I turned again to the merciful Mother Mary with a hasty postscript: “But not just yet! Jesus! Shit not yet! Let me first write something to make this all worthwhile... let me write something worthy of leaving behind!” And then— as long as I had everyone’s attention on the side of that empty road—threw in the extra gimme: “And a hole-in-one! Just once, you guys, just once; let me see the ball fly from my clubface and drop in the hole without touching the surface of this crazy-mad mass of spinning dirt, to bend Time, Space, and the curvature of this blessed Earth to my will for one fleeting instant of pure meaningless glory!”

So.... What drives me? The vision of a few last years, months, or days spent leading up to my eventual death in Guanajuato, Mexico—land of History, Tradition, and Values—and the promise I made to iconic and spiritual forces much greater than myself to strive to create something excellent, and achieve something near impossible; I’m still swinging for the stars.

Where and what times during the day do you work best?
The finished surfaces of my writing are quilts stitched together from what I call ‘snippets and shards.’ The seeds which grew into the first book in the “Mexican Eskimo” trilogy were literally planted on the backs of matchbooks and scraps of torn up envelopes hastily pulled from the garbage can under my day-job desk to catch the puzzle-pieces as they flitted through my head. Today I work with a custom-designed database accessible from any electronic device. If I wake up at 3:00 AM with the answer to a question that the writing has posed to me, or a new question for the writing to draw
myself further into it, I grab my phone and launch the QuickBase app, commit the thought to the cloud, and click save. 

In the morning when I sit down at my computer I arrange the new scraps by connecting them in plot-line-order to the pertinent section or chapter of the book they relate to. When enough of the raw details are sifted and sorted to fill the little mechanical bobbing-bird’s head dipping up and down in my brain to spill the latest set of beans from its beak into something resembling order, it comes out where and when it will, and the only tools I need to capture the result is this computer and a power-source, a set of headphones so I can drown out any noise around me with Billy Blanco’s “Dharma Flamenco” albums or the incredible sounds channeled from our ancestors by Xavier Quijas Yxayotl... and this pack of matches. And my thermos... oh and, the ashtray. And the remote control, and, well — the paddle ball... and this lamp.

Yeah, the computer, my power-source, the Billy Blanco, and the ashtray, this paddle game, and the... remote control, and the lamp! And that's all I need too! I don't need one other thing, not one... I don’t even need my dog.

Who is your target audience?
If you think that some of the greatest truths shared in the collective human consciousness come from fiction; if you don’t believe you’ve found a religion that speaks to your individual sense of all that “God” is, but wonder at the fact that every established religion ever documented has an afterlife or rebirth component and wonder if you’d like to create your own regulation-free plan for just such a probability... if you’ve ever brushed up against something called “regret,” and then realized it’s better to regret something ya have done, than something ya haven’t done... if you appreciate genrebending
literature and magical realism, have ever thought that an animal has communicated with your soul, and don't mind having to poke through the dark underbelly of human-animal-nature to find the light of hope and healing promised at the
end of a difficult emotional journey, well then — you are my target audience.

How do you want your readers to feel as they read your book?
I want readers to feel that they’ve somehow taken a deeper look at their own lives and how they want to live the rest of it as a result of taking a peek into mine.

What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring authors?
Begin by shaping the story in the best way you know how. When it starts to shape you, keep writing, get out of the way, and let the creativity work its magic. You will become something you never dreamed possible.

Share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know.
I sing in the shower... as well as at funerals, book-signings, and in the few sections of the Audible audiobook version of “Mexican Eskimo” where I just couldn’t help myself!

On your website, you have a Character Gallery. Can you explain what that is?
This is a little electronic Descanso if you will: a random shrine on the shoulder of the Internet highway to remember my dead, and a reminder of who I came from and the road I want to walk while I commemorate some of those who went before me, and some whose spirits I’m still working to exorcise from my soul.

Are you currently working on another book?
Yes. Now that “Mexican Eskimo Book 1: Exmikan” has gained a bit of traction online, and has just started finding shelf-space at Indie book stores thanks to a distribution deal with PartnersWest this month, I’m hard at work on the second release in my planned trilogy: "Mexican Eskimo Book 2: Octopus Asylum", which begins....

