31st Giveaway

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WRITING IS SUBJECTIVE

There were a lot of disappointed romance writers this week. Finalists for the RITA and Golden Heart were announced. As I scanned down the list of names, I knew very few of them, but I knew the publishers--big guns, all. Not a small publisher in the bunch.

There WAS one name I didn't see--mine.

Did I really expect to see it? No. I knew other writers who entered, had read their most excellent books and frankly felt their stories were a couple shades better than mine. Still, I've learned long ago writing is subjective. So is judging. Throw all that into the mix and maybe, just maybe I stood a teeny chance. Then again...maybe not.

We don't all like the same thing. How often has someone recommended a book to you? One this person inisisted was awesome. You begin reading, eager to enjoy the plot and characters. Ten pages later, you're still struggling to get into it. By page forty-two, you're looking at the publisher's name, wondering who the heck was dumb enough to put a thing like this out on the market.

I felt that way about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. The book reigned on the NYT's Best Sellers list for months. I fell alseep during the long chapter on economics and gave up the ghost before I reached the mid-way point. It just wasn't for me. Loved the movie though. Both of them.

This often happens with reviewers who pan a book or short story. It just wasn't for them. Writing is subjective, after all. Still, a bad review stings. To recieve a poor score on a contest entered chafs. Why couldn't they see the beauty in the book? Because...we're all different. Don't allow a bad review or a low contest score to prevent you from writing your next piece. We don't write for others anyway. We write for our souls.

Pinterest

Okay, so here it is. The long-awaited, much anticipated (oh, how I lie to myself) post on Pinterest!

So here's the basic idea, straight from the "About" page on Pinterest: Pinterest is a virtual pinboard that allows you to organize and share all the beautiful things you find on the web. You can browse pinboards created by other people to discover new things and get inspiration from people who share your interests. People use pinboards to plan weddings, decorate their homes, and share recipes.

So basically, you show off your stuff, look at other people's stuff, and re-pin other people's stuff on your boards if you really like it. First, you have to create some boards. As far as I know, you can create as many as you like. So far, I have boards for food I like, books, and words/phrases/sayings I like. A few people I know are really into using it to find and share recipes.

You can log in and even register using your Facebook or Google account. I wonder who'll take over the world first. Apple, Facebook, or Google? Hm... It's pretty easy use, and it's fun. But the big question is, is it here to stay? I remember when people were like, Twitter is such a fad. It'll be gone in no time. I think it's fairly obvious by now that Twitter's not going anywhere any time soon. But does Pinterest give us the sort of interaction and excitement of other social media? I think it's doing a pretty good job of that so far. And it's handy. Especially for gathering together ideas for cooking, decorating, etc.

So, do you Pinterest? Are you gonna? Follow me if so, and I'll follow back! http://pinterest.com/nicoledgreen10/

A little bit of fun.

Today I am keeping it simple!  very simple :-)  That said, there is a seriously side to today's little bit of fun.

I have often mentioned how often I need to remind myself to be consciously grateful for the things and people in my life.  Well, I got to thinking that there are a lot of everyday ITEMS we use in our daily lives and simply take them for granted.  Spoons, forks, bins, water, electricity, to name just a few.  So a few years ago  I offered just one word to my  local meditation group, and it was amazing what everyone came up with.  And we had some wonderful laughs.  From then on, we always included a one-word meditation.

So today I am offering the word BUCKET for you to meditate on. 

 And I hope you have a lot of fun with it.

Bengals...Once A Walk On the Wild Side

Free-pet-wallpapers.com

Bengals came about from breeding the forest-dwelling Asian Leopard Cat with a domestic. The Asian Leopard Cat is cat-size and resides in Southern Asia.
Bengal. Even the name sounds exotic. These beautiful creatures have a long, muscular body with large random or tabby horizontal spots. The average weight of a Bengal is seven to twelve pounds. Their head is a modified wedge with high cheekbones. They have a large nose and small ears. Their mysterious-looking eyes are oval and set wide apart. One of their standout characteristics is their coats. The Bengals coat is short, soft and thick and very soft. Many of them have an iradescent glow to their coats that come from a glitter gene. The colors range from snow leopard to marbled to brown tabby to seal lynx point and so on.
The Bengals personality is energetic, playful and friendly. One fun fact. They aren't scared of water and some even enjoy the occasional swim. They rate high on the cat Richter scale of intelligence and can be taught tricks.
Health issues for Bengals include: cataracts,retinal atrophy and cardiomyopathy.
Bengals average lifespan is twelve to sixteen years.
Interested in adding one of these beauties to your household? Check out Bengal Rescues.

Featured Finds: Dark Heirloom by J.D. Brown

I feel like a giddy girl getting to share this find with you.  From the first time I read this book, and it was even in its unrevised draft back then, I set myself to be its #1 Fan.  When I selected this piece to critique, I had my doubts that I'd be able to be much help.  After all, vampire stories just aren't my choice of read.  I was afraid I'd judge it far too harshly.  But, I went into it with the thought that I'd offer suggestions on the the mechanics.  Boy, did I prove to be a fool.


This MS, and I don't think J.D. will mind me mentioning this, was 120k words.  (It's now a 90k word novel).  I started it on a Friday afternoon and by Saturday night, I was done.  My eyelids turned into sandpaper, but I finished that thing in record time for me.  I promptly emailed her and went nuts.  "What?  That's it?"  And I proceeded to tell her everything I expected to come next, what I thought this and that would end up being, and jabbered on  (albeit by text) about the characters.  I love, love, love the characters!


