Megan Cyrulewski's Blog, page 7
February 27, 2015
Authors Supporting Authors: Heidi Skarie
What is your name? Heidi Skarie
Where are you from?
Minnetonka, Minnesota in the United States
What genre are you in?
I write Science Fiction and Historical Fiction, both with metaphysical and romance elements.
Please list your books and the year of publication.
Red Willow’s Quest- paperback in 2000, ebook in 2013
Star Rider on the Razor’s Edge Dec. 2014
Why are you an Author?
I previously expressed myself mainly as a visual artist, but then I had a series of six dreams that was like watching segments of an exciting, futuristic movie. I wrote down the dream each morning and by the end of the sixth dream I had a written ninety pages in my dream journal. It was a terrific story so I decided to learn the skills necessary to write a novel. That dream sequence was eventually made into a novel entitled Star Rider on the Razor’s Edge. After writing the first book, more ideas flowed through to me about the characters and their world, so I wrote the Star Rider series. I’ll be publishing that in the future.
I write because I love telling stories. Stories can transport the reader to another world. They can also help us see with new eyes and find deeper meaning in life. We can also learn from fictional characters by witnessing what they go through to reach their goals.
What inspires you?
For my historical novels, I’m attracted to certain times periods and people that interest me. I do a lot of research to make them authentic. I feel I’m guided to write these books and they come from my past lives.
For my science fiction books, I’m inspired by the possibilities of traveling to other planets and meeting alien races. I enjoy exploring how their world and problems are different, and yet the same as ours.
I have a deep urge to keep working on the art of writing, improve my ability to tell stories and get my novels into the world. It’s hard to get cross-genre books like mine published, since there weren’t a lot of fictional books with metaphysical aspects. Fortunately the market is shifting and there’s more interest in books by cross-genre, visionary authors.
I’m very grateful for the Internet and eBooks. It’s an easier way for indie authors to get their books published. EBooks are also more affordable for readers.
Where and what times during the day do you work best?
I like to write at home in my office or at the dining room table in front of the fireplace. I write best when it’s quiet. I usually do the first draft in long hand and then type it. But I can write anywhere. It’s a skill I learned when my children where growing up. I’d write when my daughter had flute lessons or at a soccer practice.
Who is your target audience?
Teenagers and older. My books have strong heroines, romance and adventure so they appeal to women. Men like my books because they have strong heroes and are fast-paced and action-oriented. My books also appeal to readers who are interested in the spiritual side of life.
How do you want your readers to feel as they read your book?
I want them to be emotionally involved with the story. I write so the reader can see what the characters see, smell and taste. I want them to be concerned about the characters, the dangers and hardships they face and to celebrate with the characters when they overcome adversity and/or fall in love.
What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring authors?
Have goals and deadlines, but also take joy in the journey. Celebrate the small successes, such as completing an outline or one chapter, as well as the big ones of finishing a novel and publishing it.
I’d also suggest joining a critique group and being open to constructive criticism. You can also join a writing group to get together with other authors.
Work on promotion right away. Set up a website with a blog and an opt-in form for a newsletter. Build your audience as you write.
If you decide to be an indie author, hire someone to do the cover and edit your book. The first thing people see is the cover and title, so it’s important to maximize the first few moments they see it to capture their attention.
Share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know.
I write because I love to write and take joy in the journey of the writer. I’m always bettering myself when it comes to the art and craft of writing. I appreciate my readers and I’m always pleased when someone tells me they enjoyed one of my books and gained something from it.
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Chapter One Excerpt:
CHAPTER 1
THE CITY OF SILVER LIGHT IN JAIPAR, PLANET BORKO
Toemeka quickened her pace, certain now that the man was trailing her. He’d followed her ever since she’d left the Military Development Center. When she glanced back and caught a glimpse of him among the shabby Jaiparian pedestrians, he immediately stopped and bought a drink from a street vendor. Had he seen her turn in his direction?
An armed Talon guard posted at the street corner watched her. She slowed down, knowing her work visa was in order, but still uneasy because Jaipar was under military occupation.
Between the shadows of the deteriorating skyscrapers, cars flew over the congested streets at different elevations, spitting out a metallic smell. A siren wailed, drowning out other traffic noise as an emergency vehicle soared past.
At a dilapidated fountain, a skinny boy cupped his hands and drank the murky water on the bottom of the marble bowl. Toemeka drew out a coin to give the waif, but when she stepped forward he fled.
While standing in the shadow of the fountain, she scanned the crowd, looking for the spook. She couldn’t spot him. Where was he? She shifted her awareness to a point above the crowd and slid free of her physical body. In her Light Body she looked down on the pedestrians from a bird’s-eye viewpoint. She soon spotted him as he dashed across the street and headed toward her. Negative energy swirled around him.
Toemeka returned to her body, wondering why he was following her. Who could have hired him? Had her project at work brought her under scrutiny or had they discovered she was an undercover operative? She considered her best options: confront him, try to lose him, or contact her partner Erling.
Toemeka merged with the crowd. Buildings across the street still lay in rubble from the bombings that accompanied General Bhandar’s invasion ten years ago. In the middle of the next block, she stopped at a display window, feigning interest in the evening dresses as she waited for the spook to catch up.
He looked like a professional who was hired to follow her and wouldn’t want her to know it. She counted on him walking by without stopping. While she waited, a piece of trash blew against her legs and swirled by.
Finally an image of him appeared, reflected in the glass. His left cheek was scarred and his ear was a stump, as if it had been shot off. She watched him walk past and down the block, then she slipped into the store and hurried to the back where it opened into a hallway.
She boarded a tube car and set the coordinates. It shot to the left a short distance then rose up a floor. On the skyway connecting two buildings, she gazed out the window at the street below. The one-eared man retraced his steps, checking doorways, and then disappeared into the clothing store.
Toemeka pulled out her communicator and punched in Erling’s name. A message appeared on the screen: No signal.Frustrated she tossed her communicator back into her satchel. Erling was meeting a contact at The Twisted Sisters bar. She’d have to track him down there.
***
Discordant music boomed from the archway of The Twisted Sisters and smoke cast a haze over the room, fouling the air. People danced under strobe lights to a live band. Toemeka wove her way through the seedy clientele, scanning the crowd for Erling, whose height usually made him easy to find.
She stepped into an adjoining room and looked around, concerned when she saw booths. It would be harder to spot Erling if he were in one. Toemeka clutched her satchel to her side and glanced into the nearest one. Two heavily armed mercenaries argued over a pile of gems that gleamed in the light. Not wanting to be noticed, she jerked back and glanced toward the entrance. The one-eared man was just walking in. Condor’s Blood! She thought she’d lost him.
She slipped into a nearby restroom. At the sink, a woman combed her red-streaked hair; the heavy fragrance of her perfume filled the air. The woman’s eyes met Toemeka’s in the mirror as she casually tossed a pill into her mouth. Toemeka shed her tattered coat and stuffed it into her satchel. She’d worn a black sorgtee, a slip-like garment, to work because it was comfortable under her lab coat. Now it would suffice for a dress. She unclipped her barrette and her long hair tumbled over her shoulders.
The woman staggered into a stall, too high to realize she’d left her handbag on the vanity. Toemeka glanced at the stall before rummaging through the bag to create a disguise. Inside was a tube of hair enhancer and she squeezed the point of the tube along her center part. A shimmering liquid flowed down individual strands of her black hair, coloring it violet and adding sparkles. She found eyeliner and drew butterfly wings on both sides of her face before applying dark lipstick and gold eye shadow.
The toilet flushed. Toemeka quickly threw the makeup back into the woman’s bag and slipped out the door. She hurried toward the main area, intent on disappearing into the crowd.
Near the dance floor, a bald man with a gold ring around his neck gave her a licentious smile. “Want to dance, Pet?”
“Find yourself a different pet.”
“No one turns me down.”
“I just did,” she snapped, annoyed at the delay.
“Not here. Here you do as I want,” he said, pointing to himself.
Toemeka’s eyes narrowed. “Apparently you’re too dense to realize I’m one of Samrat Condor’s priestesses?”
He gasped, slack-jawed. “You’re a priestess!”
“I’ve had men put to death for lesser offenses.”
“Sorry, look . . . I don’t want trouble with Samrat Condor.” He backed away and merged into the crowd.