"We didn't get to make love that morning. It was to be Gia's birthday fuck. A present she was reluctant to either give or receive, having born our third child only 14 days earlier; but she knew it had to happen: one doesn't just blow off the birthday fuck. That was one of the things that first caused me to fall in love with Gia: she said, "What other day can a
pussy draw you so far into the infinite?" and insisted that I should have my birthday fuck just three nights after we met. A seven year ritual between us by then, which started as the sly reminiscence of an inside joke for the first few years, but evolved into something that each of us felt as superstitious about as a chain letter — silly, we knew, but both loath to break it lest some bad bit of luck result... little did we know the curses that would befall our love."

But I'm getting ahead of myself! "Octopus Asylum" is scheduled for release in mid to late 2015... plenty of time for you to read "Mexican Eskimo Book 1: Exmikan" which is available now in print, Kindle, and audiobook formats at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JY8SXBW

How do you balance marketing and writing?
The same way I balance my day-job, sideline business number two, three children, two dogs, and not enough cash left at the end of the winter months to pay someone else to shovel the snow off my driveway: I eat only when I’m hungry, and sleep only when I’m very, very.... Zzzzzzzz.

"Some Shorter Than Others"

INTERVIEW WITH NEVILLE HIATT

What do you plan to do with the funds you raise?
The funds raised will go to recording, editing and producing the stories to a commercial level thus enabling those that choose to or need to utilise audio books to enjoy these heart warming stories.

Why did you write the book?
This book has been a labour of love and thankfully based on an early review this has shown through in the stories. I wanted to write stories that would aid adults in momentarily forgetting about their daily struggles and that kids could also enjoy.

What was your inspiration for the book?
What inspired me to write this book was my need to stay connected with the outside world. Left medically retired at an age when I should be to busy to be laying in bed at 10am on a weekday answering questions, projects like this one are what has kept me going these last few years. I miss being able to see my extended family as much as I would like to be able to and writing these stories has been one way I can stay connected to them.

So whats in it for you?
How about an added incentive of 10 entries into a random draw to win one of only 10 collectors edition copies of the book? http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b981a81/


REVIEWS:

It is good to read material which so obviously comes from the heart. The writing ranges from cute stories for children such as "Sammy", and "Teddy's First Christmas" to the intriguing World War 1 love story"The Blue Dolphin". 
Sylvia's beautiful illustrations add to the reader's enjoyment and appreciation of the prose. 
Frank - Australia

I have just finished reading all your lovely short stories. I wished there were more! They were very delightful, but I could also sense the heart that went into them. They really mean a lot to you. It's hard to pick a favorite, I think it would have to be Jessica with The Blue Dolphin coming in as a close second. 
Sam - Australia

"I wanted to say how much I'm enjoying your "Some Shorter than Others". The writing is simple and engaging and I'm so looking forward to sharing these stories with my grandchildren as well as enjoying them myself. The drawings are just gorgeous."
Helen - Australia.

"I am very privileged to read the Beta copy of this book. The stories are so lovely. Simply written yet with so much to say. Each story has touched my heart, and are beautiful in their childlike, but never childish, viewpoint."
Dawn - USA rated it 5 of 5 stars 

I like how light and child-like it comes across it allows me to think in an uncomplicated way.
Viktor - Germany

"Two Peas in a Pod is beautiful" 
Ellie - Australia
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A Message to you from Neville

I only need 2,935 of your readers to support with $1 each to make this successful, and record these short stories so the visually impaired can enjoy them too. Any assisting at that level will get one of the stories from the book emailed to them for their reading pleasure.

Multiple other rewards including: 
$99+ reward level:  A thank you credit printed in the CD jacket and so much more

 $499+ reward level:  A part voicing a character from one of the stories 

If someone wants to support the whole campaign for $5,555:  One of the original illustrations hand delivered, a personal reading of the book, and a bag of goodies big enough they won't need to do anymore christmas shopping.

Autographed copies of the book are available direct from the author at http://nevillehiatt.com.

Competitions:
A colouring / drawing competition perfect for the school holidays 

A writing competition with a collection of the entrants stories planned to be published in 2015.  

A collectors edition of the book to be won in each competition. 

 Full details at http://nevillehiatt.com 


Here is the donation link - campaign ends 7th oct.
http://someshorterthanothers.pubslush.com/

DRAGONBRIDE Blog Tour - By: Raani York

SYNOPSIS:
Shalima, “Daughter of the Light”, was born under special circumstances. She was raised by her aunts instead of her mother because she needed to be prepared to fulfill the prophecies of the Old Scriptures, which told that she was the only Magician on Earth.