Oh, yeah.  I'm the #1 Fan of Dark Heirloom, book one of the Ema Marx series.  I'm proud to introduce you to J.D. Brown.

I wish I could say I’d always wanted to be a writer, but that simply isn’t true. When adults asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always confidently answered that I wanted to be a veterinarian. My mission in life was to be the provocative voice of the animal kingdom. There was even a time when I thought I’d live in Africa like Jane Goodall.

But high school and hormones have a way of changing a child’s dream and what followed was a string of disjoined college classes and even rockier stream of dead-end jobs, until about four years ago when the office I was working at closed down due to economic problems. I was laid off and facing unemployment at the beginning of this economic crises.  Trying to find a new job was suddenly a giant pain in the butt.

With very little money, I couldn’t even afford to leave the house much. But I had a laptop and abundance of “me” time and I got this crazy idea that maybe I could write a book.

I admit, I’d had the idea before, but I always quickly dismissed it. I hated writing essays and term papers in school so I didn’t think I’d enjoy writing a book. I’d never taken a writing a creative writing class before, I knew absolutely nothing about the craft or the process. And besides, weren’t authors like really smart? Didn’t they major in English Literature? The last thing I wanted to do was brave college again.

But I thought, hey, it’s not like anyone is going to read this. I’m just passing time before I lose my mind.

So laptop and I went back into my room and one thing lead to another. Next thing I know, I’m head over heels in love with writing fiction and laptop and I had our first beautiful bundle of joy titled Dark Heirloom. I suddenly knew in my heart that I wanted to be a published author. It just felt right. So I took as many workshops as I could to hone my craft and learn about the publishing business. It wasn’t easy. It took me three years to whip Dark Heirloom into something worthy of being published, but somehow, laptop and I managed to pull through and I haven’t looked back since.

I’m still pretty shocked that I made it this far. The odd thing is my family and friends don’t seem all that surprised. They say things like, “Well, you were always reading. You had more books than toys, growing up.”

Huh. Couldn’t they have told me sooner that writing would be my calling?

In Dark Heirloom the readers live vivaciously through Ema Marx, a young woman who is turned into a vampire by Chapter Two. I can only think of one other character in the story that is human and that person plays a very minor role. The rest of the cast and the story itself are entirely of the paranormal caravan.

I knew right from the beginning that I wanted my readers to get up close and personal with my vampire characters and experience the culture of an underground society first hand – as if they were an exchange student in a foreign land.

Because Ema is newly turned, she still clings to human habits, keeping the reader comfortable with relatable – and witty – main character...

Dark Heirlom

Excerpt 1

My reflection haunted me as I stood with my forehead pressed against the mirror in the bathroom. I couldn’t feel the glass. My brain told me it should’ve been cold and hard, but all my skin felt was pressure.

I looked like a zombie. My tan had disappeared, replaced by liquid white, my skin a numb rubbery latex. My teeth fanged like an animal’s. My eyes…

Two days ago, my eyes were bright brown. Now they were the darkest shade of black, like onyx beads. The irises blended into freakishly wide pupils. Little specks of scarlet glittered in tiny splashes around the irises. Shuddering, I stepped away from the mirror.

Vampire.

I couldn’t believe it. One thing was for sure; they weren’t human. Humans couldn’t fly or walk through walls. Humans couldn’t hear or smell things from miles away with precise accuracy. They couldn’t see distinct detail or vivid color in the dark of night.

Aliens, ghosts, monsters…it didn’t matter what name they chose. The fact remained the same; they were convinced I was one of them now.

Blurb

“You’re a vampire” is so not what Ema Marx wants to hear when she wakes from a two-day coma in a cryptic yet exquisite castle in northern Finland. Unfortunately, it explains a lot. Like why she’s able to see in the dark and walk through solid objects. What she doesn’t understand is why the other vampires expect her to have all the answers. It’s their fault she turned into one of them…right?


Jalmari’s hatred for his old-man intensifies when he’s ordered to bring that troublesome girl to their castle. He has a clan to run, there’s no time for babysitting newborn vampires no matter how they were converted to their culture. But when a two-thousand-year-old premonition threatens to take the crown and his life, Jalmari sees no other choice than to take out the catalyst. Ema Marx. Fortunately for Ema, she could also be the clan’s only savior.


The race to figure out her vampiric origins is on. And maybe she’ll get the hang of the blood-drinking gig along the way…

Book Trailer

Excerpt 2

In the following scene, Ema is helping a female vampire named Leena cast a spell to open the gates to the underworld. As you’ll notice, Leena ends up doing most of the work…

“Why are we in the dungeon?” 

“It is easier to open the gate to the underworld when you are technically already underground.” She spoke matter-of-factly as she laid Jalmari’s paralyzed body on the floor in the center of the dungeon. She pulled out the tiny red candles from the knapsack and placed them in a perfect circle around Jalmari’s body.

“Don’t just stand there.” She tossed a lighter at me. “We only have a few hours before the nightshade wears off.”

I started lighting candles. “Won’t a few hours be long enough?”

“How should I know? I’ve never been to the underworld before, have you?”

I rolled my eyes and ignored her sarcasm.