A baritone laugh rumbled behind her. Toemeka turned and exclaimed, “Commander Rochambeau!” Then she wondered if she was mistaken. Rochambeau, her department head, normally dressed in a crisp military uniform and polished boots. This man wore a weathered jacket and scuffed boots, and had a gun belt slung on his hips.
His eyes lit with recognition and he smiled. “Aren’t you Toemeka Ganti, the electrical engineer from Mithra that the MDC just hired?”
She nodded, sorry to have run into him at such a disreputable place. It might make him suspicious of her.
“You’ve transformed,” he said.
“As have you.”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I get tired of wearing a uniform and the angry looks it brings. I came over to offer my assistance when I saw that man harassing you. So you’re a priestess . . . that wasn’t in your file.” He cocked an eyebrow, awaiting her reply.
“A newly acquired position.”
“Conjured for the moment, no doubt. Impersonating a priestess might be considered blasphemy by some.”
“Is it by you?” If he worshipped Samrat Condor, he might well think it was sacrilegious to impersonate one.
Rochambeau ignored her question as he surveyed the room. “A table just opened up. Let’s sit down.” He pressed his hand against the small of her back, guiding her through the horde of rowdy patrons to the table.
Up close she got a whiff of his musky aftershave. “I don’t have time for a drink. I’m here to meet someone. Thanks for checking to see if I needed help.”
“You’ll never find your friend in this crowd.”
Toemeka tensed, the spook was now at the bar, talking to the bartender. He’ll be less likely to recognize me if I’m with the commander, she thought, dropping into the chair.
A lamp in the center of the small table cast a blue glow on Rochambeau’s large, but attractive, features.
“You could be trained to be a priestess,” he said. “You have some of their mysterious abilities and are beautiful enough.” He smirked. “Though they usually don’t have violet hair.”
She winced at the reference to her disguise. “I have no interest in being a priestess. I believe in science, not faith.”
“You didn’t use science when you figured out how the oscillator could be developed.”
How does he know? she wondered. “What makes you think that, Commander Rochambeau?”
“Don’t be so formal. Call me Cadmus. It’s to your advantage to get to know me.”
“Men often think it’s to my advantage to get to know them. I rarely find it so.”
A vein pulsed on his temple. “You’re certainly direct.” He smiled, but his eyes remained steely. “It’s refreshing. Most women are intimidated by my position and the power I hold.”
“I judge a person’s worth by things other than position.”
“Such as?”
Before she could answer, the server arrived, a green-skinned humanoid of the Starlean race. His round gold eyes with a vertical oval in the center shifted nervously from the commander to Toemeka, and then back. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Commander Rochambeau.” He spoke with a heavy accent. “What will be your pleasure tonight?”
“Two glasses of Koro.”
“As you wish.” The server wove through the mass of people headed to the bar.
Toemeka almost called him back, irritated that Rochambeau had ordered for her.
“Those creatures are disgusting,” Commander Rochambeau said. Then he leaned closer. “How do you like your new job?”
“It’s stimulating and challenging.”
“Where did you work before this? “
“I worked on advanced shield design at Kaldare.” What does he really want to know? He must have read her file before she was hired and know her background ─ her fabricated background.
“I find it hard to believe that worked there,” he said.
“Why do you find it hard to believe?” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Where was Erling when she needed him?
“I’ll tell you in a moment. Our drinks are here.”
The server set two small glasses on the table. The gills on the side of his head opened and closed as he gave Toemeka a warning glance. She breathed in the spicy aroma of Koro as she reached for her satchel.
Rochambeau shook his head. “It’s on me.” He dropped a brockda into the server’s hand.
“I’m happy to pay,” she said, not wanting to be indebted to the commander. He was the kind of man who would expect some form of payment.
“No, I insist.”
Not pushing the issue, she looked around the room for Erling, worried that he’d already left. She retuned her attention to Commander Rochambeau
He held out her glass. “Try the Koro. It’s exquisite.”
She took a sip and a bittersweet taste exploded in her mouth. It was good Koro, exceptionally good. She took another swallow, savoring the flavor, then emptied the glass. Her stomach twisted. Something wasn’t right. She felt strange and her mind tracked oddly. Everything seemed to slow down and the colors in the room intensified.
Then it hit her. Oh God, I’ve been drugged! Rochambeau must have slipped something into her drink when she was scanning the room for Erling. “I have to go,” she said, standing.
He jerked her arm and she fell back into the chair. “We need to talk. A colleague of mine who works at Kaldare said he’s never heard of you.”
“It’s a big company. No one there knows everyone. I’m sure the MDC verified my work history before hiring me.”
“Files can be faked. Moreover, you broke regulations by discussing your project with Erling Fenian. He doesn’t have clearance.”
“He doesn’t?” She tried to focus. “I thought everyone working at the MDC had clearance.”
“He has clearance for some things, but not this project. We’ve been trying to develop the oscillator for years and you claim to already have the key to making it work. What makes you think you can succeed where we’ve failed?”
“Well . . . I.” Her senses felt overloaded and she couldn’t concentrate.
A dark-skinned trader ambled up to a nearby table. As Toemeka watched him, the scarf around his neck started to move, changing into a serpent.
“Look, a snake!” Toemeka gasped.
“There aren’t any snakes here.” Rochambeau stood, scraping his chair against the floor. “Let’s get out of here.” He pulled her out of her chair and started pushing his way through the rough crowd, dragging her behind him.
Caught up in this nightmarish experience, the room seemed alive to Toemeka. The walls breathed in and out, keeping time with the pulsating music.
Once outside away from the strobe lights and discordant music, she felt a little better. Night had descended and streetlights formed golden circles on the sidewalks. As she stared at them, they started changing colors and she realized she was hallucinating.
Rochambeau clutched her hand tightly as he pulled her down the street to a speedrider station. Before long the track began to vibrate as a bullet-shaped vehicle approached. It hovered for a moment before easing onto the gravity track.
“Get on,” Rochambeau said.
“Where are we going?”
“To the Talon Military Compound. I’m taking you in for questioning.”
“You have no right. I’m a Mithrian citizen protected by the agreement between our countries.”
“Not if I think you’re a threat to national security.”
“I’m not a threat!” She tried to wrench her hand free from his grasp and he yanked her arm. She cried out in pain as he twisted it behind her. A nearby man glanced toward them. His unusual violet eyes met Toemeka’s for a moment before he looked away.
Rochambeau growled into her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. “If you try to escape, I’ll break your arm. Your disappearance will be unfortunate, but then anything can happen to a woman alone in the city. Get on the speedrider.”
He stood just behind her and Toemeka kicked backwards with the heel of her boot, aiming for his knee. He jumped back and she dug her spiked heel into his shin instead, and scrapped it down his leg. He grunted and then shoved her onto the steps of the speedrider. Trapped, she boarded the grimy vehicle. People in faded clothes filled the torn seats or stood in the aisle, holding onto handrails.
Commander Rochambeau flashed his pass to the android driver before joining Toemeka toward the back of the speedrider. He shoved her into a vacant seat and sat next to her. The vehicle shot forward and lifted a few feet into the air.
Toemeka’s head spun as the city lights raced by. She wondered what the commander had given her, concerned it might cause permanent brain damage. She closed her eyes. Bright red flashes and florescent yellow lights swirled before her. Then she heard a popping sound and found herself out of her body. Under a green-streaked sky, she stood on a high balcony where General Bhandar and a dark-haired man fought with occult weapons. Talon guards surrounded them and a deep concern for the dark-haired man filled her. More images appeared: guards dropping to the ground with blood pouring from their mouths and noses. A broken railing. Beating white wings.
Toemeka felt a grip on her arm and abruptly returned to her body.
“Get up,” Rochambeau ordered. “It’s our stop.” She recoiled from him, pressing back into the seat. When the speedrider lowered onto the track and stopped, he wrenched her up and pulled her out a side door.
Storm clouds filled the evening sky. She noticed that the sidewalk ran along the speedrider track at the bottom of a steep embankment. They followed it until they reached a high escalator. As they rode up, Toemeka wondered how to escape from the commander. If they tortured her, sooner or later she’d break and reveal her team members and their mission. She’d rather die than put her team in danger.
