You have walked into my Diary. Welcome! Hopefully, my musings will touch you. Check out my novel "The One That Got Away" on amazon http://tinyurl.com/ljcj8xh

Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

“Wilde’s Fire”… Krystal’s novel is here!

My friend Krystal Wade’s debut Young Adult novel Wilde’s Fire has finally been released this month! This book is part of an exciting fantasy trilogy. It is my pleasure to host a little taste. Krystal has been blog hopping about her book and herself, and even about the main character, Kate. But what about Kate’s hunky love interest ? Who is that guy? Krystal is right here to tell us a little about him.

 

Who is Arland Maher?

Gosh, if I tell you, he might not belong to me anymore. Ha! He doesn’t really belong to me anyway, does he?

When you first begin reading Wilde’s Fire, you might believe Arland is just a figment of Kate’s imagination. Almost every night she dreams of him, spending time in his arms, loving him, but every night he’s murdered in horrible, gruesome ways when those dreams turn to nightmares.

But little does Kate know she’s following a path that leads right to him, and their futures are more intertwined than she can ever imagine.

Arland is a man defined by duty, a warrior in the war against Darkness, a Leader to his dwindling people, yet his sole purpose in life is to protect a woman he’s never met.

A woman he’s forbidden to love, even though his status as her protector means he’ll be incapable of not loving her.

And when the pair do meet? Well, you’ll have to read the book to see what happens, but my guess is there’s a little fire.

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with:

#TeaserTrain : Teaser from “Wyndano’s Cloak” by A.R. Silverberry

       

I am delighted to be hosting A.R. Silverberry on my blog for #TeaserTrain. His novel “Wyndano’s Cloak” is the sort of enchanting fantasy story I loved to read as a preteen. It is recommended for young readers ages 10 and up. I have purchased this book and am looking forward to sharing it with my kids. It is the kind of story that is just as much fun for me to read as it is for my children to listen to. Please enjoy this excerpt and consider sharing this adventure with your young readers.

Alert, Jen backed away from the tree and studied it at a crouch. The air was still. The grass motionless. But the leaves stirred and fluttered. Words floated down. At first they were indistinct, as if someone called through a distant snowstorm. One word emerged clearly, and an icy finger traced down her spine.

She heard her name.

She backed away until she squatted on some rocks that extended into the pool. Every muscle—sun-hammered and wind-hardened like metal in a forge—was poised to spring. Phrases whispered down. The only sense she could make was that something was coming. Something dangerous.

She thought of her family. Fear tightened around her heart. She was a hair’s-breadth away from running to them. Her feet stayed rooted to the spot. Maybe she’d hear more.

A small splash made her look at the pond. Two more followed, as if someone had thrown pebbles. Nothing had fallen into the water. But ripples spread out and ran into each other. More splashes erupted like tiny volcanoes, until the whole pool was agitated with colliding rings. A circle of calm emerged below Jen’s feet, pushing the waves back. Pale and ghostly, a face rose from the muddy bottom of the pool until it floated just below the surface. Little hills and valleys lined the features of an old woman, as if olives lay under the skin.

“Medlara.” Jen spoke under her breath, unwilling to believe her friend could hear her.

Medlara smiled, but her expression hardened. Words whispered from the pool. Jen leaned forward, straining to hear. She got little more than fragments, as if a storyteller jumbled the pieces of a tale. One phrase repeated, like a riddle. “If you meet . . . a harp, you must . . . If the worst happens, seek the answers—”

Jen dropped to her knees, hoping to catch more. Medlara’s hands appeared just below her chin. She clasped them, and lifted her eyes as if she were imploring Jen. She mouthed two words. They might have been, “Forgive me.”

Streaks of blue snaked and flowered in the water, as if someone had dropped in dye. Tendrils of mist rose from the surface and licked the ring of rocks. Soon the whole pool was covered. Spilling over the edge, the cloudy vapor surrounded Jen. She backed onto the shore, but the stuff sprouted up on all sides, walling her in, and formed a ceiling above. It crept along the ground until it met her feet. There it paused like an undulating sea.