She unpacked more things from the knapsack and set them down near Jalmari’s feet. “Here, put this on.” She tossed a bright cherry-colored shawl at me. I hadn’t seen a shawl since the last time I saw my grandmother. I frowned at the ugly thing. “What for?”

“You have to wear red to enter the underworld.” She produced a sporty red jacket for herself, looking much more hip than I did with my granny shawl.

Leena took the small pot of red and yellow face paint and smeared some across her cheeks and forehead. She held the pot out and motioned for me to do the same. “For the same reason as the shawl,” she explained.

After I smeared the paint across my face, she handed me a red apple. “Hold this. Guard it with your life. We will need it in the underworld, unless you want this entire effort to be a failure.”

I swallowed and hugged the apple to my chest.

She took out the skein of wool and tied one end securely around Jalmari’s ankle. She put the rest of the wool down and opened her spell book. I watched in silence, in doubt, in disbelief, in a million other pessimistic ways, as Leena chanted words in a language I never heard before.

She moved her arms through the air in a rhythmical way as she danced around Jalmari and the candles. Her hips swayed slowly arching her back as her torso rolled in fluid, drawn-out motions. She looked very graceful and sure of herself.

Then, her pace quickened. She chanted faster. The movements became wild and rigid. She slashed at the air. She jumped and whooped and made all sorts of screeching sounds. Coal-black hair puffed in frizzes about her triangular face and her eyes glowed like green fire. Her lips moved quickly as she chanted faster and faster until her ringing voice became a sharp buzz of consonants and vowels.

I clung to the apple. I clung to the apple good.

Dark Heirloom is available through MuseItUpPublishing.com.

And you can connect with J.D. Brown at her website, http://AuthorJDBrown.com, or around the web:

Facebook Fan Page

Twitter Profile

J.D.’s Blog

J.D.’s Book Club

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like:

Charlene's Featured Finds: Author Marsha A. Moore

Amazing Worlds of Steampunk

Social Media and Writing

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Be sure to join us for the Night Writer's March 31st! Giveaway!  Check out all the prizes you could win on our Events Page, or click the banner below.

Until next time, may your dreams be magical.  

      Charlene

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Charlene A. Wilson is an author of paranormal suspenseful tales that take you to other dimensions. She weaves magic, lasting love, and intrigue into multi-layered story lines to immerse you into the lives of her characters.

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SPRING BRINGS LEPRECHAUNS, FLOWERS and WORDS

SPRING BRINGS LEPRECHAUNS, FLOWERS and WORDS

A giggle builds up inside me over the changes spreading out before my eyes. Everything is coming to life after a long sleep and stretching out to grasps spring. I often wonder as a writer if we see deeper than most people. I’m sure artists must see beneath the surface, so why not authors.

Spring is filled with this bubbling excitement. The changes are multiplying every day, little things happen all around us. Like the trees and plants getting ready to blossom the words are budding. Our senses are stirring just as birch tree branches look like they are dipped in scarlet paint.

Renewed life moves through nature and the words ignite our senses. The words tickle your senses as they reach out and stretch with life. Open your mind to the changes of spring and your thoughts to the words.

Can you feel that hero coming to life? Is your heroine watching him wake? Let them speak to you through awakening movement. Remember, only you can allow yourself to write.

Jewel Adams

www.hippiechicks68.com

Homemade Simple and Easy Refried Beans

At our house, we love Mexican food. It is our go-to meal. Tacos, enchiladas, nachos, you name it, we eat it. I am originally from Kansas City, Kansas and grew up within a stone’s throw to some of the best authentic Mexican food, both restaurant and homemade, you can imagine. My wife grew up in Hutchinson, Kansas, home of the Anchor Inn, one of the finest Mexican restaurants I have ever stepped into. We love Mexican food.

When I started working at Kansas State University in Manhattan in 1988, I quickly scouted the town and found Vera’s, a little family owned hole-in-the-wall restaurant off the beaten path. Mama Vera made the best pan fried tacos in North America, but her homemade refried beans were remarkable. My mouth waters to think about them they were that good. Unfortunately, Vera’s closed down in the mid-90’s and Mama Vera’s refried bean retired with her.

For years, we settled on store-bought canned refried beans. Sure, they tasted fine, but nothing ever quite reached the pinnacle of Mama Vera’s beans. A couple summers ago, we went on this homemade food kick. Jams, tortillas, bread, etc. It was fun and a reminder of the joy in making things from scratch. My wife found this recipe for Refried Beans Without the Refry one day on allrecipes.com. It sounded too simple, it sounded too easy, but we gave it a try.

Oh, boy! They were wonderful! The closest thing to old Mama Vera’s specialty I have found in twenty years. And the best part? No lard or added fat. Almost a health food, wouldn’t you say? If you like Mexican food and are looking for a cheap, easy and tasty way to make a batch of refried beans, then check this out.

Refried Beans Without the Refry
Ingredients
1 onion, peeled and sliced
3 cups dry pinto beans, rinsed
Jalapeno pepper or pickled jalapeno (to taste)
2 tablespoons of minced garlic
1 tablespoon of salt
1 ¾ teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
⅛ teaspoon ground cumin (optional)

Dash (or a DASH!!!) of red pepper flakes
9 cups water

Directions
1. Place the onion, rinsed beans, jalapeno, garlic, salt, pepper and cumin into a crock pot slow cooker. Pour in the water and stir well.
2. Cook on high for 8 hours (we use medium setting on our crock pot which I think models the surface temperature of the sun.)
3. Add water if necessary to keep beans covered.
4. After beans are cooked, mash with a potato masher. Smash, smash, smash then stir and repeat until achieve desired consistency.
5. Serve immediately and/or separate into containers for freezing. These freeze very well.