They stepped onto a platform at the top of the hill overlooking the city. Toemeka shivered in her thin sorgtee as she desperately looked around. Sixty feet away, guards flanked the walled Talon Military Complex front gates. To the left was an airfield.
Suddenly, a man leapt out from behind a thick bush and aimed an energy gun at Commander Rochambeau. The commander reached for his blaster and Toemeka gave him a shove then wrenched free. The energy gun flashed. Rochambeau clutched his chest and collapsed. Toemeka fled toward the airfield, afraid she’d be shot next. Footsteps pounded on the pavement behind her and she forced a burst of speed. The attacker caught up and raced beside her.
A Talon guard yelled, “Stop or we’ll shoot!”
They kept running as energy beams tore up the tarmac around them.
“Keep low,” the man said. He pulled Toemeka behind a spacecraft and fired at the guards and soldiers who chased them.
Toemeka’s head spun from the remains of the drug still in her system. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Michio. I’m a friend of the Kameets.” He pointed to a Viper aircraft. “That’s my ship. Let’s go!” Together they dashed across the airfield toward the two-man ship. He pushed a keyless remote and the Viper’s engine roared to life as its canopy opened.
Toemeka stopped, realizing it was dangerous to trust a complete stranger. “Why are you helping me?”
“There’s no time to explain. Run!” An energy beam shot by her head and she raced for the Viper.
“Get in!” Michio yelled.
She glanced wildly around her, trying to catch her breath, wondering if she could escape from the soldiers on her own. Guards and soldiers raced across the airfield, toward them as Michio fired from behind the ship.
“Get in!” he yelled again. Deciding Michio posed less of an immediate threat than the soldiers, she scrambled into the cockpit. Michio jumped in the other side and the canopy closed over them. An energy beam hit the side of the ship and flames shot up.
“The right engine is on fire!” Toemeka screamed. “Put out the fire!”
To her surprise, the ship computer answered. Order acknowledged. Foam shot out, covering the engine, extinguishing the fire.
“Get ready for takeoff,” Michio said. His hands flew across the control panel.
A helmet automatically dropped down from the canopy and onto her head. Toemeka fastened it and clicked her seat belt into place. Moments later the ship shot into the sky, pressing Toemeka into the seat.
Soon yellow lights appeared in the darkness below them.
“We’re being followed!” Toemeka exclaimed as the yellow lights took the form of five Talon fighters.
A missile is locked on us, the computer said.
“Shoot it down, ZB!” Michio ordered the computer as he evasively dodged laser fire coming from the fighters.
The computer shot a missile to intercept the one coming toward them, but the Talon missile slipped by and exploded against the side of the Viper, violently shaking Toemeka and Michio.
“Any damages, ZB?” Michio asked.
Negative. The ship’s deflector shield held.
“Calculate for a jump,” Michio ordered.
Calculations begun.
A second blast rocked the ship.
“Get us out of here, ZB!”
Ready to commence phase one.
The ship vibrated and a high-pitched whine filled the cockpit as the spacecraft jumped into hyperspace. The piercing sound hurt Toemeka’s ears and she lost consciousness, sliding into a world of drug-induced illusions.
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February 24, 2015
Book Blog Tour: "Chasing the Other Tisdale" by Jessica Jefferson
Jessica will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host.
BLURB:
She’s the other sister…
Overshadowed by the beauty of her older sister, Lillian is better known as the other Tisdale; unremarkable and unsure how she will ever deliver on the promise of her family's name.
He’s a rake in need of reforming…
Will Colton leads a frivolous existence, embracing notoriety instead of managing his family’s fortune. Determined to forget his financial burden and his father’s growing resentment, he maintains a lifestyle dedicated to pleasure and self-indulgence. When Will is invited to the Tisdale estate for an extended holiday, he never expects to become friends with the forgettable Lillian. But when a family secret comes to light, he must choose between leaving London and protecting the honor of one woman or staying and risking the reputation of another.
Upon his return, Will finds the girl he left behind has come out of the shadows and into her own. Lillian’s finally the center of attention, and not all of it good. With his own reputation in tatters, can a reformed rake lure her out of the hands of London's bachelors and back into his own arms? Can he escape his past and reclaim her heart, or has he lost her forever?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPTS:
He didn’t try and crawl out of the hole he’d so easily dug for himself. Rather, instead of making an already awkward situation worse, he smiled. It was a cavalier sort of smile—one that she just knew he’d used hundreds of times before to get him out of this sort of trouble. Women were undoubtedly willing to forgive him most transgressions just by a flash of this winning grin.
Lord knew she was.
She’d never before met anyone so handsome, so charming, so…
A bolt of pain shot up her arm, as if God himself was punishing her for having such immoral thoughts.
“Enough,” he said. “We need to get you in front of a doctor. The sooner, the better.”
“Good idea,” she agreed. “How do you suggest we go about doing that?”
“First, we’ll need to secure your arm.”
She nodded. “You mean fashion a sling? I’m sure there’s something around here that we could use as rope. Perhaps ivy? There’s a great deal of it about the estate.”
His hand flew up to his chest. “What do you take me for, some sort of bushman? For heaven’s sake, I’m from Grosvenor Square, not some jungle. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea of how to go about accomplishing something like that.”
Lilly bit her lip. She’d never make it being jostled about without something to steady her arm. “Did you have something else in mind, then?”
Mr. Colton started removing his jacket. “I thought I’d use my shirt. I’ll rip some strips off of it and make the sling out of that.”
“Your shirt,” she repeated, suddenly questioning if she’d indeed suffered a head injury along with her broken arm.
He tossed the jacket to the ground behind him. “Yes.”
She was confused. “But then what will you wear?”
He was unfastening his waistcoat. “Nothing, I suppose .”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Jessica Jefferson makes her home in northern Indiana, or as she likes to think of it—almost Chicago. She is heavily inspired by classic sweeping, historical romance novels, but aims to take those key emotional elements and inject a fresh blend of quick dialogue and comedy. She invites you to visit her at jessicajefferson.com and read more of her random romance musings.
Links and social media:
http://www.JessicaJefferson.com and http://www.embracingromance.com
Like me at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessica-Jefferson/545243542195152
Follow me at https://twitter.com/authorJessicaJ/
Goodreads –https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7376474.Jessica_Jefferson
Amazon Author Page- http://www.amazon.com/Jessica-Jefferson/e/B00GI20W2K
Chasing the Other Tisdale, Compromising Miss Tisdale and Taming Miss Tisdale from Soul Mate Publishing, available now on Amazon!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
February 23, 2015
Authors Supporting Authors: Sheila S. Hudson
What is your name? Sheila S. Hudson
Where are you from?
United States (Georgia)
What genre are you in?
Non-fiction
Please list your books and the year of publication.
13 Decisions That Will Change Your Life - 2014
Why are you an Author?
I have always loved words and dabbled a bit in every kind of writing. I have free lanced for years and have two Kindle books (My Forever Valentines and Holiday Reservations). 13 Decisions is the first of a series in memoir/self-help series from my years in marriage and ministry.
What inspires you?
A good story, nature, funny things that happen to me, things my grandsons say
Where and what times during the day do you work best?
I work best mid-morning with chores done, coffee inhaled, and my dog TJ under the desk. He is my muse. While walking him I get a lot of inspirational ideas.
Who is your target audience?
Women (middle age and later) because I feel that they can relate. Anyone can read 13 Decisions and find help and inspiration but this group is one who can “feel”the words and perhaps have a better understanding of my examples.
How do you want your readers to feel as they read your book?
Inspired. Challenged. Hopeful. Forgiven. Determined.
What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring authors?
Never give up. A lot of talent goes undiscovered because of discouragement. Authors should give aspiring ones a hand up. Because of Southeastern Writers Association I have friends, support, and encouragement. I owe them for not allowing me to give up on my dream of authoring a book.
Share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know.
I am really an introvert. That said, if you want to talk about writing I could go on all day. When I am sure you are friendly, I open up and share quite candidly. I love getting to know other writers and what they write. Even if it is a genre I don’t normally enjoy, if it is written by someone I know I will dig in and devour it. I love mysteries and hope to successfully pen one some day. But in the meantime, I plan a series of 13 Decisions books. The next one is 13 Decisions That Will Transform Your Marriage due out in 2015. The third planned book is 13 Decisions That Will Empower Your Spirit.