Jen studied the mist. “She’s trying to show me something. But what?”

There was no time to wonder. Fog rose before her like a giant shadow. Black. Forbidding . . .

She stepped back. Looked behind for an escape route. The fog surged forward and pulled her into the inky darkness. She could no longer feel the ground, as if everything solid and beautiful that she cared about was being ripped away. She tried to scream but terror rose from the pit of her stomach and froze in her throat.

The rest was a dizzy kaleidoscope of tilting and falling, of wandering lost, with no way out, no way home, no way back to a world of light and love, until the mist melted away and she collapsed, shaking in a pool of sweat.

Purchase this novel here: http://www.amazon.com/Wyndanos-Cloak-ebook/dp/B005CYYI6G/ref%3dtmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with:

Stark and Staring

It slices unexpectedly through a mundane task.

Or a moment in the space between movements.

Or a quiet place of reflective thought.

Or by an occurrence of sudden similarity.

A Disturbing Memory

Stark and naked

Standing there, staring at you.

It is normally latched away

In a safe, dark box

In a corner of the mind used for such things.

It is better left there,

Than to wreak fussy havoc upon the present.

After the initial shock of its’ undesired appearance,

You eye it suspiciously

And fight against the familiar twist of pain it exerts

Out of place and time.

You sigh inwardly before beginning the struggle of wrestling it back into its’ box

In the dark corner

To be awakened occasionally by dreams

But

Has no business being here now.

It does not go away willingly.

It  flirts with the edges of your activities

Lingering,

Like a child that has been sent back to bed too many times.

Eventually, it will go back to sleep

With the others.

And you will continue to continue.

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with:

Pioneer Teaser from my novel on #TeaserTrain

My novel “The One That Got Away” is being featured on #TeaserTrain again this week. You may know that in a nutshell, my novel is a reincarnation story. It does, however, have a few more twists thrown in that make the reader realize that reincarnation is only a part of the painting on a much larger canvas. The teaser that is showcased this week is from what I refer to as the Pioneer lifetime and can be found on A.R. Silverberry’s blog: http://www.arsilverberry.com/the-one-that-got-away-teaser-train-excerpt .

The modern day narrator of the story is a cynical, single mother named Wendy who doesn’t have the time or interest to be concerned with something as ridiculous as reincarnation. She is forced to. She becomes exposed to three previous lifetimes and some other odd occurrences that cause her to question the very structure of life and it’s purpose. The following are the  excerpts that give you a taste of each of Wendy’s previous lives. It will make you wonder how they could possibly be connected. Of course, I would highly recommend that you read my novel to see if you can put the pieces together before she does. 🙂

Roese http://sharonbuchbinder.com/blog/2011/12/28/kellianne-sweeney-author-of-the-one-that-got-away/

Alice http://www.arsilverberry.com/the-one-that-got-away-teaser-train-excerpt

Meg http://www.carriegreenbooks.com/1/post/2011/11/a-titanic-teaser-by-kellianne-sweeney.html

Amazon Link for “The One That Got Away”  http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_17?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=kellianne+sweeney&sprefix=kellianne+sweeney

 

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with:

The Teenage Minefield

I love my daughter. I am proud of the woman that she is growing into. She is sixteen and we are not out of the woods yet, but then again, even as adults we still can spend quite a bit of time in the woods as well. The clearings in the woods that contain the proverbial wildflowers, butterflies and seeping sunshine are what we strive for in our lives. The more time spent in the clearings, the better. However, we must expect that we will still spend some time back in the woods through poor choices of our own or circumstances beyond our control. But, if we find ourselves in the woods again, the goal is to fight our way out, not just give in to being lost there. Such is one of many lessons that we attempt to impart to our children.