I wish I had a good picture to show you, but I don’t have one. I can tell you that not only do these beans taste fantastic.You can season them as you wish, make them standard beans or make them flamethrowers. I personally like mine with extra black pepper to go with ample jalapeno. And the wonderful smell that fills the house is bonus. Enjoy!

Calligraphic Art

When you mention calligraphy most folks immediately imagine fancy lettering on wedding invitations. But! There is so much more to calligraphy. In its more extreme forms it's breathtaking art. Take that picture up there...it's certainly fancy lettering, but that's like describing a sequoia as a tree.

Some of the most elaborate calligraphic art is produced by Islamic calligraphers.

This beautiful, graceful example depicts a cat.

When we relegate calligraphy to the category of fancy lettering, we miss the boat. If you have a few moments, Google a search for images of calligraphic art. You'll be amazed at the beauty and talent.

anny

The Fascination & Romance of Herbal Lore

The love potion in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream has been analyzed by a fellow of the Royal Society of Chemistry in England. Doctor Sell thinks it was made up of heart’s ease (violas) blended with the sweetness of musk roses. In the play, Oberon drops the flowery decoction onto the eyelids of the sleeping Titania, but the good doctor cautions against trying this at home. Rather, opt for the nape of the neck or the décolleté. Men just love the décolleté, breasts pushed up by a tightly drawn corset for those of you who didn’t realize.

In ages past it was thought that a young maiden could toss a sprig of St. John’s Wort over her shoulder and soon learn the name of the man she was to marry. Leafy branches of this herb were also hung in windows to ward off evil spirits and burnt to protect against devils, goblins and witches. Bear this in mind, if you’re troubled by them. Legend has it that angelica was revealed in a dream by an angel to cure the bubonic plague. All parts of the plant were deemed of great value against enchantment. And don’t forget boughs of the sacred rowan tree to ward off evil spells.

Feeling timid? Anoint your feet with catnip tea to embolden yourself. Fennel seed is said to boost desire. Lavender is “of ‘especiall good use for all griefes and paines of the head.” For those of you who would be true, rosemary is the symbol of fidelity between lovers. Traditionally, a wreath of the aromatic herb was worn by brides. Rosemary is also the herb of remembrance left at the grave of loved ones.~

*I’m teaching a class on Herbal Lore and the Historic Medicinal Uses of Herbs in May for Celtic Hearts Romance Writers—open to the public.  Click the link for more information and scroll down until you come to the listing for my class.  You can be an active participant or a lurker–entirely up to you.

Images from our garden by daughter Elise~

Change is Inevitable

I have to admit I am a doom-sayer. The moon might be knocked out of orbit, the Earth might be struck by a comet, the sun might go nova; the list of apocalyptic scenarios seems endless. One problem however, is far more plausible, but we have been ignoring it for a long time: population. Sometime between December and January the world's population reached seven billion people. If current trends continue we will have nine billion human Earth residents in thirty years. Think of people driven to fight for water, food, a place to live, a way to earn a living. Paul Gilding, an Australian spokesman on economic and environmental issues has given a talk on TED 'The Earth is Full,' and I urge you to listen to him. It is rather long, eighteen minutes, and this feels like forever in our instant, in-a-minute age, but I believe worth the time.

Scientists have been warning us about cataclysmic changes coming since the '60s. Our governments and our leaders have pushed this problem aside. We've ignored facts in front of our faces. We have pushed other species sharing our world out of their habitats, driving many to the edge of extinction. We have squandered arable land in our ever-expanding goal for everyone to have their own house. We have polluted our fresh and salt-water resources and our atmosphere without much thought. The truth, however, is the Earth's resources are finite and cannot support all of us with the economic standards we now live by. We consider clean, drinkable water, food, and jobs as rights rather than resources. Think of having to fight for them rather than the for the remaining coal and oil resources. We already have populations starving, others fighting over their country's resources. These are the battles of the future.

Is the case hopeless? Not necessarily, but I believe it will take a global paradigm change, which seems impossible now. We hardly seem able to find consensus on any topic. I'll leave you with this quote from Paul Guilding: "It takes a good crisis to get us going. When we feel fear and we fear loss we are capable of quite extraordinary things."
Rhobin

Emotional Cleaning

The more I read these blogs, the more I find myself motivated to get things done! My first inspiration was when Sherry blogged about the ten minutes a day cleaning plan. I put my mind to it and here it is spring and I have made great strides in getting organized. I must confess, there were times when I was so inspired that I didn't stop at ten minutes, but that was for more involved cleaning, what I like to call emotional cleaning. Case in point, my closet with my small, medium and large wardrobes. My first sojourn into the dark recesses of my clothes world was indeed ten minutes. That's all the time it took to remove the small wardrobe.

The next time I stood in front of the closet was a much longer proposition. Not that I have so many clothes, I don't, but I do have many that are outdated and don't, nor did they ever, fit properly. But they were purchased with high hopes. I once truly loved them. For some reason they spoke to me from the showroom floor. They said persuasive things like "you would look great in this" or "this would be perfect for the Parrotheads meetings" or the very worst, "you would look slimmer and taller in this". And the saleslady would simply back them up.

