Tuesday, November 12, 2013

I have a new blog



My blog has officially moved.  Please visit:

Randomness



I have been writing my a** off.  No clue where this inspiration is coming but I’m not complaining.  Maybe it has something to do with my health now that I’m feeling better.  Before my surgery, I didn’t realize just how awful I was actually feeling now that I’m doing so much now.  Things like exercising, reading, attending writerly things, etc.  However, it is true that the more you write, the more inspired you are, which makes you write more.  

I also woke up this morning to realize how truly behind I am with real life things like housework (the carpet has a carpet of cat hair on it), etc. Plus I remembered that biometric screenings are at work today and I never looked up my appointment time, so it could be this morning which means I couldn’t eat or drink anything just in case.  

Biometric screenings are blood pressure, bloodwork, weight, etc. that we have to take every year for our health insurance.  They are not mandatory but your health insurance will increase if they are not taken, so by my standards they are mandatory.  Plus I like to see my progress each year.  I’m hoping my fat percentage has decreased.  Last year I was something equivalent to a can of Spam. This year I’m at least hoping for lean bacon.  Or maybe turkey bacon, but I haven’t been working out that religiously.  We’ll see…

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Local author day at Liverpool library


I had a great day at Local Author Day at the Liverpool Library in Liverpool, NY.  Thank you to everyone who came out.  My readers rock!  It was an afternoon of talking writing, books, and meeting some wonderful readers and fellow authors. 

Oh, and the gang decided to help me while I was packing up to go to the signing.  Here's Blaze and Pan deciding which boxes would be best to transport my books.

And below is Pan totally exhausted after helping me pack.  Oh, the life...

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Booksigning today



I’ll be signing copies of all my releases, including my newest, Shadow’s Promise today from 1:30 to 3:30 at the Liverpool Public Library, Tulip St, Liverpool, NY. 

Here’s the link to the details.  http://www.lpl.org/

There will be lots of amazing authors here.  Hope to see you there!

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Shadow's Promise - Excerpt



“You are Ganeagaono now.” He stepped toward her, his tone commanding.  “We are your people.”
            “Dillan will come for me.”  She knew she was lying to herself.  Dillan would not come.  Her only hope was to escape.  And she would, just as soon as she could.
            “Hear my words, Jessie McCrea,” Shadow spoke as if he were lecturing a child.  “You are Ganeagaono now.  If anyone came for you, we would not let you go.  We would do everything in our power to keep you here.  Adoption is a sacred bond.  It must not be broken.”
            She wanted to gouge his eyes out, but she was too exhausted and in too much pain to argue.  Why couldn’t she be home, home in her goose down bed in the loft?
            But home seemed so far away.  How far, she had no idea.
            Shadow took a sleeping mat from the shelf and spread it beside the fire pit.  He motioned to his bed.  “It is late, Jessie McCrea.  Tomorrow Willow will teach you her medicine.  You sleep now.”
            The thought of lying in Shadow’s bed made her flush.  She had slept there before—naked, in fact—but she could not sleep there again.  Not willingly.
            Shadow’s frown told her she had offended him.  One thing she had learned tonight was that these people were easily offended.  Even something as meaningless as refusing a helping of food was considered an insult.
            “There is no elsewhere.”  He draped a tattered blanket over his sleeping mat. “My bed is yours.”
            “Then I will sleep on the floor.”
            A slow, provocative grin grew across his face.  “As you wish, but I am a blanket thief.  I hope you will not be cold.”

Monday, November 4, 2013

New year, new planner

 I bought a new planner for 2014.  Below is my old planner for 2013.  It's sturdy and rugged and small enough that I can throw it in my purse if needed.  Plus it's hardcover.





This is the new planner for 2014.  

I’m pretty hard on planners, as they travel with me every day 365 days of the year.  I’m not sure if this new soft cover planner will hold up.  I bought it online and I guess I assumed it would be hard cover like the one I had.  That’s the trouble with purchasing in a hurry, I guess. And you know what they say when you assume...

Nevertheless, I like the design.  The elephants are cute and fun, and I like the space given for writing appointments and to do lists (see photo below).  Plus I can start using it now if I want, as it began in July 2013.   

Now to find time transpose everything from the old into the new…

Do you use a planner?  What are your requirements for keeping organized?


Saturday, November 2, 2013

Blackbird excerpt



“How is it that you speak English?” she asked.
      He said something in his own language.  She could not understand it, but his tone was unmistakably sarcastic. 
      She pressed anyway.  “My Oneida students can speak English, but they speak it rather choppy.  Yours is quite fluent.”
      When he did not answer, she changed the subject. “Can we stop and rest for a bit?”
      “No.”
      “Why?”
      “Because I said so.”
      “Do you always order people around?”
      “Yes.”
      Suddenly angered, Katherine
g to the peaceful songs of the forest birds.  She had begun to think the Indian really had gone on without her when she saw him come back.  His glare was set in annoyance, and she wondered if he was angry enough to beat her.
      Before he had time to make up his mind, she stood, valise in hand.  “Well, I feel quite rested now.”  She walked calmly past him, refusing to meet his black glare.  “Let’s be off.”
      “We will set camp here,” he announced.  “Gather wood and make a fire.”
      Katherine dropped her valise.  Never in her life had anyone ordered her to make a fire or to do any task for that matter.  She had made plenty of fires, and she was not afraid of hard work.  She was the one who had always tended the fireplace when Mama was alive.  But she had never encountered anyone so cold and demanding.
      Except when Joshua had said he did not love her.
      Defiantly, Katherine folded her arms over her chest.  “I will not.”
      The Indian charged her so fast Katherine thought he would strike her.  His glare was cold and hateful.  His nose was hawk like, and his eyes were as black as the fast approaching night.  She stepped back.
      “You will build a fire or you will sleep cold.  Your choice.  I am tired of you.”
      “Tired of me?”  She’d had enough.  She was tired, filthy, and hungry.  She was not going to take anymore from this vile excuse for a human being.  “Let me tell you who’s tired of whom.  I have been trying to be civil to you since I met you.  I am exhausted from trying to keep up with you.  I have to carry this heavy bag over rocks and trees and brush.  You won’t slow down, and you won’t lift a finger to help me.  You haven’t treated me with an ounce of respect since I met you, and you’re tired of me!  Let me tell you something, Mr.--”
      Katherine stopped.  It suddenly dawned on her that she did not even know his name.  “What do you call yourself, anyway?”
      “Adahya.”
      “Excuse me?”
      The Indian stepped back.  “My name is Adahya.”
      “What kind of name is that?”
      “It is an Algonquin name.  My mother was Algonquin, but she was adopted by the Ganeagaono.  I am of the Turtle Clan.”
      Katherine was silent for a moment.  “Adahya,” she repeated, rolling the strange sound over her tongue.  “What does it mean?”
      Lives in the woods.”
      “What kind of name is that?”
      He turned his back to her and muttered something she could not understand.
      “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend you.  I just don’t understand why your mother--Do you live in the woods?”
      He flashed a look of annoyance.  Leaning his musket against a tree, he removed a quilled possible bag from his shoulder.  He sat down and rummaged through it as if she were not even there.
      Night closed in rapidly on the forest.  The sounds of birds and small animals suddenly seemed very loud.  Katherine had never spent a night without shelter, and the thought of doing so now with this man and a complete stranger suddenly unnerved her.
      They had walked all day, but he had not attacked her--yet.  He probably hated her and certainly would have brought harm to her already if that had been his intention.
      Somewhat relieved, she thought of building a fire after all and began gathering firewood.  She scurried over fallen logs, picking up small twigs and branches.  She kept him in her sight at all times.  He was eating some jerky which he had taken from his bag.  Katherine’s stomach growled.  She had not eaten since morning.  Did he intend to feed her?  Maybe he was waiting for her to ask. That was something she most certainly would not do.
      A bundle of wood in her arms, she dropped them beside the Indian and began arranging them in a small bundle:  leaves first, some dry moss, and small twigs last.
      He was watching with unusual interest.  Was it approval in his eyes?  A hint of a grin crossed her face.  She motioned to his satchel.  “Do you have flint in there?”
      Wordlessly, he withdrew the flint from his bag.  He watched her as she struck the flint and the tinder began to smolder.  She decided that she did not care if he was listening to her or not and began talking just to offset the silence of the approaching dusk.  “My name is Katherine St. James.  I don’t expect you to care, but I am telling you anyway because it is the proper thing to do.  My mother, God rest her soul, raised me to be better than that.”
      The tinder spark danced with the dried moss, and Katherine blew air to feed the flame.  “There.  That’s better.”
      “What does it mean?”
      He was staring intently at her work on the fire.  “Pardon?”
      “Your name.”
      Katherine shrugged.
      “It must mean something.”  He was looking at her now.
      “It’s just a name.”  She pondered what he had said.  “I suppose my mother just liked the way it sounded.”
      He grunted.
      “What is that supposed to mean?”
      He looked at her as if he expected horns to sprout from her forehead.  “White eyes make no sense.  You cannot have a name and have it not mean something.  You can like the sound of a bird in the forest or a river flowing, but you would not name someone after the sound.  You’re name must mean something.”
      “Well if my name means something, I have no idea what it is.”
      “As I said, you make no sense.”