Low Residency Experience: Writing to the Finish

Check it out and discuss.

If you’re local, join me for a quick writing session designed to get the inspiration flowing! Writing must be a daily practice, even if it’s only for a few minutes. The goal of these short sessions are to show that  pages can be written in minutes. We’re going to put an end to the “I don’t have time to write” excuses. See you there!

A Book Signing, Farm Market, Wine-Tasting Weekend.

Thank you!

This weekend, we decided to jump right in with both boots on to a challenging uphill stretch known as the Buck Hollow Trail in Shenandoah National Park. Six miles and change round trip.

What goes up...

The Buck Hollow side is a quick ascent of 400 feet in elevation. “Quick,” of course, is a relative term. How about…very quickly you must ascend 400 feet in elevation? That’s more like it.

Must come down...

The downhill stretch through Buck Ridge was a rapid descent, accompanied by a lovely stream, I think a tributary of the Hazel River, and occasional waterfalls.

One of the  wonderful things about Virginia is the plethora of trails and parks, including a large stretch the Appalachian Trail.

Next month, a few days on the Blue Ridge Parkway…

Check out The Irish Story’s article written by Patricia Byrne on the 1913 Achill Land Agitation and the role of Agnes MacDonnell.

(side note: I spent a summer studying Archaeology in Achill so I’m always fascinated with a bit of Achill history)

ParaYourNormal Blog Interview

Reviews of Once A Goddess…

Once A Goddess reviews on…

Amazon.com. …
“Unique, fascinating and magical story that kept me turning the pages…”

Historical Novel Review 
…”It is an emotionally provocative and compelling story…”

History and Women 
…”Unrequited love, passionate liaisons, lies and deception, treachery and betrayal line this novels pages…”

Unusual Historicals

Hazel the Witch
…”The story itself follows the myth of Túatha dé Danann, but the author managed to turn it into a captivating, strong, and powerful story…”

Curse of the Bibliophile
…”Once A Goddess was a profoundly magical story…”

Simplistik Halloz Books
…”I’m looking forward to the rest of the series when the time comes…”

Canterbury Books, UK

Please contact me if you’d like a review copy of Once A Goddess. I’d be glad to send a paperback or email an e-book.

Reblogged from Rant, with occasional music:

In my previous post, I talked about how musicians and writers have combined music and writing. There’s another element to this and that’s video. With the advent of new technology, an exciting new development is the merging of – not only words and music – but also imagery. I mentioned in the previous post about authors putting together soundtracks for their novels.

Read more… 240 more words

Check out Derek Flynn's blog, particularly his post on merging music, writing, and film. Then listen to his piece, Sleepwalking.

Once A Goddess reviews on…

Amazon.com. …
“Unique, fascinating and magical story that kept me turning the pages…”

Historical Novel Review 
…”It is an emotionally provocative and compelling story…”

History and Women 
…”Unrequited love, passionate liaisons, lies and deception, treachery and betrayal line this novels pages…”

Unusual Historicals

Hazel the Witch
…”The story itself follows the myth of Túatha dé Danann, but the author managed to turn it into a captivating, strong, and powerful story…”

Curse of the Bibliophile
…”Once A Goddess was a profoundly magical story…”

Simplistik Halloz Books
…”I’m looking forward to the rest of the series when the time comes…”

Canterbury Books, UK

Please contact me if you’d like a review copy of Once A Goddess. I’d be glad to send a paperback or email an e-book.

Here’s a little summary of Vision, along with excerpts from the novel:

The “Vision” trilogy  spans centuries, a Scottish tragedy beginning in 1731 where two lovers, Sarah and Jonathan are brutally murdered by a rival clan leader. Sarah had predicted her death and wrote down her vision in a letter to her descendant, Layla Stone who will be born in 1994. But that isn’t all she predicts.

Layla begins an exciting study program in Cambridge and meets Stuart, who seems to have of his own.  Layla finds herself caught up in the mystery of her psychic ancestor, Sarah, and discovers her own inherited gifts of Vision.

PROLOGUE

Colonsay, Scotland

July 1731

Sarah and Jonathan MacPhie collapse on the goose down mattress, a wedding gift from Jonathan’s father seven years ago. Sweat beads gather on her upper lip as she traces random patterns on Jonathan’s chest, her mouth smiling, her eyes full of woe.

She lay tucked in his arm, not shifting her head to meet his dark eyes, but she knows they are closed.

She knows this is their last night together on earth. Jonathan does not know this as he laid peacefully stroking Sarah’s long amber curls, smiling over his good fortune. Her thoughts are blocked.

When Jonathan surrenders to deep slumber, she softly slides out of bed, slipping a gown over her moist body. Sitting at the small table in the kitchen, the vision channels through a letter, her last words left for anyone to read. She walks over by the fireplace where her mother’s marble urn sat in the corner – its contents emptied earlier that day.

Carefully rolling up the letter and tying the circumference with string, she slips it inside the empty urn. Outside by the peach tree she buries the urn with the letter in a shallow hole, knowing it will be found in time and read by the intended recipient. This vision is the clearest of all.

In the distance the men gather to plan her death.

Further away a woman wails with grief.

There is nothing to do but wait.