Of course they lied. Every time I thought I might wear one of them, something wasn't right. I have learned through trial and error, that if it doesn't fit and make you feel wonderful when you try it on, it isn't going to get better. Even if you lose ten lbs. Even if you grow two inches taller.

My next visit was very lengthy. It involved trying on each and every piece of clothing I own. I started with the dresses in the back, the ones I haven't worn in years. But I keep telling myself that circumstances may change at any time and I may be forced to drag them out and wear them to a new job, or find myself invited to some nice affair that requires a dress. Never mind that I would be a laughing stock in my ten year old frocks, they looked good back then!

All the while, as I discarded dress after dress, I was a laughing stock, to myself! Good heavens, the last time I wore that outfit, I didn't need to lose ten lbs!

I moved on to other things. Some were very easy to toss. They truly didn't fit, not my body nor my life style now. Some of them were heart breaking! I remember wearing that to the hospital when one of my grandchildren was born. Or that on a date with my soon to be husband. Or that on the plane on our trip to Las Vegas to get married. These weren't just clothes, they were memories. Clothes I have ignored for a long time. Just knowing they were there was some kind of comfort I suppose.

I guess you can see where I'm going with this. I know very well that I will never wear those clothes again. I'm keeping them as reminders of happy times, or maybe skinnier times. And my really special memories, the notes, a pressed flower or two, baby bracelets, all those really precious things from a lifetime of loving and living, are contained in a box on the shelf. But the clothes, whats with the clothes?

I spent a long afternoon really thinking about those things. They aren't pictures. They aren't little scribbled valentines written by a five year old in Kindergarten. They aren't a necklace with a broken chain. They are just clothes. Ill fitting, out of style, space stealing pieces that don't really mean all that much, not when I stand back and really think about it.

So, now, thanks to Sherry's post about ten minutes a day, I embarked on a journey of self discovery and getting organized. And now I am! My closet is cleaned out and I can say I can and will wear everything in there, and if I don't wear it some time in the next six months (or maybe a year) they will be gone too. As for the memories those clothes evoked, I still have them. They didn't go anywhere.

Most of them went to charity. Some that were from very special occasions, like the dress I wore at that little chapel in Las Vegas when I married my husband, or a skirt that was made of the most beautiful fabric I have ever seen, or even the darling little cow buttons on a blouse, I cut up and made the sweetest little quilt. Its here with me now, draped over the back of my desk chair. It makes me smile every time I look at it.

Now my helpful friends, my next project is my craft cabinets. Any good advice? Will I ever finish that huge cross stitch of a school bus? Or etch that vase? Or make anything out of all that fabric? Or make doll house furniture again?

Truly, I am not a candidate for that TV show Hoarders. But I do have lots of craft items and many I have had for a long time. What if I get rid of all of it and suddenly find I must make something?

Off the Keyboard | Award-Winning Author Sarah Grimm: Taking History to Heart with Beth Trissel

Off the Keyboard | Award-Winning Author Sarah Grimm: Taking History to Heart with Beth Trissel: Thanks for having me in your little corner of the universe, Sarah. I’m reflecting on how taking history to heart has influenced my writing,...

Traveling Because I Love Baseball

Earlier this month we spent 10 days focusing on the St. Louis Cardinals spring training camp in Jupiter, Florida. This year we were there too early to attend any of the Grapefruit League games, but we enjoyed just watching our team on the baseball fields behind Roger Dean Stadium. Six were in use by the St. Louis Cardinals, and the ones with most of the players were a long walk away. When rain and wind didn't close things down, we spent most of our time on the stadium fields although we had a condo on the beach at Singer Island. Lunch at Mugg's right across from the stadium was a special treat. As I've probably mentioned before, I love sports bars and look for them wherever we go. I don't know many sports bars like Mugg's that provide scenic views as well as sounds from the nearby stadium.

Fans Waiting - MM Sikes photo

Some days I joined in the line of people by the entrance gate to the parking lot where Cardinals players and other personnel park. Rain or shine, fans were always waiting there, controlled by stadium aides dressed in orange flowered shirts. Everyone hopes a player will stop his car on the way out and sign autographs. Some do, but most don't.

Most evenings, we dined at the Islander restaurant at the Palm Beach Shores Resort on Singer Island where the lobster dinner each week is a featured treat. We feasted on 1 1/2 pound lobsters shipped from Maine earlier in the day.

Since I'm such a baseball fanatic, as my mother called me, I wonder why I have never written a baseball book or story. Perhaps if I did, traveling to baseball camp wouldn't be as much fun.

Are any of you sports fans? I'd love to hear about your experiences.

The Strength of Our Creativity

Blade of grass emerging from the snow.

Grass. You can step on it, cut it, ignore it, but more often than not, grass survives. Cover it with a child's inflatable pool and it lies in wait for you to tend to it again. Heck it even lives through the dog pooping on it.

I sometimes think our creativity is like a blade of grass. When stormy relationships freeze our emotions, our creativity often pokes through as if it wants to announce it's still with us and everything will be all right.

The world steps on us with various pressures causing us to become too busy to tend to our creativity. Yet, lo and behold, it keeps on growing in our sub-conscious. Family duties overwhelm, and still our creativity survives. Just as it flourishes when the world poops on us.