As we all know, being a teenager is a hazardous road fraught with many potholes. It was this way when we were teenagers and it is still that way today. One of the hardest ideas to sell to a teenager is that we as adults were once teenagers also. They somehow believe that we just skipped that whole phase so that we could not possibly understand the tiniest bit of what their misunderstood and angst ridden existence is like. And we would never be able to understand that they just want to have fun either. Of course not. Fun is a foreign concept to adults, right? It’s all about stupid rules, right?  Well, the mysterious reality is that we actually do understand all of this because we were there too. And we didn’t think our parents knew anything either. The result is that we have many valuable lessons that we learned from our walk in those woods to share with our kids so that we might be able to prevent them the pain of struggling with the same demons. In most cases our insight offerings fall on deaf ears because other tightly held teenage beliefs are that they know it all and are immortal and immune to danger. The reality is that adults are still actually kids on the inside that have been seasoned with life experiences. Therein lies our tales of caution to our teenagers.

My teenage daughter is not technically my daughter. She is my daughter by choice. I met her when she was three. Her dad and I married a few years later. I have always treated her as my own, and she would tell you this herself. As we have entered her teenage years she has certainly been annoyed at me many times but she has never actually played the “You are not really my mother so I don’t have to listen to you” card. I am sure this has gone through her mind before but she has shown me enough respect not to voice it. We have had many rocky moments and many loving moments. Raising a teenager contains many minefields for both the parent and the teenager. There will be many explosions, and careful stepping, but the joy of clearing a minefield is wonderful. I would like to share a minefield victory with you.

She told me the other day that one of her friends said that it was impressive how confident she was in her beliefs. She then proceeded to tell me that  I have taught her about being bold to do what is right. She ended by saying that when she is acting in such a way she feels  she is addressing the situation as I would. I was floored and touched. She is not usually one to share these types of thoughts. And let me tell you about her being bold in the face of wrong: I am proud to say that she stepped in the middle of a bullying incident. At lunch one day a girl was pummeling another girl over a shirt. My daughter grabbed the aggressor’s arm and demanded that she stop while the other students just watched.

I am so very thankful that some seeds that are faithfully planted and watered do eventually bear fruit. Results may not be immediate and may seem hidden at times but rest assured that your diligence does pay off and when it does, the results are heartwarming and priceless. It is all of our destinies to continue to have periods where our trail is engulfed by the woods, but learning to have a determined attitude in the face of challenges and injustices and teaching our children to do the same will help us to enter the clearings much more readily.

I completely expect my daughter to grow into a strong and lovely woman. She will certainly have her share of scars from being snared in the woods, but I don’t believe she will accept being lost in there. I am sure we will not always agree on her future life choices, but that is okay. When she is an adult, she will be the only one that has to get up every day and walk in her own shoes. I just want to have been able to give her tools to strengthen her character to use on her own personal journey. I wish this for all of my children.

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with:

Just Waiting On A Friend

Dear Diary,

The water was calm and the sky was cloudy, but the temperature was not cold. The air was a cool humid and I could taste it. I rested my elbows on the rough splinter laden railing and looked over the bay. I hadn’t noticed that there had been fog earlier, but if I strained my eyes I thought I could catch a glimpse of the final wisps rolling out to find the sea. My nose felt cold but the rest of me was comfortable in my gray, bulky sweater and worn blue jeans. My hair was down and stringy from the droplets of invisible moisture that hung in the air. The dampness clung stubbornly to me and to other surfaces within its’ reach.  There was no breeze and the serene bay insisted that my spirit be calm. It beckoned to my mind to be still. I opened myself and accepted the tranquility. And I waited. Time stretched before me as well as behind me. I paused in the moment. The sun half heartedly tried to push its’ way through the mass of unyielding clouds, but soon tiredly abandoned the attempt. A lone gull screeched with purpose and my eyes unconsciously searched for the source without really seeing. I listened absently to the content whirr of a slowly progressing boat mingling with the quiet laughter and subdued voices of the passengers.  And I waited. There was not boredom, only being. This stillness would be a memory soon piled under ever pressing everyday routines and other more dramatic life events that would require my attention. Or perhaps this moment would be lost and forgotten as though it had never existed at all.

