That’s pretty much a daily occurrence for me. But today’s additions come from attending a very nice author event on Facebook over the weekend.
Shereen Vedam is a lovely person who writes historical stories that have a touch of fantasy in them. Spending an hour or so getting to know her was a fun experience. Much more enjoyable than fighting the crowds on Black Friday and I expect her story will be infinitely more fun as well. Shereen is one of the contributors to this Christmas themed anthology. Check it out here:
During the event, I also met Robyn Neeley who posted an easy and delicious fudge recipe that I can’t wait to try. Decadent chocolate and nuts, you cannot go wrong with that combination. Robyn has a sparkling personality and writes romantic comedies with a hint of magic and has a Christmas themed release:
And last but not least, I got a chance to chat with Zina Abbott who writes historical western romances. Zina was a lot of fun to talk to and in an amazing coincidence, posted a somewhat obscure recipe for a treat that I happen to make every year during the holidays and was in fact, snacking on at the very moment she posted the recipe. How’s that for a great minds thinking alike moment? Gotta love someone who also makes Scotcheroos!
To each of these talented women, I say thank you for your time and it was a pleasure meeting each of you.
I don’t claim to be psychic but I’ve had a flash or two and probably you have, too. Almost everyone I know has a story to tell. For instance, when my husband was a teenager, his mother was up in the attic and he had a vision of her falling down the access ladder. He rushed to the bottom of the ladder and caught her just as she fell. Maybe her guardian angel gave him the push he needed, who knows. He still gets goosebumps thinking about it but he knows that while she got a couple bruises, his mother could have been badly hurt if he hadn’t gotten there just in time.
On the night my grandfather passed away unexpectedly, I was staying at a friend’s house and at the moment of his death, I sat straight up in bed and announced that he had died. The next day I didn’t even remember what happened, but when I got home, my mother confirmed that my grandfather was gone. It was creepy and my friend never invited me over again.
I’d love to hear your story if you have one. Please post yours in the comments section and who knows, it might make its way into a future book. *with your permission of course.
This is one of those books that is not just “written” but instead consists of words painted on paper. I don’t get as much time to read literary fiction as I would like so when a gem like this comes along, I savor it to the fullest.
Libbie’s characters come to life with beauty, realism and flaws. She has a deft hand with descriptive prose that rides the fine edge of just enough purple to create exquisite color.
I’ve now finished the book.
Libbie’s nameless narrator provides a raw but beautiful glimpse into the life of one woman’s need for self-discovery. In trying to reconcile her faith with the realities that she perceives, she begins a journey that will take her in a new direction even when the present demands that she must deal with the past.
Whether your childhood was good, bad or indifferent, you will find some common ground with the narrator. While I am not particularly a fan of first-person narrative, in this book it worked.
This one is staying on my Kindle!
I’m a writer, it is my job to write, right? I’m supposed to be hunched over my keyboard, mug of coffee at hand, tapping away furiously while prose and dialog leap effortlessly from my mind to my fingers to my computer screen. Well, it’s not happening so obviously, I am suffering from the dreaded scourge known as Writer’s Block (you should be hearing the duh duh duhhhhh tones that indicate a villain whenever you read that phrase).
There are several causes for Writer’s Block and I don’t have to look very far to figure out mine. There is a mistake in the plot. Pure and simple. Well, not simple since I now have to go back and unravel the entire thing and fix the mistake before the story can move on. My muse has packed up and gone on vacation taking my characters along for the ride. They refuse to return until I have set their world to rights.
So, it’s time to pour the coffee, roll up my sleeves and sort out the problem.
What? We’re out of coffee?