Why is that? What makes our creativity so strong that it survives neglect, criticism, outside pressures and internal doubts? I'm not entirely sure. I like to think it's part of our DNA -- the lovely part, the part that keeps our minds questioning, our souls yearning and our eyes seeing the beauty around us.

As Spring rolls into our lives with all her beauty, grass will once again grow...and grow. Allow your creativity to grow, too. Take time every day to either write several paragraphs, to read a few stanzas of poetry, to put brush to canvas or wonder at the growth of a flower. Our creativities don't require much, just room to spread and display its varied beauty.  Showcase your creativity this Spring. Write on!

Katniss Everdeen Is Following Me?

Okay, so I know I promised Pinterest this time, but a) an interesting topic came to mind, and I thought I would blog about it in honor of the The Hunger Games movie release on March 23!!! You can get tickets now! Ican'tbelieveit'ssoclose!!! Okay, I'm done fangirling over THG. At least for now. And b) Besides, about Pinterest? I haven't really been researching it like I said I would. Whoops... Next time. Promise!

But back to Katniss Everdeen (who is awesome, by the way. If you haven't read the books, you really should). So I got this notification from twitter about Katniss Everdeen following me. This one's a fan, but I've seen authors do this, too. Tweet as one of their characters. How do you feel about this? Are you followed by any characters? Do you tweet as your characters?

I guess it's kind of fun to get tweets in the voice of a character, but it must be time consuming to tweet as multiple people. And kind of mentally confusing. Unless you only tweet as one character, and you don't tweet as yourself. Still, it takes me a while and some mental "space" to get into a character's head/voice (but maybe that's just me). It's hard enough for me to think of things to tweet as myself. Tweeting as a character? That seems to be inviting burnout. I do many things that invite burn out, though, so...yeah. But I suppose it could be fun. Especially with characters who behave badly. And if you enjoy it, go for it. As for me, I haven't come across any of Katniss's tweets yet--twitter is so fast-paced!--but I'm kind of curious as to what they say.

The One Minute Meditation

There are times when time itself seems to get away from us.  Why? 

Is it because life is going faster? 

Unlikely.

 Is it lack of organisation? 

For some people, very possibly.

For others it may be their days are so full up they simply don’t take time out to smell the daisies.

So how do you find time to fit in meditation? 

Any meditation?

Well you could try the One Minute Meditation.

Before I take you further with this concept let us step sideways and examine the difference between ‘one moment’ and ‘one minute’.

While the ‘moment’ may be intended to last one minute or perhaps even less, more often than not it becomes elastic.

A minute lasts for 60 seconds. Not shorter.  Not longer. Sixty seconds out of a time that seems to be spinning out of control.  And it only takes sixty seconds to start regaining control of that missing time.

So in this instant it is important that the One Minute concept is taken literally.  To begin with the use of a timer will be very helpful, and allow the meditator to concentrate on the meditation rather than fretting about keeping to the single minute.

Once you become accustomed to meditating for a single minute, you will find yourself doing it at strategic times in your life without giving it a though.  So let’s get started.

And to begin with you will need that timer.

Find a quiet spot, - for this meditation you can use the ‘loo’ or bathroom and lock yourself in if you have to.

Make yourself comfortable set your timer, and count your breaths.  Sixty seconds – you can do that.

Or - you can set your time and let your mind focus on your dream holiday.  No expectations, no plans, just the soothing sensation you get from thinking about that special dream holiday.

The benefit of the one minute meditation is that when you become accustomed to the practise you can use it in moments of high tension to deliberately relax yourself; you can do it while waiting to go into an interview, or when a work colleague irritates you.  You can use it for almost anything that comes to mind.

The One Minute meditation thus becomes a very powerful tool or weapon in your arsenal when dealing with some of the curveballs life throws at you.

And we all have time for ‘a minute’, don’t we?

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http://www.sherrygloag.com

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The Hypoallergenic Balinese

Free Pet Wallpapers

Are you looking for a cat that is both independent and docile? Yes? Then keep looking, this kitty is not for you. What about quiet? Again not for you. But if you're after a cat that is sensitive to your moods and willing to talk you into feeling better, maybe you should consider the Balinese.
A Balinese resembles a long-haired Siamese. But its not to be mistaken for a Himalayan. A Himalayan is stockier and has more of the gentle Persian's personality.
These beauties have a wedge-shaped head instead of a round face. They have large pointed ears and almond-shaped eyes that are a deep, beautiful blue. Their dark marks color the entire face and give a mask-like affect.
A real positive of this cat: they are one of seven breeds that are considered hypoallergenic. No cat is truly hypoallergenic but this breed produces fewer allergens than other felines.
Balinese top the Richter scale of intelligence for long-haired cats. On a 1-10 scale they rate a 9+.
If you get a Balinese you can expect to have it anywhere from eighteen to twenty-one years. Another positive, they seldom scratch, though they will growl and hiss when irritated.
Wondering where their unusual name came from? One of the earlier breeders likened their fluidity of movement to the dancers on the Isle of Bali. Hence their name.
If you are thinking about adding one of these beauties to your family, please consider adoption. Check out petfinder.com and or look for Balinese Rescues. You'll be saving a life.

Charlene's Featured Finds: Author Marsha A. Moore

I have the fortune to meet some wonderful artists in my dealings. There are so many talented authors, painters, musicians, and actors out there that I've decided to shift gears and create Charlene's Featured Finds.  From now on, every 9th and 25th of the month, I'll be presenting someone new here on Night Writers.