Author Bio:
I've always had a romance with words. As a child I loved the smell of newly sharpened pencils and enjoyed flipping open a brand new blank notebook. The possibilitie were endless. I could fill those pages with whatever I wanted. As a teen I wrote poetry and even managed to sell one. I think that was when I got bitten by the writing bug.
College was filled with papers to write as assignments. It was only later when working as an aide to my professor husband, that I realized how much I missed writing and editing. English was always my favorite subject including of course the semester on literature.
Life intervened. Family moved to top priority with two growing daughters who needed my full time attention. I worked at three universities to help with the family income and it wasn't until my children were in college that I picked up my writer's pen and began again.
The first article that I published was in a Christian magazine. You'd have thought I won the lottery. I didn't get paid for that one but I did for another that quickly followed. I began pouring over writers' magazines and seeking out writers in my community. Through an ad in the newspaper, I found a group of people who were addicted to writing -- like me.
It was though this group, A Shot in the Dark, that I met Amy Munnell. She has been a true friend, sounding board, writing buddy, editor, and my co-writer for many years. I value her friendship and her professional skills. Amy introduced me to the community of writer at Southeastern Writers Association (SWA) and it was there I found my forever writing friends. That was 1993.
My byline has appeared in the Athens Banner Herald, Points North. Athena Magazine, Athens Parent, Christian Standard, The Lookout, Southern Writers Magazine, to name a few. My association with SWA has introduced me to Pulitzer Prize winners, agents, and best-selling authors like Rick Bragg and Steve Berry. This network of professionals I am proud to call friends.
Links:
Blog: sheilahudson.blogspot.com
Twitter: SheilaHudson7
Website: www.13Decisions.com
sheila@13decisions.net
February 17, 2015
Authors Supporting Authors: Claire Muller
What is your name? Claire Muller
Where are you from?
My home, with my husband Tom and dogs, etc, is in Central Kentucky- a grand place to live!
What genre are you in?
Memoir
Please list your books and the year of publication.
My first and only (so far) book, ‘Signing to the Angels’ . Published December, 2014
Why are you an Author?
It was not a childhood dream. That would have been beyond my dreams, because from the time I could read, books have been my refuge, my inspiration and so much happiness to me. To think I would one day attach ‘Author’ to my life, was-and is- joy to me! To see my book in the public library is inexpressible. But writing became a need! When I have to write, there is no stopping it until it is done.
What inspires you?
God. God inspires my morning thoughts, my wonder of the world, the terms of my relationships. He makes me want to reflect him in any way I can. He makes me want to show facets of him through words.
Where and what times during the day do you work best?
My best thought-time is right after my morning bible study, when I’m in the most reflective mood. I obviously write often in pajamas!
Who is your target audience?
For ‘Signing to the Angels’ I would love to reach parents. Every child is vulnerable, and unique, and this book addresses not only those with a handicap or two, but also how we look at our lives, where we focus our attention, what we value above all else. Whether we are asked to change from the inside out, or just need to re-evaluate our vision in day-to-day priorities, this book may help.
How do you want your readers to feel as they read your book?
I hope a box of tissues is not the only thing needed while reading my book! I hope the humor comes through and there is laughter, too. I write with prose, interspersed often with poetic flow. It makes the reading more fun, I think…. more thoughtful, I hope… more memorable, I believe.
What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring authors?
The writing was harder than I thought. It requires a lot of time and reveals yourself to the world. That is also hard. This is a memoir, but I know that when I read a novel, I still learn much about the author. Maybe I would say that it could be some of your best writing, to let yourself be yourself.
Share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know.
I have the scattered mind of an artist. Five minutes with me would show you that, without explanation. My art is as fluid as my mind, and I love and combine words, poetry, languages, and all types of art at all points. What will I work on next? Who knows!?
I have a web site: http://clairemuller.webs.com Come read my blogs!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blurb
‘This is a memoir of the life of a deaf/blind child, born into a sighted and hearing world and quietly taking it by storm. It is a rhythm of life itself - chaotic and peaceful, joyous and grieving, thoughtful and spontaneous. It is the summary of a child who came to teach instead of learn, and how the lessons of patience and frustration, hope and despair come together to bring about the most worthwhile changes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt
How can I not live my life for the joy of it, after knowing you?
I jump from an airplane, unafraid and joyful, taking you with me in my heart.
I wish you could be here, Principessa - you would love this.
What has changed in my life because of having you in it, Shelly Bean?
It is watching you patiently endure the days before and behind, by living in the very moment you have right then.
How can I not endure, after seeing you so long-suffering?
How do I complain for the trials of my life, when yours is so short and hard?
I never lived with a gut that hurt, day after day. I never lived without choices of great and small magnitude. I never lived without the pleasure of food, or art, or literature. I never lived without easy conversation, small confidences with a friend, shared secrets. I never lived without methods to convey my pain or my wants …
I never lived a life silent and dark.
But Shelly Bean …
Until I knew how you lived,
I never really lived.
Amazon Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Signing-Angels-Clair-Muller/dp/0692328157/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1424182813&sr=1-1
February 15, 2015
Book Blog Tour: "A No Good Itch" by S.D. Skye
The author will be awarding a Amazon Kindle Fire HD 7 + $25 Kindle GC (US ONLY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during this tour and the
Review Tour, Here
, and a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host, also between this tour and the Review Tour.What is your name?
S.D. Skye
Where are you from?
Washington D.C.
What genre are you in?
Romantic suspense/spy thrillers
Please list your books and the year of publication.
The Seven Year Itch (A J.J. McCall Novel) Book 1 - 2012
Son of a Itch (A J.J. McCall Nov el) Book 2 – 2013
A No Good Itch (A J.J. McCall Novel) Book 3 – 2014
Why are you an Author?
I believe most authors who are asked this question must have the same answer. We are authors because we can’t be anything else. Writing is really a compulsion for me; I can’t not write. Besides, with all the voices in my head crying for their places on the pages of my books, sun avoidance and barricading myself in my office while I talk to imaginary people, if I didn’t write these stories I might be diagnosed as a schizophrenic.
What inspires you?
I’m most inspired by stories in which people discover their true selves or overcome major obstacles to achieve dreams. Stories like this inspire my own life and give me energy to endure this writer’s life which can often be very disheartening and discouraging to say the least. So, when I get the opportunity to read about stories and watch stories which inspire hope, I tend to infuse these into my characters. Whatever ups and downs they endure, they usually come out in a positive place.
Where and what times during the day do you work best?
I usually get my best work done in my office around 3 or 4 am. I’m one of those authors who must still maintain the dreaded (but appreciated) 9-to-5 to pay the mortgage, and my work schedule is usually pretty hectic. So, I try to get in as much writing before work as possible because that’s when my mind is freshest. The good thing is that I’m fortunate enough to have a dedicated office space in my house, so I have a place to go to whenever inspiration strikes.
Who is your target audience?
First and foremost, I would say men or women who like spy novels, political thrillers, and Beltway intrigue will absolutely love this entire series. If you like the classic FBI versus Russian spies stories then you will absolutely love these stories. They are told from a unique perspective than most spy novels as they deal with how the FBI operates against spies inside the United States, and mostly in the Washington D.C. area. With that said, woven throughout the spy stories is a burgeoning romance and a bit of a love triangle. Also underlying the plots is the story of a woman’s journey to find out whether following in her mother’s footsteps led her to the right path for her own life. She’s also got some personal demons to overcome. So, there is a mix of things to keep all kinds of readers interested.
How do you want your readers to feel as they read your book?
Wow, great question. I want them to be anxious and breathless. I want them to be so concerned about what’s going to happen next and how the story is going to end that they can’t put the books down. I wrote them with that intent. I want them to fall in love with the main characters—J.J. McCall, Tony Donato, and Six. I want them to get angry at them and be disappointed in them, but mostly root for them and care about what happens to them. I feel all these things when I’m writing them, so if some of that is imparted to the readers and keeps them hooked into the story then nothing could make me happier.
What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring authors?
I’ve written a number of books in multiple genres. I’ve self published some books and have been signed to a Big 5 publisher under a pseudonym for other books. I’ve seen this industry from many different perspectives and one piece of advice that has served me well is this: Write your heart. Write your own story.