A raindrop spattered upon my hand and I stared as it leisurely slid between my fingers and out of sight. I looked up and watched increasingly more intricate ripple patterns begin to form upon the bay.

I will continue my wait for you in the café. If I go now, I will not become too wet. I will enter into the enveloping aromas of coffee bean and sweet thick vanilla and content my being with a comforting cup of coffee and await your warm conversation.

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with:

Eyebrow Wars

Dear Diary,

I have unwanted guests in my eyebrows. No, I am not referring to bugs in case that’s what you were thinking. I am talking about a couple of dazzlingly silver highlights nestled amongst the brunette residents. Gray hairs sprouting in my eyebrows!

I have become accustomed to dealing with gray hairs on my head because I have been genetically endowed with an early graying gene. I discovered my first gray head hairs when I was at the tender age of twenty four. I took action with that dilemma by first highlighting my hair and then eventually moving on to full color. I vividly remember the day that I decided to go to full color. I was working out at the gym and a muscle-guy that I would occasionally chat with asked me if the white in my hair was there on purpose. This, of course, is up there with a guy asking a heavyset woman if she is pregnant. Ok. Time to step into full color.

But stray white eyebrow hairs…what does one do to stanch this flow?

I have never been much of an eyebrow plucker. I have always been partial to the Brooke Shields eyebrow look myself. I’m not saying it works for everyone, but I have embraced this style as my own.

I have never even touched an eyebrow pencil. I used to wonder why some women preferred to pluck all of their eyebrows out and then use a pencil to draw them back in. It could be just a style preference, but could multiplying white eyebrow hairs also be a reason?

The first weapon in this war is a pair of tweezers. How hard could that be? Pluck, pluck, done. Right? I don’t know if you have had this experience, but I think those white suckers try to hide and cling to the unsuspecting brown ones. I yanked out way too many of the innocent rightfully colored hairs in my ferocious attempt to rid myself of the white intruders.  I even resorted to trying to trim them away with cuticle scissors. One of my eyebrows looks a little scant, (Please see illustration below) but it could be worse. I will have to approach this a bit more calmly next time. Because, there will be a next time, as you know.

What do you do when the evil white hairs start bringing their friends to invade your eyebrows? Do you use box hair color to cover them up? Or  pluck them until there is nothing left? Or wear long bangs for the rest of your days? Or just accept your lot in life and let them take over as they will? Such is the battle I shall be facing in my future. If you ever see me with painted on eyebrows you will know that I have lost the war.

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with:

The Flip Side

Dear Diary,

Everyone has bad days. Sometimes, several in a row. There is no such thing as Happily Ever After. Everyone has a Once Upon A Time that just continues on and on until the abrupt ending. The story unfolds with climaxes, resolutions, new chapters, plot twists, subplots, genre switches, and a constantly shifting array of characters.

I, personally, have had a wacky week. I have had some super great things happen and some trials that have sent me in a tailspin. I have found myself gasping for air from the rollercoaster ride that is my life.  There are thrills and scares and the uneventful parts where you ride slowly up a hill not knowing what’s coming on the other side. Bad stuff will happen, but on the flipside, good stuff will happen too. Sometimes I think we expect that if we take certain steps and do everything a certain way that we will be immune to bad happenings. There are many things we can do to make our story mostly a good one, but there will always be circumstances and the actions of others that are beyond our control. I think the most important controllable factor is our own attitude. When we wake up each morning we should be ready to embrace the good stuff heartily and be prepared to tackle the bad stuff that jumps out at us. I also firmly believe that every cloud does have a silver lining but sometimes you have to look real hard for it, or even create your own.