Today, I'd like to introduce Author Marsha A. Moore.  I met Marsha several years ago on the online writing community Writing.com.  I had the opportunity to review her work and fell in love with her storytelling voice. 

Marsha is an author of Fantasy Romance and has a way of weaving words into a beautiful scene.  I was thrilled when her first book, Tears on a Tranquil Lake, was published.  It was book one in the Ciel’s Legacy series, and now, she’s on tour celebrating the release of book two, Tortuga Treasure.  

Since I've met Marsha, she's added another series to her line up;  The Enchanted Bookstore series. Legend One, Seeking a Scribe, is coming out this month, too.  You can read an excerpt HERE.  Also to her credits are Le Cirque de Magie, an historical urban fantasy short story you can get free on Amazon, (click HERE for an excerpt), and Sea Glass and Sand Memories, a paranormal short story.  Then there's my personal favorite, Illusions of Intimacy, that is in the works.  She does have an excerpt posted on her site. *wink*  You can find it HERE.

I asked Marsha to share how she came into writing.  So, without further ado, I'll present to you Author Marsha A. Moore.

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I didn’t aim to be a fiction author. My path evolved to this end. While growing up I enjoyed reading, and for that reason I followed an English minor college program, actually just for fun along with a Biology major. Taking lit courses and writing essays for fun--strange, but true! Years later, I worked as a rock music reviewer. During that time, I was inspired by some of those experiences and tinkered with fiction. Initially, I wrote fiction based on the world of rock music. Through a lucky happenstance, a man who worked for a major book publishing house read my first attempts at fiction, posted on a music forum. He repeatedly encouraged me to submit my creative writing. Over time, I came to believe him and did. After that, a new world opened up and it’s been a wonderful time.

My writing style shows my early reading influences—fairytales and classic literature. In college, as an English minor, the years of lit classes instilled a love of older, more formal character voices. I use that style to help me create interesting variety among my own characters.

During the winter of 2008-9, I moved my mother from NW Ohio to Tampa. It didn’t take much to convince me to stay through the winter to help her get settled before I moved my own household the following summer. I enjoy folklore and legend, and sought interesting local tales. I was enthralled with the legends of pirates and mermaids surrounding the annual Tampa Gasparilla Festival, a tribute to the pirate captain Jose Gapar. Pirates, mermaids, and mermen naturally became the characters of my Ciel’s Legacy series.

I spend a lot of time researching and enjoy that part of the writing process. Often local events or places give inspiration and details. Certainly, the Ciel’s Legacy series has a dual setting of my local Tampa coastal area and the region of Tortuga (near Haiti) in the Caribbean. My husband and I have traveled a lot in the Caribbean. One of my favorite local Tampa area beaches—Fort DeSoto—inspired the initial setting for the series. I wrote most of the first book on that beach and still go there often to write through the afternoon.

Some details in the series on topics like pirating, Haitian vodou, and hoodoo magick required research time online and with plenty of reference books.  I now know much more about the parts and workings of pirate ships. There are several types of sailing vessels and an intricate battle scene in Tortuga Treasure: Ciel’s Legacy. Loved that scene!

One of my favorite characters in the series, a vodoun mambo named Teega, influences the use of hoodoo magick in the story. She is a master, helping those she considers friends, but can be extremely dark and vindictive if crossed. Pirates in my story fear no one more than Teega. Some of the merfolk train under her to learn basic hoodoo arts. Forming her dark spells required plenty of research, but that was fun for me to weave into the storyline.

Tears on a Tranquil Lake

Ciel’s Legacy

What a surprise for a young woman, to find herself suddenly transformed into a mermaid.

Ciel’s first thought—track down the merman who changed her and make him reverse his magic. Unable to find him, survival in her new world becomes paramount. She eagerly accepts help from a dashing pirate captain who takes a fancy to her, lavishing her with finery.

When her merman does show up, he competes for her affection. One look into his eyes makes her life more complex—he is her soul mate.

Which man will she choose – pirate captain or merman? Which life—human or mermaid? Caribbean adventures and dangers chase Ciel as she searches for decisions and the key to her happiness.

Warning: This book contains Haitian vodou, sultry wenches, foul-mouthed scalliwag pirates, overindulgence of fine Caribbean rum, and amorous encounters on deserted beaches.

Click Here For Excerpt

Tortuga Treasure

Ciel’s Legacy

When Ciel first looks into Alvaro’s eyes she finds love. Bad timing. In the next instant he’s fatally stabbed in the back by one of his pirate mates. Her girlfriends warn her it will only bring on a heap of trouble to save him. Unable to resist, she gives him the gift of a new life as one of her kind—a merman.

Will their love encourage him to embrace life as a merman? Can love survive if he wishes to return to human form? Either way, her friends speak true. No matter how much mermagic and dark vodou Ciel and her friends cast, blood-thirsty buccaneers chase them across the Caribbean until Alvaro finally decides.

Warning: This book contains a magical cock-a-too, lecherous scurvy pirate dogs, hoodoo healers, the mark of the evil Black Spot, plenty of dark Haitian vodou, and passionate encounters on tropical beaches.

Since Marsha is on tour for the release of Tortuga Treasure, I'm giving you a little taste of it here.  Enjoy!