TEN

excerpt

We return to the coffee house, not exactly private but empty for the moment. Words like ‘clairvoyant’ and ‘psychic’ hover in the air. I detest the limited vernacular available to explain myself – it sounds fake and ostentatious. Stuart just smiles, as if expecting the confession. This all knowing, all seeing trait of his is slightly annoying. Sienna, on the other hand, won’t stay low key enough for my comfort. “This is by far the coolest thing ever!” A light bulb flickers in her eyes. “Oh! The day we met, you said, ‘who’s Stuart’ just after I thought about him. You heard me.

“What about me?” He teases.

Sienna doesn’t miss a beat. “I was thinking how you would drool over Layla, and right when I did, she said, ‘who’s Stuart?’ I freaked and she pretended like she didn’t say it but

I’ve noticed all sorts of things since then. You’re super observant, like you whip your head around when we pass people, and the dreams…”

I shrug. “Sounds right.”

“Drooling is messy,” Stuart continues to play and we ignore him, mostly. I can’t help glancing over while nudging his shoe under the table.

There is relief found from confiding in my friends, cathartic really, and I don’t feel alone. Sienna’s observation about how I appear to others is eye opening. Having visions for so long I forget how I must look, and my behavior must seem a little odd sometimes. That would explain my stellar popularity in high school – not.

I explain what happened the night Andre may have read me, and why the note is concerning. “And sorry for not sharing sooner. This isn’t the type of thing you blurt out to people you just meet, and I was worried you both would freak and run. No one else knows of my strangeness by the way, so no babbling.”

“No one?” Sienna is surprised.

“No one, not even my parents. Like I said, it’s a big deal being the only two who know, so keep it close. If anyone else finds out, I’ll know the source. By the way, I don’t, you know, intrude on either of your, you know, thoughts, not usually anyway.” I laugh. “I can’t seem to read Mr. Fairchild at all.”

He’s not listening; instead he stares out the window holding his cup, miles away.

TWENTY-TWO

excerpt

Jasper stands over my bed, his stealth presence waking me with violent energy and a sour, copper smell. He controls his heartbeats, the unmistakable image of Andre in twenty-five years. The man from the island now points a gun at my head.

Our eyes meet, his gleaming with evil deeds and plans for my future. He is blocked solid, making him colder than ever, without a soul. And my Guardian is missing, although I suspected he will pick up on the nemesis in my room any moment.

If not, this will be the end.

His sinister grin speaks volumes of chaos and doom. This I know without reading a thought in his head.

Having a gun pointed at you, knowing in a fraction of a second your life could end is nothing like the movies. The best actors can’t act well enough to convey what happens to you inside, the paralysis, the terror, the transformative view of life.

“Layla. Nice to see you.” The aristocratic Shakespearean theatrical inflexions drip with subtle sarcasm in every syllable. “Sorry about the close-call on the island. No harm, no foul?” He isn’t waiting for a response, just pausing for drama’s sake. “I promise I only want to chat. Misunderstandings can be so inconvenient.”

In order to stop my voice from trembling, I push words out as forcefully as possible, hissing through my teeth. “Get out now.” I jump to my feet, determined to assume a defensive posture before the slaughter. The promise of war in his eyes advises me to stay calm. My toes grip the hardwood floor to hold steady. The gun stays casually aimed at my skull.

“Layla, I’m not here to play games. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you on Colonsay.” His eyebrows rise to a diabolical arch. “On the contrary, it was there I determined you would be a dynamic asset to our organization and no one

will be harmed if you obey my instructions. Now, telegraph something sweet to him so doesn’t return because if he does I’ll kill him.” He waves the gun to remind me he’s armed. Totally

unnecessary.

Mom was right. They wanted to use me. I wonder if she’s picking up on this.

Find Vision on Amazon worldwide!

• Amazon.com
• Amazon.UK,
• Amazon.Germany
• Amazon.France,
• Amazon.Italy
• Amazon.Spain

Vision can also be found at BarnesandNoble.com.

Visit Beth Elisa Harris! Web site, Blog , Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads

Follow her weekly blog www.worldliterarycafe.com

February 1st falls in between the Winter Solstice and the Summer Equinox. Celebrated by druids and pagans as Imbolc, Brigid is praised as the goddess of light, the goddess of fire, and the goddess of the lactating ewes. All that really means is…spring is coming. As spring approaches, the days lengthen and animals begin to produce more milk. Thus, Brigid is also named the Fiery Arrow, bringer of light to the land.

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Saint_Brigid’s_cross.jpg

In the Christian tradition, St. Brigid was raised by druids and  she later converted to Christianity. As a child, Brigid was said to have been bathed in cow’s milk. As Abbess of Kildare, she is said to have miraculously increased the milk production of their cows. She performs many miracles, such as curing lepers, or hang up her famous blue cloak on a sunbeam.

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Saint_Brigid_by_Patrick_Joseph_Tuohy.jpg

The tradition of the sacred flame began at Kildare (Cill Dara), the Church of the Oak. Legend has it that the flame was originally used by Celts to invoke the ancient Goddess Brigid. When Saint Brigid, possibly a contemporary of St. Patrick, began her nunnery, she continued the tradition of the flame. The flame survived until the 16th century, when the Catholic faith was suppressed by Protestant rule. In 1993, the flame was re-lit at Kildare, now tended by the Brigidine Sisters in Kildare.

About the groundhog…it looks to be a Pennsylvania German tradition, first celebrated in Pennsylvania in 1841 (you can look it up here on Wikipedia.) If you find a Brigid connection, let me know. So far, I’m not seeing one.

Whether Christian, pagan, or simply an observer of groundhogs,  the first week of February celebrations means that light will soon shine.