So, if you are having a day like mine, which started off with a rousing argument with my husband, followed by my son turning up with pink eye on my first day of a new job, no available babysitter for said child with pink eye, not having the new medical insurance coverage to address the pink eye kick in until March 1st, realizing suddenly that I didn’t have the correct shoes for my new job, my husband threatening to give my dogs away (different argument), and then, to top it all off, I  burned my grilled cheese sandwich as I was writing this post. Yes, there is a silver lining here somewhere, and I will find it. Sometimes it is as simple as gaining the knowledge that you will not allow yourself to wander into a similar situation again. Or, maybe you, my dear reader, are benefitting somehow from my reflection of the aggravating beginning of my day.

My day is not over yet and I am determined to flip it around. And if for some reason I am not able to salvage this day, tomorrow is in fact another day to start fresh. I will leave you with some encouraging words from Howard Jones singing “The New Song”(I love me some Howie):

“This is a song to all of my friends.

They take the challenge to their hearts.

Challenging preconceived ideas,

Saying goodbye to long standing fears.

Don’t crack up.

Bend your brain.

See both sides.

Throw off your mental chains.

Woo Hoo Hoo!”

 

P.S. Update on my day:

*My husband and I talked it out and have a better understanding.

*A babysitter was found!

*I didn’t need to take my son to the doctor because I found some left over eye medicine.

*My husband ran out and bought me the appropriate shoes.

*I think my husband has changed his mind about the dogs. (My kids backed me up fully on this one. Could you stand up to that kind of pressure?)

*A new grilled cheese was made and eaten.

*Excedrin did wonders on my resulting headache.

 

Category:

Uncategorized

#TeaserTrain: Ashes to Ashes by Howard Hopkins

       

 

I am pleased to be hosting a teaser from Howard Hopkins for #TeaserTrain. All of our #TeaserTrain members will be hosting Howard today as a tribute to this late, great author. This teaser is from the Chloe Everson series, fondly touted as burlesque meets the X-Files. Please enjoy:

 

My name is Chloe Everson. I’m blonde, 5’6” and, um, thirty-something. Oh, and please don’t judge me, but I’m also a stripper at the Red Lagoon, at least I was until a few weeks ago before…well, that’s a story I can get into later. Most of the other girls call them­selves exotic dancers, like it makes taking off your clothes in front of a bunch of drunken idiots classier somehow. But I am a stripper. There’s an art to it, like those burlesque girls in the old days.

I never had a lot of control over what happened in my life. In fact, most of the time I just felt like everything was sweeping me along in a rush of black water. But stripping gives me some sense of control. I know exactly what I am doing and what I can make my audience do. Anyone who gets out of line, well, Arly takes care of them.

And I know what you’re thinking: I’m one of “those” girls. Well, I’m not. It goes no farther than the dancing and never has. I have never crossed that line and I wouldn’t. I just spend a lot of time naked and I don’t mind that. Guys don’t seem to mind, either, but it’s strictly look, don’t touch.

I hope what I’ve told you won’t make you think less of me. I ended up on my own early, and had to survive somehow. I had no real skills other than dancing and I made enough money to give me some sense of power over the things in my life I might not have had otherwise.

I’ve been through a lot over the past few months, especially back around Christmas when that whole Sisters of the Snake thing was go­ing on. You can read about that in GRIMM. It’s now a matter of re­cord since Arly decided to hire that author to report the things we’ve seen and experienced. I mean, who would believe it if we didn’t make sure the public was able to read about it? Arly didn’t even believe in the supernatural before Angelique Ficatier and her witches came into our lives.

Me, I just write things down in my journal. I’m doing that now, sit­ting here in my condo, with the boxes I’ve packed piled all around me (I had plans, you know, ones that now…) I was hoping maybe someday I would be able to show it to my children, let them see what a fire­cracker their mother was in her day. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? Like one of those old movies I like to watch. The kind where the heroes always win and the guy gets the girl and everything turns out happily ever af­ter.