Tortura Treasure: Ciel’s Legacy

Excerpt

“Ye damned scurvy dog, Alvaro. Give me coins back,” barked a burly seaman, glaring at his mate on the far end of the long pier. His frizzled dark hair flopped as he lunged for and missed the other man, landing closer to us.

My tail fins were splayed out wide over the dock to soak up the warmth of the late afternoon sun. I quickly tucked them closer to my torso, so they wouldn’t be tread upon.

Having a well-muscled physique, Alvaro dodged with ease, his face lit with a wide grin.  Obviously, he enjoyed the game of goading his partner, but seemed uninterested in fighting back. “I don’t have yer purse, ye black scoundrel. That new hand got lost in our cabin an’ likely lifted it.”

“Ye be a liar!” The heavyset man swung wide and hard. “An’ a good one—fooled me. Ye started as a crimp, but thought ye turned into me mate.”

Twisting away from more blows, Alvaro leaped close enough for me to get a better view. His black knee-high boots pounded the creaking wooden frame.

Curious, I remained where I sat near the edge, facing the row of gangplanks. Tall sailing ships stood proud, decorated with their pennants alongside Jolly Rogers. I’d seen enough skirmishes between buccaneers to take them as commonplace in this busy Tortuga port, good entertainment while my two mermaid friends and I chatted.

Dodging another fist, Alvaro jumped.

I leaned into my friend Omarosa. Her long, dark kinky hair away floated in front of my view. I brushed it away. “Quite the showman he is. So quick on his feet.”

“You ain’t lookin’ at his feet though, Ciel.” She giggled and gave my arm a playful slap.

I grinned and nudged her in turn, but kept my gaze fixed on the pirate named Alvaro. Most seamen were rather scraggly, reeking of body odor, missing a digit, limb, or many teeth. The captains and first mates often cleaned up smartly, wearing finery from their worldly travels, but not the crew. This man was neither a dandy nor a grubby hand. He wore well-fitting clothing, a faded black poet’s shirt, clean but frayed on the edges, as were his black trousers. His polished boots showed creases from hard wear. Straight black hair, as long as mine, hung over his broad shoulders to his hips, and swung out as he darted from side-to-side along the pier.

“The Jack o’ Coins just paid me that sum—me only earnings fer port. Hand it here, now,” the portly seaman yelled louder and faster. He backed the other against a stack of hogshead casks. “If’n ye don’t, I’ll be callin’ the buffer to give ye the keelhaul, tyin’ ye to a rope and draggin’ yer bones along the barnacles of the ship. How does that sound, matey?”

“I mean ye no harm, Tom. I don’t want to fight ye. Don’t force me to.” Alvaro paused, and then swung a hard punch into his gut.

Tom winced, bent forward, and clasped his hands to his stomach.

Immediately, Alvaro glanced down at me, intending to bound in my direction. When his dark eyes met mine, his mouth dropped open and he lost his balance, falling toward the edge of the pier.

In the next instant, while his gaze held mine, Tom lodged a dagger deep into Alvaro’s back. I saw shock, fear, and horrible pain in those dark eyes as well as a plea for help…and something else…a promise of friendship. In that moment, I measured the depth of his sincerity and warmth spread over me. The power of my mermagic latched onto the intentions his soul revealed and my body trembled with those vibrations.

He fell into the water, blade still buried in his torso. I jerked to dive after him, but Omarosa and Sesi held my shoulders. “Let me go,” I cried, straining against them.

“I know you want to help, but it doesn’t involve you,” Sesi cried, holding me down with her chunky, green flipper on top of mine.

Squirming against them, I wildly scanned the water. Alvaro didn’t rise to the surface. I couldn’t let him die. What I read in his soul promised so much I longed for. Determination surged adrenaline through my body, and I shoved Omarosa off me. I raised my flipper and dropped Sesi to the other side, all the while keeping sight of the shadowy form under the water.

Omarosa grabbed my wrist. “This is sure trouble you don’t need. Save that one and five others will be after you, and us.”

Alvaro remained below. I tore my arm free and dove in. The water tasted of minerals leaking from his bloody wound. With one forceful stoke of my flipper, I sped downward and located his body drifting motionless among the pier supports. His skin was blue and his open eyes had a distant stare, showing no recognition. Was he still alive? Powered by adrenaline, in seconds I assessed his state. I took hold of his arm to see if he gave a reflexive flinch. Nothing. No pulse throbbed against my fingers. I put my ear to his chest. His heart beat slowly and faintly, while mine thumped hard against my ribs. Contact allowed me to read his soul—dim, but still active.

           Seconds mattered. Pulling him to the surface and letting time pass while his mates decided what medical care to give would make his death certain.  There was only one hope. Could I do it?

Here's where you can get a copy:

Amazon  

Smashwords  

MuseItUp Publishing

You can connect with Marsha around the web.  Here's where:

Website: http://MarshaAMoore.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage

Fantasy Faction staff page: http://fantasy-faction.com/staff-members?uid=38

Goodreads author page http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore

Google + https://plus.google.com/u/0/100564214132835514192/posts

LinkedIn http://www.linkedin.com/pub/marsha-a-moore/2b/8/aa9

I'd like to thank Marsha for being here today and all of you for join us.  

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Until next time, may your dreams be magical.  

      Charlene

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Charlene A. Wilson is an author of paranormal suspenseful tales that take you to other dimensions. She weaves magic, lasting love, and intrigue into multi-layered story lines to immerse you into the lives of her characters.