Her aunts carefully prepared her for her obligations and her sacred duty. She will have to get married to the Holy Golden Dragon, the King of the Dragons, a huge Earth Dragon with magical talents. She cannot believe that she is the “Chosen One”, who has to protect the Dragon Species, all of Nature and finally the Earth. But when she turned into a teenager it seemed that the Old Scriptures were right. 
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TEASER:
The mountains possessed a dark but seductive beauty, and they lay in wait for the ones who came through the Fire Hell. The powdered white peaks of the sparkling black mountain-world watched for them with longing.

  The Diamond Mountains gave the illusion of being much closer than they really were, and many a pilgrim had been lured to his death by the promise of riches hidden on their slopes. These mountains were so named because of the rough gems strewn about the black volcanic soil. When the sun shone overhead the gems made the mountains sparkle and shimmer brightly, and at night they made the moonlit mountains glow with a soft silver light.

  People, blinded by both their greed and the tantalizing glittering of the sunlit earth, imagined that there was immeasurable wealth lying there on the ground, just waiting to be picked. However, the mountains never betrayed the secrets they held. None who had ever walked those slopes could find the diamonds hidden within the black soil, for the mountains protected themselves.

  Although healthy forest still grew in the foothills, the undergrowth became sparser just a few hundred feet up, and then the treeline ended. Where stunted trees would normally grow the forest just stopped, as if some unseen hand had cut it short. All that remained were dangerously sharp, dry rocks. Just below the snowline, the rocks disappeared, and the glittering black soil took their place. 

Moreover, at the summit it seemed as if the Creator of All Things had dusted the peaks of the fissured mountain range with powdered sugar, for they were covered with a deceptively soft-looking, yet extremely sharp-edged eternal snow.

  The mountains never betrayed their secrets...

  And if a wanderer were to climb those peaks, going up to the Fire Hell and searching to quench his thirst at a splashing mountain spring, he would find no cool, refreshing water. Instead, these living mountains would seek to frighten him by shrouding the ground with a mysterious fog that made it impossible to see where he was putting his feet. Pilgrims sometimes drowned in the sulfurous pools of water hidden within the hellish rocks when the fog appeared, and if they left the main trails, they would know true fear, for they would be led down treacherous sidepaths that seemed to take them somewhere, yet actually led them nowhere but to their doom. 

  The mountains never betrayed their secrets...

  Though many thought they would find the cool relief of the shadows by early evening, the ascent would continue for another three torturous days. During those three days, their throats would scream for water, and their eyes would tear up in the swirling sand. Blown up by the hot desert winds, the sand burned as it fell upon a traveler's face and skin. Eventually their limbs would become heavy, and they would barely be able to move; thus, the wanderers would be forced to crawl on, farther and farther, until sheer luck eventually brought them to civilization... to people.

  In a canyon between two hills below the mountain range there was a village. It had no official name, but the people living there called it Alpcateçu, which meant Oasis of the Mountains. Anyone who wanted to climb the mountains had to pass through the village. A few taverns and inns surrounded the village fountain, where a market was sometimes held.

  Some houses and huts had been built in the wide hills and even at the edge of the forest... and in one such place, hidden within the woods, almost four hundred feet past the deepest thicket and connected to the village only by a sidepath lay the place in which I had been born. 

BUY THE BOOK:
Smashwords: https://smashwords.com/books/view/479647

As an Ebook for following formats: epub, mobi, pd,f rtf, lrf ,pdb, txt, html

The Paperback version on Amazon will be released very soon! More buyer’s links will be available within the next week.
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 AUTHOR BIO:
Raani York has been a high volume writer for years. She has published articles, letters, short stories, poems, continuation stories and descriptions of all kind. She also writes novels, some of which can found on her website.

Raani has been educated in Switzerland and in the U.S. She holds a Bachelor's Degree in Business Administration. She also obtained diplomas in Graphic Design, Color Studies and won a prize as a Logo Designer. She speaks four languages and several dialects.

Raani York works and lives in Switzerland and the U.S. and travels often.

Next to her writing and her cats, Raani likes reading, blogging, Martial Arts, skiing, horseback riding, sky diving and enjoys playing the classical piano.


CONTACT:
Website: http://www.raaniyork.com
Blog: http://www.raaniyork.wordpress.com
Email: mailto:raaniyorkca@aol.com
Google: https://plus.google.com/115854197563561201228/posts
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FB Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/DragonScriptures
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RaaniYork
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/raani-york/5/922/b37
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