Be true to yourself and your art. If you are coming from a place of truth and authenticity, no matter what you write, you will find an audience…eventually. Don’t try to keep up with the trends. Don’t try to re-create another author’s success. Stay in your own lane. Write your own heart. Tell the stories that only you can tell. Will this path win you instant success? Maybe yes, maybe no. But what it will do is ensure that when you find success, you’ll be able to sustain it.
Share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know.
I spent 20+ years in the intelligence community and one thing that I wanted to accomplish in these series is bringing people similar to those that I worked with and out of the shadows and into books. Almost every character is based on one person or a combination of several people that I’ve encountered in real life. I’ve done a lot of amazing things in my career (I could tell you but I’d have to kill you) and I wanted to bring elements of the stuff done in the shadows to light…but in a fictional way.
For that reason, I love writing this series…and when I say I love it, I mean – this is the thing I was meant to do. When you read one (or all) of my stories what you will see is that I have so much fun taking readers on a ride. I love throwing in twists. I love putting my characters through the wringer or challenging situations that test their faith, courage, and moral fiber—because that’s what people in the field of U.S. intelligence are faced with every day. They are tested in ways you can’t imagine, but at the end of the day they endure and live it because they are patriots.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
IN THE GAME OF ESPIONAGE, SPY TAKES TRAITOR.
J.J. MCCALL TAKES OVER.
The FBI and Italian Mafia make strange bedfellows when a vicious Russian Organized crime figure, operating at the behest of Russian Intelligence, lands in The Big Apple. The Russian intelligence hench-man, infamously known as Mashkov, avenges the death of slain a Russian sleeper agent and accidentally hits the son of an Italian crime boss, sending J.J. and Task Force Phantom Hunter to the streets of New York. They are stepping into a possible war between Russian and Italian organized crime factions, while trying to dismantle the financial hub of the most insidious Russian illegals network in U.S. History.
Meanwhile, CIA Case Officer Grayson “Six” Chance is in Moscow trying to capture a fugitive American who has stolen White House intelligence and is planning to pass it to the Russians—putting Six in a moral dilemma he may not be prepared to handle.
And when J.J. finally learns the truth surrounding her mother's death in the line of duty, her life may never be the same.
If you enjoy this book, you will love Book 1--The Seven Year Itch (A J.J. McCall Novel) and Book 2 -- Son of a Itch (A J.J. McCall Novel).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
The Sheriffs walked J.J. and Tony through a series of security doors until they reached the interrogation room. They left their overcoats with their escorts and tugged their suit jackets straight before entering. The sight of Kendell Phillips’ murderer shrouded in orange and shackled at the hands and feet gave J.J. a burst of pleasure she hadn’t felt since her early morning romp with Tony. A reddish blue bruise circled his eye and spread to the cap of his jaw. His gaze disintegrated under the weight of her glare and fell to his twiddling thumbs. She prepared to speak when an overwhelming scent jarred her senses—the smell of contemptible swine.
“My, my, my,” J.J. said to Maddix. “What an ugly fall from grace. Too bad they don’t make an Armani perp suit. You used to wear him so well.”
Positioned across from Maddix, Tony scanned the rat’s face and looked at him with a pained expression. “Rough night, eh? Did they forget to put you in solitary? Looks like you’ve been mingling with the locals.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said with a shrug. Then he leaned back, spread his knees wide, and placed his hands in his lap. “So, this is the reason you came all the way to Shangri-La? To gloat?”
J.J. savored his misery and then vexed him with a tight smile. “We’re here to discuss your comrade in arms, Hawk—Gary Mosin.”
“Newsflash, doll.” Maddix forced out a grating laugh, overplaying his weak position just a smidge. “You get nothing from me, not without a deal. I want immunity.”
“Immunity?” J.J. blinked in rapid motion.
"Listen, you ain’t gotta make this difficult. We didn’t come here to pick a fight. Give us the information we need, and you can go back to counting the tiles on the ceiling . . . or whatever it is you do on the inside.” Tony contrived a calm demeanor as he reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro 100s and a book of matches. He slid them to the middle of the table until they stopped beside a plastic ashtray. “Our treat. Enjoy. But if you choose to stay on the difficult route, we can reverse course any time.”
Maddix cupped his hands and with no show of gratitude, pulled the offerings to the table’s edge, his shackles jangling with his every move. He folded back the foil on the corner of the pack and knocked the open end against his wrist until a cigarette emerged. Then his brow drew together, furrowed in confusion. “You don’t have a clue, do you?” His gaze ping-ponged between J.J. and Tony before he shook his head. “That’s why you’re here. You don’t know!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
S.D. Skye is a former FBI Counterintelligence Analyst in the Russia program and supported cases during her 12-year tenure at the Bureau. She has personally witnessed the blowback the Intelligence Community suffered due to the most significant compromises in U.S. history, including the arrests of former CIA Case Officer Aldrich Ames and two of the Bureau's own—FBI Agents Earl Pitts and Robert Hansen. She has spent 20 years in the U.S. Intelligence Community.
Skye is a member of the Maryland Writer’s Association, Romance Writers of America, and International Thriller Writers. She’s addicted to writing and chocolate—not necessarily in that order—and currently lives in the Washington D.C. area with her son. Skye is hard at work on several projects, including the next installment of the series.
Web Links
Blog: http://www.authorsdskye.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorsdskye
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/sdskye1
Buy Links
http://www.amazon.com/S.D.-Skye/e/B00AMAUFK8
a Rafflecopter giveaway
February 13, 2015
Is It Really That Bad To Believe in Fairy Tales?
Every Friday night is date night with my daughter, Madelyne. We make popcorn and watch a movie in mommy's bed. Last Friday, we watched "Tangled" for the first time. (I was getting a little tired of Frozen.) We both loved it. Ever since then, I've been obsessed with the main song hence the picture above. I've probably watched it on YouTube a dozen times. Why am I so obsessed with the song? Or the movie? Or both? And then it hit me. I want my own fairy tale.I'm not talking about magic, true love in one day (ala Anna from Frozen - that didn't work out so well for her, did it?) or impossibilities like growing my hair long enough so people can use it to climb into a tower. I'm talking about that elusive fairy tale of love.
It exists. I've seen it with my own friends. Some couples are just so darn cute that that twinge of jealousy I feel isn't so bad. But when is it my turn? When do I get to feel that? Is someone ever going to look at me the way Flynn looks at Rapunzel?
When I really think about it, I've never experienced love. I thought I was going to marry my high school sweetheart because I was "madly in love" with him, until he dumped me for someone who would have sex with him. (I was still a good little Catholic back then. Now...not so much.)
I've come to realize that I was more in love with the idea of marriage than I was in love with my ex-husband. I know that sounds harsh, but to be fair, I believe he doesn't really know how to love. There was a song that came out when I was in 7th grade. I fell in love with it and for years I promised myself that that was going to be my wedding song. Do you want to hear something funny? It wasn't my wedding song. I picked something else. In fact, that song wasn't even in the "running" for our first dance/wedding song. Maybe it's because I somehow knew, he wasn't the one for me. (And no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. It's my secret.)
I see someone like George Clooney who vowed never to get married again. We all know what happened last year. A couple of years ago, I met a woman who at the age of 51, was a newlywed. She said she waited until she found the person for her - and he was worth the wait.
I know what you're probably thinking. I'm whining a little. I mean, I have friends and family who I love and who love me dearly. I love my daughter unconditionally as she does in return. Or you're thinking that tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I'm just feeling a little melancholy.
But I don't think so.
I don't expect a man to burst into song with me or wake me up with a kiss. I just want to know what it feels like to love and be loved in return by the person who was meant to love me. What does it feel like when the person who loves you would go to the ends of the earth just to make you feel happy? What does it feel like when the person who loves you makes you feel safe? What does it feel like when the person who loves you looks at you like you are everything? What does that kind of love feel like?
If I never find that person, I'll be okay. I have my daughter, my family and friends, and my work. I'm not depressed or sad about the prospect of spending the rest of my life single. I just feel like something is missing.
So, is it really that bad to believe in fairy tales? No. I'm a sucker for romance and happy endings. And who knows? Maybe one day my prince will come.
February 10, 2015
Authors Supporting Authors: Debbie Roppolo
What is your name? Debbie Roppolo
Where are you from?
Southwestern United States
What genre are you in?
I write in three different genres:
1. Humor: It’s parenting humor, and often my children’s antics are the subject of my stories.
2. Children: My characters are based on my personality as a child. No wonder my mother has gray hair.
3. Cookbooks: Cooking is my second passion. I love taking simple, low-cost ingredients and seeing what I can create with them.
Please list your books and the year of publication.
Amelia Frump and her Peanut Butter Loving, Overactive Imagination (2011)
Amelia Frump...is Cooking Up a Peanut Butter Storm (2012)
Turkey Trouble and Chasing Aprons (2014) (Kindle)
Do you have any weird/strange habits when you work?
I have a few quirks. The first, is that the house has to be clean. That habit comes from my mother, who was a poet. After the housework was done, then she relaxed with a glass of sweet tea, her pencil and a notepad.
Soft instrumental music is played on a DISH network station, and my Scentsy is always on, with a cube of cinnamon scent melting in its saucer. And, like Mom, I have a cup of tea, except mine is hot, preferably Wild Sweet Orange flavor.
I’m a hyper person, and all these things seem to calm me, and assist me in focusing on the manuscript.
Do you prefer writing or typing?
Several years ago I was in a near-fatal car accident, and the result was nerve damage in my right hand (I now have 70 percent use). I had to teach myself how to be left-handed. Even though my writing is legible, I prefer to type everything.
What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever received about life, writing, or anything?
My father was my biggest supporter. He encouraged me to dream, and dream big. His philosophy was: “You can do anything, just as long as you put your mind to it.” Though he’s gone, his words remain in my heart, and have fueled my determination in my writing and in life.
If you could pick one place to write for the rest of your life, where would it be? (For example, mine would be on the beaches of Hawaii)
My ancestry is largely Spanish. I have a desire to visit Spain and experience the people and the culture. And, I’d be content to sit and write on a beautiful Spanish beach, and look out onto the Mediterranean.
Does your family/friends read your books? If so, what do they think?
My family and friends read my books, and seem to enjoy them. The only negative feedback is when my children read the parenting stories. Then it’s eyerolls and mumbles of “Gee, Mom, I know you thought it was funny and cute, but did you hafta share with the whole world?”
Share one thing that would surprise people!
I was a very mischievous child, and not one to be dared, because I’d take it! Once, on a dare, a workman at my mother’s house dared me to lead a weanling filly into the house. There was partical board laid for carpeting, so I knew there was no danger of the horse slipping.
The animal was an orphan I bought at a sale, and I spent much of my time with her. As a result, her trust and love for me was limitless. Without hesitation “Little Girl” trip-trapped across the threshold, and walked behind me into the kitchen where Mama was peeling carrots.
I was disappointed because there was no startled look in my mother’s eyes. She was used to my antics. Instead, she sighed and told me to lead the horse outside. We exited to a chorus of chuckles from the other workmen, and jeers directed at their red-faced co-worker who mumbled, “Holy crap, didn’t think you’d do it!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blurb from Amelia Frump and the Billion-Cajillion Dollar Adventure
Amelia Frump is best friends with Julie, a classmate she's known since kindergarten, and Amelia believes nothing will end that friendship. Nothing, until a new girl moves into the neighborhood.
Meagan Wells is a sweet, fun-loving girl (Amelia's age) who's moved far away from her old friends and school. Julie and Meagan form an instant friendship, and Amelia begins to feel left out, and as exciting as a brown paper bag.
There's a secret that Amelia's teacher, Mr. Perez, has for the class, and Amelia is dismayed when she's partnered with Meagan.
Amelia turns to her imagination for help, but something goes horribly wrong, and she struggles to correct everything before it's too late.
Megan, thank you so much for having me! I do want your readers to know that Amelia is back for another adventure in Amelia Frump and the Billion-Cajillion Dollar Adventure. I’m also working on another activity/cookbook, and a parenting humor book.
You can connect with me through:
Twitter: http://twitter.com/debbieroppolo
Web site: http://debbieroppolo.weebly.com
Facebook:http://facebook.com/Amelia.Frump.fan.page
February 9, 2015
Authors Supporting Authors: M.M. Justus
What is your name? (Include pen names)My pen name is M.M. Justus. My legal name is M. Meg Justus. My mother is the only person who gets away with calling me Mary Margaret.
Where are you from?
I live within sight of Mt. Rainier, in western Washington state.
What genre are you in?
I've written in several genres including contemporary romance and travel memoir, but most of my books aren't that simple to categorize. They all have romantic threads, and they all have supernatural elements, but they're primarily adventures set in the not-so-distant past of the late 19th and early 20th centuries of western North America.
Please list your books and the year of publication.
These are original publication dates, which are not the same as what's on the Amazon pages, which record the last time changes were made to the record.
Time in Yellowstone
Repeating History, 2011
True Gold, 2012
"Homesick" (a short story), 2012
Finding Home, 2013
Tales of the Unearthly Northwest
Sojourn, 2014
"New Year's Eve in Conconully" (a short story), 2015
Reunion (coming this spring)
Much Ado in Montana (contemporary small-town romance), 2014
Cross-Country: Adventures Alone Across America and Back, 2014
Why are you an Author?
Because I love to write? I've wanted to be an author from my earliest memory, and I've been writing since I was a teenager, with only a ten-year gap in my twenties and thirties proximately caused by the university creative writing teacher from hell, whose reason in life was to discourage young writers. I publish what I write because, as a character (an actor playing an actor) in a movie I enjoy once said, I don't want to practice my expressions in front of the mirror anymore. I want to share them.
What inspires you?
All kinds of weird things. My Time in Yellowstone series came to be because, as I was standing awestruck in front of my first eruption of Grand Geyser (not Old Faithful, mind), five incredible 200+ foot bursts, I thought, wow, wouldn't that make a terrific time travel device. My Tales of the Unearthly Northwest were inspired by two things. One was the tiny remote town of Conconully, Washington, and its historic flood, and the other was a plaster pig in a store window in the hamlet of Molson, Washington. My contemporary romance came about as an homage to my favorite Shakespeare play, and my travel memoir because I'd always envied William Least Heat Moon, Bill Bryson, and John Steinbeck for their solo trips.
Where and what times during the day do you work best?
Have laptop, can write anywhere (where there aren't too many distractions), from the wing chair in my living room to a campground out in the middle of nowhere. One place I like to go when I'm stuck is the Carbon River area at the northwest corner of Mt. Rainier National Park (about an hour from my house, so I save that for when I'm really stuck). It's a beautiful rain forest, and a very inspiring place. I normally write best during the late morning/early afternoon, but I can and do write whenever I can fit the time in -- back when I was working full time, I used to write on my lunch hour.
Who is your target audience?
That's a hard one, and one I've had a difficult time pinning down in the conventional sense. If you like stories about a world just odd enough to keep you guessing, events barely plausible enough to feel real even though you know they're fantastical, then you'll like my books. If you like your history accurate even when you know you're reading about something that couldn't possibly have happened, you'll like my books. If you enjoy a strong sense of place, and reading about characters who feel like Real People , you'll like my books.
How do you want your readers to feel as they read your book?
Curious. Intrigued. I want them to care about my characters and to be fascinated by the unusual circumstances they've been thrown into. I want them, just for a little while, to be convinced that time travel, or ghosts, or anything else that we don't think can be real, is.
What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring authors?
Do your due diligence. Know what you're getting into before you start. Realize that the actual writing is only half of the job, that no matter how you're published, you have to be as much salesman as writer. Which means you have to be as much extrovert as introvert. Which can be a hard pill to swallow for some of us.
Share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know.
I am an extremely place-oriented person. I measure my childhood by two things, where we were living at the time (my father was an engineer, and his job caused us to move quite a bit), and whether it was before or after a particular trip we took. For instance, we rode the mules down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon when I was twelve, and we drove from Southern California to Alaska via the Alaska Highway (back when it was 1200 miles of gravel and 300 miles of frost heaves) when I was fourteen. A great many of my favorite childhood memories took place while traveling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blurb for Sojourn:
Time isn’t everything it appears to be.
State trooper Daniel Reilly never thought he’d wind up in his stepmother’s favorite movie. Chasing a suspected drunk driver through Washington’s desolate Okanogan Highlands is part of his job, but crashing his cruiser and waking up in a ghost town
definitely isn’t. And when that ghost town starts to come to life?
His version of Brigadoon is not a carefree musical.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from Sojourn:
Why was I doing this again?
Right. I was trying to catch a probable crazy person who’d most likely already slid off into the canyon herself by now. The dirt under my tires was turning into something resembling a slip ‘n slide, and the track was getting narrower and narrower, and more and more overgrown, although I wasn’t sure that wasn’t just my paranoia making me think so.
I could have reached out and touched the barren rocky hillside through the driver’s side window, and on my right the land dropped away into darkness. Someone’d had a heck of a time blasting this road out of the hill. I edged around yet another curve, hoping for a spot wide enough to turn around and go, well, if not home, then at least back to Omak.
Less than twenty feet ahead of me, a cluster of weirdly flickering lights wavered across the road like giant fireflies in the woods, except we don’t have fireflies here. Not flashlights, the light was too yellow. And were those people? Vague shadows, and I couldn’t tell if they were moving or not. My gut made me slam on the brakes even though I knew better. Not that it did any good. The Vic slid across the mud as if I’d hit the gas instead. I heard someone scream, even through the rolled-up windows. I steered into the skid trying to regain control, but I might as well have yanked the steering wheel loose for all the good it did me.
The very last thing I remember was seeing one of those damned orange larches careening through the windshield straight at me
February 6, 2015
Authors Supporting Authors: Carolyn Ridder Aspenson
What is your name? Carolyn Ridder Aspenson
Where are you from?
I live in Atlanta, GA but I was born in Indiana and spent 12 years in Indianapolis and 18 in the Chicago, IL suburbs
What genre are you in?
I write a paranormal cozy mystery series, The Angela Panther series and I'm also working on another series called The Kelly Monroe series, which is a cozy mystery series about a Georgia newspaper reporter who solves crimes, too. I also wrote a contemporary romance novella called The Inn At Laurel Creek and I'm going to be writing a few more novellas about the inn. I have a children's book in publication now, also. It's called Nana's Shining Star and is about a young lion cub whose grandmother passes and how he begins to understand what that means.
Please list your books and the year of publication.
Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Novel, April 2013
Unbreakable Bonds An Angela Panther Novel, March, 2014
Uncharted Territory An Angela Panther Novel, February, 2015 - RELEASED TODAY!
The Inn At Laurel Creek, October, 2014
Santa's Gift A Cumming Christmas Novella, November, 2013
Why are you an Author?
I've always loved writing but I never attempted to do make a living from it. I made the decision to write my first book, Unfinished Business after my mother died of lung cancer in 2009. I wanted to create a character to mirror my mom, so I could share her with others. One day after her death, I sat in a Starbucks and watched everyone going on with their lives while mine was forever changed. Frankly, it made me furious. I hated that this amazing woman was gone and no one cared. I wanted to show them what an amazing woman she was and what they'd missed. I wanted to find a way to keep her alive. When I first started the book is was incredibly depressing and I realized that wasn't right. My mom was spirited, sassy, fiercely loyal, funny, inappropriate, loving and a royal pain in the butt. She would hate for me to write about her in a depressing way. I went back and rewrote that first part and when I did, the character in the stories modeled after my mom (the character's name is Fran) ended up being the best part of the story. I bet my mom is dancing up a storm in Heaven because of Fran!
What inspires you?
Oh gosh, if I'm being honest, nothing. I know that sounds odd but I don't think external things have ever inspired me to do anything. For me, it's internal things...I wrote about my mom because I wanted her to live on, to be known. I've written other things because something within me felt the need to write. I've made changes in my life because of what I wanted or didn't want or how I felt or wanted to feel. I guess I feel that inspiration comes from within.
Where and what times during the day do you work best?
I am an early bird. EARLY. By noon, I've expended the best of my energy but that's because I'm usually up by 4 AM. I've started forcing myself to not get up that early so I'm hoping I can stay up past 10 at night. I can get things done in the afternoon but rarely do I do much of anything productive after 6 PM. I hate that, too!
Who is your target audience?
I think any woman who is a mom and has hit the place emotionally where they think they should go back to their own mother and say, "I'm sorry." Maybe they have an infant who isn't sleeping through the night yet. Maybe they've already got teenagers or maybe they're already a grandparent. It's truly any woman who can look at her mother and say, "I get it now. I get that you love me in a way no one else can, that you will always have my back and had my back even when you grounded me." My stories are about sassy strong women, who have their issues to overcome and rely on strong friendships and relationships to get them through it all.
How do you want your readers to feel as they read your book?
I want people to feel they want to keep reading, that they want to see what happens next. I want them to laugh one minute and then wipe a tear the next. I think I've done a decent job of that, too. I wanted the Angela Panther series to be an emotional roller coaster ride and I think it's just that. It's funny, it's heartwarming, it's heartbreaking. For me, Unfinished Business is my favorite of the series. I still cannot read the last two pages of that book without crying. That book is incredibly personal for me because it follows the path of exactly what happened in the ten months in my life after my mom died. There are many true elements in that story and when I read those last few pages, it brings up all of the emotions from those ten months.
What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring authors?
Read. Read as much as you possibly can. The more you read, the better you'll write.
Share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know.
I'm a big General Hospital fan. I've watched it since 7th grade (1979) and I still do.
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Unchartered Territory BLURB
#1 AMAZON bestselling author Carolyn Ridder Aspenson brings back Angela, Fran, and Mel for another paranormal cozy mystery adventure full of the same hilariously snarky banter and heart-tugging reconnections found in Unfinished Business and Unbreakable Bonds.
Just when psychic medium Angela Panther thinks she's got her gift figured out, the universe smacks her in the head with a curve ball, or three.
When an unidentified fourteen-year-old boy takes a dive off an interstate overpass, Detective Aaron Banner asks Angela to find out what really happened, and to whom. Only, the boy’s spirit has other plans for her—help another lost soul and forget about him.
But Angela's never been good at taking orders.
With the help of her dead-but-not-gone mother, Fran, and her best friend, Mel, who’s now newly single and on the prowl, Angela sets out to discover the truth about both the jumper and the girl he wants to help.
And boy, is she out of her league.
Armed with little more than their double lattes and a tiny pink bottle of wannabe pepper spray, Angela and Mel must venture far out of their comfort zone to solve two mysteries. But will it be enough to protect them from the dark side of Atlanta and its gun-toting teens and child abductors, so they can help the dead to finally rest in peace?
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CHAPTER ONE EXCERPT
Psychic mediums don't like hospitals. For us, hospitals are like shopping malls on Black Friday—overcrowded with people on a mission. Only in the hospital the people are dead. Since I'd grown to appreciate and accept my psychic gift I'd learned to despise hospitals. Forget the white, sterile walls, the incessant beeping of machines, or even the bland colored scrubs too big or too small on everyone who wore them, and a total fashion mistake if you asked me. None of that mattered to me because I was too focused on dodging the dead. It wasn't that I didn't want to help them. There were just so many one psychic medium could handle.
In recent months word about my gift made its rounds in the in-between—the place between our world and the afterlife, and I'd become a popular gal on the hospital circuit. The dead needed my help and flooded the hospital halls, vying for my attention by hovering near, and asking me questions.
"Are you her?"
"Is this Heaven?"
"The dog ate my life insurance policy two months before I died."
"The money for my funeral is in my sock drawer, inside the brown socks with the blue whales on them. I hate those socks, tell Marge to burn them but only after she gets the money."
"I need to get a message to my husband."
"Tell them not to bury me in the pink dress. I always hated that damn pink dress."
Frankly, it could be a real pain in the butt, but mostly it was just overwhelming and depressing. Yep, I hated hospitals. So when Detective Aaron Banner asked me to meet him at the front entrance to Powers Ferry Medical Center I hesitated, but since I'm a glutton for punishment and had unofficially signed on to help him when he needed me, I did it anyway.
I stood outside the front entrance, slowly pulling air in through my nose and blowing it out through my mouth. It's what I did after a good, hard run to slow my heart rate, and it was good for calming my nerves, too. And I needed to be calm for when the sudden onslaught of spirits begging for help bombarded me on the other side of the hospital doors.
Aaron kept a watchful, detective's eye on me as I went through the motions of my calming routine. He stayed back knowing not to interfere for fear of messing up my juju. He'd become familiar with my quirks and me over the few months we'd worked together and knew the drill well. Plus, I think it creeped him out a little, watching me imitate a woman in labor. When I finished I nodded, my signal to him that I was as calm and prepared as I could get. I wasn't actually calm, but I wasn't going to have an anxiety attack, either.
Brow furrowed, Aaron stood on the mat, holding the electronic door open for me. "Thanks for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." I patted him on the shoulder. "Seriously, I hope I can help."
We walked inside together, and in a flash the smell of bleach cleaner engulfed my nasal passages. I rubbed my nose, hoping to stop the scent from sticking. "Yuck."
"I hate the bleach," Aaron said. "It actually burns my eyes. If I could walk around with them closed, I would."
"Me too, but for a totally different reason."
The dead were everywhere. Hovering beside me, floating above me, and following behind me were spirits in all shapes and sizes, of all races, both genders and a plethora of ages. The hall buzzed with energy, so much so I couldn't tell what was what. I became dizzy and stopped, leaning against the main desk to gather my composure.
"You okay?" Aaron's face showed genuine concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I bent toward his ear. "This place is full of spirits."
His head rotated from one side to the other. "If you say so."
I straightened my arms out in front of me and clasped my hands together, stretching out my shoulder blades. "I'm fine. Let's get this over with."
We continued walking toward the elevators as a spirit hovering to my left jabbered incessantly in my ear.
"She needs the keys. Tell her they're in the basement on my workbench, under the Playboy magazine. The one with the twins in the centerfold. She'll never forgive me if she doesn't find the keys, and boy she'll be mad when she sees the magazine. I've hidden them down there for years because she never goes down there. Please, can you tell her?"
"Where is she?"
Aaron slanted his head to the right, but didn't speak.
The spirit pointed to a gray-haired woman sitting alone on the bench across from the entrance.
I held my index finger up to Aaron. "Gimme a sec, okay?"
He nodded.
The spirit and I walked over to the woman. It seemed like she was staring right through me, her eyes not focused on anything in particular. I crouched down in front of her, my eyes meeting hers. "Hi, my name is Angela. I'm supposed to tell you that…" I glanced at the spirit. "What's your name?"
"Harvey. I'm her husband."
"Got it."
I turned back to the woman. She still had the lost expression on her face. "Harvey wanted me to tell you that you'll find the keys on his workbench in the basement, under the Playboy magazine with the twins in the centerfold."
That got her attention. "My Harvey? What keys?"
I peered up at Harvey, who hovered upright. "What are the keys for?"
"The safe. It's got my life insurance policy and some money in it. Tell her I'm sorry about the Playboy."
"Harvey said the keys are to the safe and there's money and a life insurance policy in there for you."
The woman was dazed, and I didn't know if what I'd said sunk in. "Are you alone? Can I call someone for you?"
"I see him, you know. That's him, right there." She pointed to Harvey.
I glanced at Harvey, who shrugged.
I'd never experienced anyone other than a child see a spirit with me, so I wasn't sure what to say. "Oh, well…"
The woman's eyes widened and her mouth opened, but before she could speak, her head dropped forward.
"Ma'am?"
"Mary," Harvey said. "Is that you?"
Harvey's wife's spirit hovered next to his.
"Well, crap." I flipped around and yelled to Aaron, "I think this woman just died, get a doctor!"
A nurse at the desk heard me and ran over. Three other nurses followed and within seconds I was pushed aside while they worked on Mary.
"It's not gonna work," I told Aaron. "She's already gone."
"Gone?"
I nodded. "She and her husband just shimmered away."
"Jesus. You okay?"
I shook my shoulders. "I'm fine. Let's go."
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LINKS
Please visit Carolyn's website and sign up for her newsletter. You will get a free download of Santa’s Gift A Cumming Christmas Novella emailed to you when you confirm your sign up.
Website: carolynridderaspenson.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/carolynridderaspensonauthor
Twitter: @awritingwoman
Purchase link for Amazon (the books are currently on Amazon only except in paperback, which are available on Barnes & Noble also.
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carolyn+ridder+aspenson
February 3, 2015
Authors Supporting Authors: Allison Maruska
What is your name? Allison Maruska
Where are you from?
I’m a Colorado native. I get to experience 300 days of sunshine a year, and I can see the mountains from my yard. Can’t beat it.
What genre are you in?
Mystery and suspense, usually. My current project is a Young Adult dystopian and urban fantasy mashup.
Please list your books and the year of publication.
I have two books that will be released soon. One is a YA mystery called Project Renovatio, which is in publication with 4RV Publishing. It’s the first of a three-part series about a brother and sister who learn they were genetically engineered to survive a global disaster, and the organization that created them wants to control their lives. They have to confront the organization if they want to keep their freedom.
The adult suspense that I’m publishing myself is called The Fourth Descendant. It’s about four strangers who are brought together by a century-old secret buried in a Richmond courthouse. The secret is potentially more world-changing than they could have imagined.
*Look for The Fourth Descendant's release tomorrow, February 4!
Why are you an Author?
I have stories to tell, and I have a knack for telling them. I’ve been an extremely avid reader basically since I learned how to read. I love the stories that pull me in and make me stay up too late because I just have to see what happens. Those are the kinds of stories I want to write.
After years of thinking about it, my husband’s truck is what gave me the nudge to finally write novels. It’s a funny story that I’ve included on my blog - http://allisonmaruska.com/2015/01/15/funny-friday-the-one-with-the-truck/
What inspires you?
Initial ideas seem to come randomly, but the stories develop after asking lots of questions.
For Project Renovatio, I had the characters in my head for a couple years before I figured out their story, and the idea for that came when I was researching GMO foods – what if there are GMO people? How would they fit into the world? It was such a lightbulb moment that I remember where I was sitting when it happened.
For The Fourth Descendant, I wanted to see if I could write a compelling story that included four diverse strangers – what could bring them together? Something in history? After some research, they’re in a courthouse basement unlocking a four-lock safe that was left by their ancestors.
Another idea for a book I’ve barely started came from a news report about a car accident involving three men – two died, and one disappeared. Sounds like a juicy novel beginning, doesn’t it?
Where and what times during the day do you work best?
I can tell you the best time of year for me is spring and summer, partly because of my work schedule (I work in public education) and partly because the longer days help my mood and allow for more creativity. During the day, I work best when my kids are busy with something or asleep. Ha.
Who is your target audience?
Teenagers and adults. My YA books have strong crossover appeal, and The Fourth Descendant is written for an adult audience. Also, my cat seemed to enjoy the story when I was reading it out loud. Are pets a target audience? Hmmm.
How do you want your readers to feel as they read your book?
I want them to feel like the story is easy to follow and moves at a good pace. Advance reviewers have said my stories play in their heads like movies, flowing from one scene to the next. That’s what I want. Something readers can enjoy and lose track of time while reading it.
Of all the scenes you’ve written, which is your favorite?
Without giving too much away, one scene in The Fourth Descendant jumps out. It’s about how one of the characters, Jonah, relates to his adult brother, who has special needs. This is one paragraph from that scene:
Moments like these made Jonah truly appreciate Samuel. Despite his brother’s limitations, he could connect with people in ways that others couldn’t or didn’t want to. While anyone else would listen to Jonah’s song with a mild interest and maybe a hope that Jonah’s career would soar, Jonah believed Samuel felt every note, taking every line into his being, not caring if Jonah was an amateur or a platinum-album artist. As he sang, his emotions caught in his throat, and he had to close his eyes to power through the rest of the song.
What is one piece of advice you would give aspiring authors?
Writing is basically spilling your guts onto paper. It’s taking the most vulnerable parts of yourself and putting them out there for the world to treasure or tear apart. Some people will love what you do. Some won’t. Keep writing anyway. Write for that one person who needs to hear your words at the exact moment your book lands in their hands.
Also, it doesn’t hurt to start a wine budget. Just saying.
Share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know.
I love to laugh. It’s probably one of the best things about life. I enjoy making people laugh, and I’m always up to hear a funny story. So if you have one, hop on my Twitter or Facebook page and share away!