But life is not always like that and I’m afraid maybe this time I’ve lost again, lost someone who means more to me than anything in the world. I’ve lost a lot in my life. My parents were killed when I was seven and I was sent to various foster homes. My sister…I lost her, too. I haven’t been able to find her since the day I saw a couple drive off with her and leave me behind. Arly was helping me look for her, but I already tried everything I could think of. Still, I cling to a little hope that someday…

Well, anyway, I guess that’s enough about me for now, because what’s more important is that I am worried. Sorry, no, I’m not just worried. I’m scared out of my wits. Because after what happened with the Sisters of the Snake I know there are things in this world that crawl out of the darkness and into our lives. Terrible things. Inhuman things. And I’m afraid something like that has happened again. To Arly.

He disappeared about a week ago. I’ve been looking everywhere, trying everything I could think of. But I’m not the detective. Arly is. He’s the one who knows how to find people. I talked to his friend, Detective Sturdevant, about it and he’s helping but hasn’t come up with any leads yet. I can tell he’s worried too, because before Angelique Ficatier he didn’t believe in any of that ghost and demon stuff, either. I think he does now, but he’s afraid to admit it. I can’t say I blame him.

Oh, dammit, it’s starting to rain. I can see the water streaking down the slider doors that lead to the patio. I hate rain. It just makes every­thing more depressing right now. Makes me more afraid and more lonely and I feel like I’m just going to come apart if I don’t do some­thing, find some clue to what happened to him.

Even though it’s raining I am thinking of driving over to Arly’s cottage to look around. I’ve been there already a few times and found nothing, but just being in his house makes me feel a little bit closer to him, so maybe I’ll try again.

What else can I do?

Book link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004WLCRYK

Additional Books from Howard: http://www.amazon.com/Howard-Hopkins/e/B002BM64IW/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

 

 

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with:

Howard Hopkins Shines On

Dear Diary,

This post is a tribute to the late author Howard Hopkins. Howard was a highly active member of our author community. Not only was he an extremely prolific author, but his sense of humor and willingness to assist other authors made him a shining star indeed. I had the pleasure of working with him on my #TeaserTrain promotional project. Tomorrow all of the #TeaserTrain participants will be hosting a teaser from one of Howard’s books. Please help him continue to shine on by purchasing one of his enchanting stories.

Below is a beautiful post written by one of our #TeaserTrain participants Beth Elisa Harris. We will miss his presence.

 

Howard Hopkins – In Memoriam

 

Can we pause for a moment from our hectic, over-booked, fatigued, maxed-out, lives and remember what is really important?

 

We lost one of our own this month – an author of many books, our friend Howard. I didn’t know him outside our literary circle. Aside from social media and mutual support, Howard was one of many online writer pals who exemplified why we all gather here – community.

 

Death is hardest on those who are left behind. We take comfort in the legacy left behind, the memories we share, the essence of the energy that continues to surround us despite absence of physical body.

 

When someone passes without warning, without pre-illness, it’s that much tougher. We can grieve illness when someone is still living, and while we mourn the loss we had time to prepare. There is time to process, to tie up loose ends, and to say farewell. Sudden passing is without warning. It doesn’t come with a set of instructions. It’s inconceivable that someone would be there one minute, and simply not the next.

 

It is because of the finite life line we all share, the No Guarantee brand on every life that does not promise you a single breath past tomorrow, or the next hour, or the next minute, or second – that every breath must be a cause for celebration. What are you doing right now to celebrate that breath you just took?

 

Because we continue to have the privilege of breathing, let us honor Howard’s LIFE by honoring his work. This year, let’s each commit to read something Howard wrote (if you haven’t already) and post a review. And please help RT the Thursday Teaser Train tweets Feb. 9, dedicated exclusively to our talented friend.

 

We are all extremely busy and that will not change. But let’s keep Howard in our thoughts this year, and not allow life to get in the way of remembering our ultimate purpose: To revere each second ticking by as a gift not to be squandered.

 

Howard, you will be missed.

 

Visit Howard’s author page on Amazon to read more and view his works.

http://www.amazon.com/Howard-Hopkins/e/B002BM64IW/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

 

Category:

Uncategorized

Tagged with: