Pondering the Muse by Reed Stirling – Guest Blog and Giveaway

October 4, 2023 By 9 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Reed Stirling will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

PONDERING THE MUSE

I would like to dwell on Mnemosyne, mother of the nine muses. In doing this, I borrow from Terry Burke, protagonist and narrator in my second novel, Lighting the Lamp, in his attempt to do the muse justice in his act of creative recollection. Mnemosyne is the Goddess of Memory.

The more I engage in this identity search, the more I labour in a chronological arrangement of factual recall, the more I grow aware of static thrumming behind the scenes that I evoke, a subjective electromagnetic radiation, so to say, informing the background of my narrative with a species of tension stretched between past events and my recollection of them. The spectrum thus engendered ranges from humorous self-effacement to guilty self-reproach.

But truthful accounting. What to make of it? Total fabrication, I fear, may result in any effort to animate memory when significant events from decades past hide among the vagaries of time like participants in a game of blindman’s bluff. Memories can fracture and fragment. Misremembering may deflate the import of a specific childhood event, a first confession where guilt now has an incomprehensible context, for instance, or a bee sting, or on your seventh birthday getting your eye blackened by the neighbourhood bully. Then again, misremembering can conflate two or more innocent enough disinclinations on the part of a fair-haired friend into a single blockbuster put-down where the adolescent’s broken heart lies not in halves but in millions of pieces. Putting into words today what happened years ago requires disciplined deliberation. A nuanced articulation is hardly the equivalent of an adrenalin rush. How does one examine with any kind of accuracy the scar tissue of past emotion?

What’s more, can one’s heart beat melodiously? Or nerves shatter? Does disappointment droop or sag? Anger boil more than clench its fists?
Semantic refinement can distract endlessly if veracity is really the object of the exercise. Recollections can roam chimera-like in distant locations where the light of today’s understanding is faint. Narrative truth is a complex matter even with the aid of varying perspectives. How to record in a convincing manner disturbing or contrarian points of view and not be accused of being a hateful bigot?

Memory: acts of the mind aligning imagination, exaggeration, and artifice. You grasp today what eluded you yesterday and call it truth, though in the process you certainly do fabricate, falsify, or lie absolutely.

As sunlight breaks out of the darkness above Mount Tzouhalem, I am reminded of mythical Orpheus emerging from the world of shades, lyre in hand, having ascended through Stygian tracks, where the past follows along at a distance and falls back into oblivion. And after the subterraneous gloom and the loss, the light, of course, the immense light. Orpheus reborn crossing the threshold, Orpheus on the rebound, striding along in contemporary dress and climbing the steps of a temple adorned with life-size friezes of voyage and discovery, and where Jason, his one-time captain, points to the horizon, while Medea looks on having dipped the proffered silver goblet into her Cauldron of Regeneration. Proceeding into the world of intimate connections and transient appearances, Orpheus contemplates, in the web of endless possibilities that his mind weaves, the meaning of finality. His exit is not pretty, but it is poetic, and it is memorable. The lyre he holds against his chest will contribute nightly to the music of the spheres.

Day one: check-in on the Iphigenia, a Boat & Bike home for thirty guests of diverse backgrounds on a one week excursion through Holland and Belgium. Personalities clash, conflicts arise.

Day seven: a body is found in canal waters at the stern of the boat. On the final morning a second body is discovered.

Who among the cyclists and crew is hateful and motivated enough to kill? Twice. How are the two murders related? Why two coins for the ferryman? Is the phoenix jug, both admired and derided, merely symbolic? How does the death mask of Agamemnon lead to resolution?

Determining truth entails travelling from Amsterdam to Bruges to Paris to the ancient site of Mycenae in Greece where what’s past is shown to be prologue.

About the AuthorReed Stirling lives in Cowichan Bay, BC, and writes when not painting landscapes, travelling, or taking coffee at The Drumroaster, a local café where physics and metaphysics clash daily. Before retiring and taking up writing novels, he taught English Literature. Several talented students of his have gone on to become successful award-winning writers.

He and his wife built a log home in the hills of southern Vancouver Island, and survived totally off the grid for twenty-five years during which time the rooms in that house filled up with books, thousands of student essays were graded, and innumerable cords of firewood were split.

Literary output:
Shades Of Persephone, published in 2019, is a literary mystery set in Greece.
Lighting The Lamp, a fictional memoir, was published in March 2020.
Set in Montreal, Séjour Saint-Louis (2021), dramatizes family conflicts.
The Palimpsest Murders, a European travel mystery, is forthcoming.
Shorter work has appeared over the years in a variety of publications including Dis(s)ent, Danforth Review, Fickle Muses, Fieldstone Review, and Humanist Perspectives.

Intrigue is of primary interest, with romantic entanglement an integral part of the action. Greek mythology plays a significant role in underpinning plots. Allusions to art, literature, philosophy, and religion serve a similar function. Reed sits down to write every day and tries to leave the desk having achieved at least a workable page. Frequently what comes of his effort amounts to no more than a serviceable paragraph, a single sentence, or a metaphor that might work in a context yet to be imagined.

Website | Books We Love Publishing | Kindle Unlimited.

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War of the Animals by Jonathan Decoteau – Spotlight and Giveaway

October 3, 2023 By 6 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jonathan Decoteau will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Mankind struck first. This time, nature fights back…

A failed effort to weaponize animals awakens their intellects. The military responds by creating death camps to exterminate infected animals. Moon Shadow, an Arctic white wolf, unites with White Claw, a polar bear king, to form Animus Nor, the first animal republic, to negotiate peace. The uneasy peace is broken with the rise of Azaz, lord of the grizzly bears. Azaz attacks human settlements, considering humans an invasive species that wreaks havoc on bears and the environment. A world war breaks out as animals face humans and each other to see who will rule the world.

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The War of The Animals series asks: What if animals rose up against humanity’s pollution of the environment and destruction of their habitats? What if it was a fair fight? This excerpt is from the first chapter and introduces Moon Shadow, queen of the wolves, the protagonist of the early books.

Moon Shadow shook the harshest of the white winds off with an afflicted whimper. Her paws—icicles lined with nails—winced in their impending numbness. Still, Moon Shadow ran forward. In the distant echo of dreams, she remembered what it was like to live in the world before the end of worlds. An illegally smuggled white Arctic wolf, Moon Shadow knew the love of her former masters before the new age. The tiniest of the humans reminded her of her own pups, tiny balls of white fur that she hoped to coddle until it was their time to hunt. Yet, the same masters took her pups from her, putting them up for the highest bidder to steal. Even after seeing more of the great North American continent than she had ever dreamed of in her life of relative leisure, Moon Shadow had seen no sign of her pups. She wondered if they were now grown with pups of their own. In her heart, she knew it was unlikely that they survived The Rapsys, or Opening of Eyes, as the street dogs of her former town rather poetically referred to this massive change that shook the very marrow of their bones.

About the Author:I am a nature lover who lives and teaches in beautiful, pastoral New England.

The War of the Animals books were inspired by the 2020 pandemic lockdown. I remember driving by animals that freely roamed the streets after we were in lockdown (I was getting groceries—not ignoring state mandates—I promise!). I felt for the first time how much the animals were in lockdown whenever we weren’t. That inspired the idea of a variety of animals having voices and speaking up for the earth. I started writing the books shortly thereafter.

Check out my website (with character profiles and links to other work).

Website

The eBook can be downloaded for free at most major online retailers, including at the following: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or iBooks.

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What would I tell an aspiring author? by Nicholas Dufresne – Guest Blog and Giveaway

October 2, 2023 By 9 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nicholas Dufresne will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What would I tell an aspiring author?

Start at the beginning, and when you get to the end, stop. It might sound simple, but in practice, it’s incredibly hard to do. So much of yourself goes into the world and characters you create that it can be hard to make something complete. Something whole. Something you’re satisfied with.

This piece of advice resonated with me when I was working on my novel. I had within me something I wanted to share with the world and knew the only way I’d be able to do so was if I sat down and did it myself. Whenever I was stuck writing in a slog, I would think about finally writing down the words “The End” and it gave me the motivation to continue.

A story can be daunting to pen down but can be broken up into tiny, much smaller pieces that you can chip away at until it’s done. You don’t need huge writing sessions where thousands of words flow out of you and into your manuscript. Just do what you can when you can and always keep moving forward.
Each person has within them a voice just waiting to be heard by the world, and I think this is what makes every piece of literature unique. Through written words, you get a glimpse into somebody else’s mind as they breathe life into a story only they could dream up.

It can get hard, finishing that story or editing that chapter but I assure you it’s all worth it in the end. To see other people immerse themselves in your creation and form thoughts and opinions on your story you never thought possible is a wonderful feeling.

Nothing can compare to holding your book in your hands for the first time and realizing that you’re the one that made it all possible. Seeing and feeling a tangible result to all that effort I put into mine made so incredibly proud of what I had accomplished.

It took months to write my first draft and years before it was finally published. And yet, I never stopped chipping away at it, one step at a time. No matter how hard it got, I kept at it. I didn’t wait for motivation to strike me before deciding to write anything down. I wrote and made the inspiration come to me because every word I added gave me new ideas for the next one.

My story was constantly on my mind, and I think up new scenes wherever I go. When I think I find something that works, it leaves me excited to sit down and flesh it out. So far, I’ve written four books in the Genesis Saga series but have only published the first one. I started at my story’s beginning and when I get to the end, I’ll stop.

I just haven’t gotten there yet.

Adrian thought his time as a human experiment was over, that he was done suffering and had finally died. Never did he expect to wake up somewhere new, somewhere alien and far different than he could’ve ever imagined.

Has he found salvation, or is a test subject all he’s destined to be?

***

When a scouting mission brings Reya and her team to a star sector that doesn’t support life, they stumble into far more than they first bargained for. The planet they thought was deserted contains secrets with far-reaching consequences.

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The last thing he remembered was his futile struggle against the blue. Everything had been blue. He’d felt himself fade as the last vestiges of life fled from his body. His mind had shut down, turning itself off. And then, everything went black.

The darkness.

That crushing, never ending darkness.

Adrian shivered for entirely different reasons as his body heat leached away into the ground beneath him. He breathed deep lungfuls of air, immersed in the simple feeling of being. Blinking owlishly, he rid his eyes of the substance that clouded them while he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

About the Author: Nicholas Dufresne is a Canadian writer from Montreal. An avid reader and lover of stories, delving into the worlds created by others is a passion of his that inspired him to write one of his own to share with the world. Fantasy and science fiction are his preferred genres, both to read and write. When not reading or writing, he’s probably dreaming up new worlds to explore.

https://nicholasdufresne.com | Facebook | Instagram | LinkedIn

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Three Ways to Handle Negative Criticism by Charlene Bell Dietz – Guest Blog and Giveaway

October 2, 2023 By 8 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Charlene Bell Dietz will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Three Ways to Handle Negative Criticism

Negative criticism hurts, yet you have to laugh. It’s built into our DNA. Don’t believe me? Scold a toddler and watch the outrage in form of pouting or temper tantrums. When we’re involved in creating something, we never want to hear it’s a failure.

Writers hold dear the stories in their heads, which they mold into words and sentences for others. If wise, we have others critique our works before we send them out into the world. We do this by asking our friends, families, or the worst critiquer of all, our mothers. More accurate critiques come from dedicated critique groups. These groups have individual experiences of being told what’s wrong with their own writing. Trust me, they can’t wait to share their newfound knowledge.

For example, one might say to you, “When you write a gerund, don’t you know you must never say ‘you’ but ‘your’ before the gerund, such as, ‘I appreciate your giving me this hacksaw.’” Your critique partners will use their hard-earned information as a point of brilliance in their offering to make your work better. However, you know this advice is incorrect, because you’re focusing on a person, Sam, instead of the hacksaw. Your protagonist has asked five other people for a hacksaw, but it’s Sam who gives her one. You’re correct in writing, “I appreciate you giving me this hacksaw.”

When a piece of your writing gets a negative critique, or a reader suggests a correction in your published book, you have many ways to respond. A defensive, “How dare they!” reaction often jumps into our head. Next, we feel compelled to defend our writing in question. Neither response yields productivity. Instead, try my three ways to handle negative feedback.

Before reacting, take a deep inhale and exhale through your mouth, completely. This resets your brain and body, releasing tension. Practice doing this discretely when others are around so you can secretly deep breathe in your critique group. If you do this three times in a row, you’ll be surprised at how much calmer you feel.

Be polite, but chose to ignore: If your critiquer is an individual or a part of a group gathered for this purpose, say, “Thank you, I’ll take your suggestions into consideration.” Then you can let the advice simmer in your mind and decide later. When you’ve cooled down, if it’s right advice for your work, accept it. My first book opened with the words, “Die, old lady, please die.” My critique group exploded. I had to, they demanded, get rid of that line. They insisted, and so I did. I shouldn’t have. Many revisions later, that detonation of a line opened my story. Trust me, even if they reread your revised version, they’ll not remember what they said or know you’ve ignored their generous wisdom.

Recognize the truth and acknowledge: My first novel went through countless revisions, after being applauded, as well as, in part, shredded by my critique group over the years. When I knew it shined and emitted perfection, I’d send it off to a writing contest. However, the results would come back with a bit of praise, and in my mind, lots of scathing remarks. I don’t remember what the judges wrote, but they’d say something like this: Your first chapter doesn’t engage. This section doesn’t move the story forward. You aren’t letting the reader know what the other characters are doing. The reader needs more descriptions. The husband of the protagonist is one-dimensional. You’re writing in the weeds, here. You need another murder closer to the beginning. You’re overwriting.

Yikes! Should I quit? Should I respond back to them and explain why I wrote what I did?

No. Never give up. Never explain or justify. They don’t want to hear it, and they don’t care. It’s their opinion. Your job is to look at your manuscript with fresh vision. What if they’re right? You don’t have to believe them, but “What if?”

I rewrote my novel, giving careful considerations to the judges’ comments. I reinserted the “Die, old lady . . .” first line my critique group found objectionable. Then, I found a publisher. This book, The Flapper, the Scientist, and the Saboteur, won first place in the New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards, and when sent to Kirkus Reviews, it earned their coveted Kirkus Review: starred review.

When given negative feedback, take a deep breath, ignore it, or accept what’s appropriate and expand your writing knowledge.

A privileged teenager from Minneapolis in 1923, scraps her college scholarship and runs away to become a flapper in dangerous, chaotic Chicago. In her search for illusive happiness, she confronts the mob and then must contrive a way to not be murdered.

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Kathleen continued, “You said you wished you could go to college with me. What if we could go somewhere together, not to college, but someplace where we could dance and act and you could sing? I bet with our talents, we could turn this horrid world into something much more joyful—help make it one big party.”


“How?” Sophie’s eyes opened wide.


“We’ll go where you won’t have to teach kids piano, or act or dance, unless you want. You’ll be able to sing your heart out and, who knows, maybe even write your own songs.”


“My mother would never let me.” Sophie looked off into the near distance.

“Sophie, we’ll get to wear sparkly dresses. And wouldn’t you love to wear those modern, classy clothes? We’d bob our hair even shorter, wear lipstick, and be around people who know how to have fun and not have a care in the world.” Sophie should see the photos in Kathleen’s collection of theater magazines again. Then she’d be excited too.


“I’m sick of funerals and consoling others,” Kathleen continued.


“Look at how miserable Dolly is. Aren’t you tired of that too? We’d be around progressive people, thinking people, people who know how to make the most out of life. They’re searching for talent, Sophie. We’ll fit right in.”


“Where, Kathleen? No one much appreciates our abilities here.”


“Chicago. There are all sorts of openings for attractive young ladies with well-turned ankles and voices like canaries. That’s what theadvertisements say.”


About the Author:Charlene Bell Dietz’s award-winning mystery novels The Flapper, the Scientist, and the Saboteur combines family saga with corporate espionage, and The Flapper, the Impostor, and the Stalker propels readers back into 1923 in frenetic Chicago. The Scientist, the Psychic, and the nut gives readers a frightening Caribbean vacation. Her latest novel The Spinster, the Rebel, and the Governor is a historical biography about Lady Margaret Brent, the first American woman to be called an attorney, whose integrity and intelligence saves pre-colonial Maryland from devastation. This book won the New Mexico Press Women’s first place award and an award by the National Press Women. The Spinster, the Rebel, and the Governor will be released as a second edition by Artemesia Press in February 2024. Two of her Flapper books have won the coveted Kirkus stars, and two were named best book of 2018. Charlene, a retired educator, lives in the foothills of the mountains in central New Mexico where abundant wildlife, solitude, and natures’ beauty inspires her creativity.

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Pondering the Muse by Eden Monroe – Guest Blog and Giveaway

September 26, 2023 By 12 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Pondering the Muse

When I thought about writing Who Buried Sarah, my first step was to decide on a provocative title and then write the story to fit that title. Next I briefly considered time periods in which to set this story, and quickly settled on the 1920’s, my source of inspiration very quickly coming into focus. First of all 1926 when the story begins as well as 1927 as it continues are important family milestones for me, as are the settings of Gondola Point and the neighbouring village of Rothesay. Both are very dear to me because my mother spent her formative years in that area, a poor girl and youngest child of a widowed mother who worked as a live-in maid. That meant Mum had to go to school with the sons and daughters of the Rothesay elite. Given my mother’s obvious economic and social limitations she naturally felt ostracized, and her natural inclination toward melancholy, which I inherited, did not make for an easy time.

Sarah and Fanny in Who Buried Sarah shared similar life circumstances, although I choose to help them rise above it. They would not suffer as my mother once did.

My father also briefly lived in Gondola Point, a small farming community on the Kennebecasis River, and met my mother selling strawberries door to door. So how could I have anything but a romantic heart?

My inspiration for Sarah’s fiancé, Connor McLagen, the son of wealthy businessman Pritchard Mclagen and his wife Agnes, is again a throwback to old-money Rothesay and the privilege of affluence. At one time Rothesay was a summer haven for the well-to-do of nearby Saint John, but following the great fire in June of 1877 that destroyed a major portion of that city, many who had summer homes in Rothesay chose to relocate there on a permanent basis – social standing intact.

Of course placing McLagen & Son Ltd. on the Saint John waterfront during Prohibition was a natural fit. I simply could not resist the easy pickings offered by this venerable old city, incorporated in 1784: the salty tang of ocean breezes, the bustling harbor and stately stone buildings – architectural triumphs – that rose in defiance from the ashes of the great fire. A story set in Saint John is certainly worth telling.

To help breathe life into my characters I cast their roles from the ranks of TV and cinema to star in Who Buried Sarah. Going about it that way, as I always do, helps dialogue flow more easily while I get to know everyone better. When the characters are fleshed out so to speak and I hit the groove, it makes for a much more relaxed experience. I become the spectator, or however they wish to put me to good use to get their story told. But even those stars who’ve been cast must continue to inspire me, or I will find someone else to play the part. It has certainly happened before.

I’m also heavily influenced by music – inspired by a song I hear on the radio or wherever. If I am greatly moved by a song, if it touches that spot deep within me, a book idea is immediately born. I don’t even have to write it down. I will never forget the emotion it evoked in me. Emotions are one of my best inspirations, as are passions. For example, my passion for roses became Sarah’s passion for roses in Who Buried Sarah, her independent spirit my own battle cry.

Sarah, the only child of Rev. and Mrs. Cranston Estey, was betrothed to Connor McLagen of the affluent McLagen family. The McLagens were socially revered, although there were rumours of nefarious underpinnings to their substantial wealth, and the God-fearing Esteys were not in favour of the marriage.

Three days before the June 1927 wedding, Sarah disappeared. Her note said she’d changed her mind and decided to leave town.

A week later she was found, buried in a rose garden, the gruesome and sensational discovery knocking New Brunswick prohibition wars out of the headlines.

There were many with secrets to keep…

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“Then stop playing with fire. Look, I like it that you want to … go further … but not now, darling. We have to wait for the right time and I promise to live up to your expectations. There will be nothing holding us back then, but I promise I will be gentle.”

Shifting away from him slightly, she gazed out across the river. “I understand that. I’m not exactly inexperienced about such things, Connor.”

Had she really just said that aloud? She was aghast that the secret she knew she had to share with him at some point had spontaneously bubbled to the surface. This was probably the worst time for such a revelation, but there was no turning back now.
There was silence as she waited for the fallout from the bomb she’d just dropped, not daring to look at him.

“Excuse me?” he asked after a moment, his voice gone hard. “What did you mean by that, Sarah?”

Apparently this had unexpectedly become the time for truth telling. She was as surprised as he was it was happening, but she loved him too much not to be completely honest. She’d just thought it would somehow be easier to do. “What I mean is … I’ve … ahhh … been with a man before.”

He was deadly calm. “In what way?”

About the Author: Eden Monroe writes about real life, real issues and struggles, and triumphing against all odds. A proud east coast Canadian, she enjoys a variety of outdoor activities, and a good book.

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Futility of Defense by Bryan Cole – Spotlight and Giveaway

September 19, 2023 By 2 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Bryan Cole will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Paladins are nothing but trouble. When Krell, an uneducated nobody with a stubborn streak as wide as the sea, hears the call from ReckNor, the capricious god of the seas and skies, the attention of the rich and powerful turn their gaze toward him. Paladins are notorious for upsetting the balance of power, to the detriment of any who don’t worship their deity.

When Krell stands against the might of the sea devils and emerges victorious, concern and interest turn to fear—fear of their secrets and plans being revealed and exposed, of the ruin that often follows in a paladin’s wake. Now he stands in defense of a pitiful town at the edge of nowhere, even as the sea devil menace grows more dire for each day that passes.

For as deadly as the sea devils are to Krell, his past choices and the consequences of his actions may be deadlier still . . .

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“Petimus told us that you were unlike any paladin we have met before, but I must say, I am surprised nonetheless. Greetings, Krell of ReckNor. My name is Naerdra Smithforge, stonesinger of Talcon. Here to build a fortress to protect your small town from the sahuagin, I understand.”

Krell smiled, looking at her. She wore woolen leggings and a linen shirt, with a mantle of fine cloth embroidered with gold sigils. A red sash with a gold pin was her only other adornment.

“I am most pleased you are here, Naerdra. The town sorely needs your aid.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I will see one of these sea devils for myself.”

Krell’s expression darkened. “If you remain in Watford for any length of time, you certainly will.”

He gestured. “My trusted allies and companions, Verbena and Dahlia, who have stood with me against the sea devils and saved my life more than once.”

Naerdra nodded at them, and they both inclined their heads while bowing slightly. Krell stared at them for a moment. Their bows had been identical in both timing and depth.

“You’re certain you are uninjured, Krell? You have blood on your face,” said Petimus, his voice concerned.

Krell turned toward him and grinned. “As Olgar will tell you, some lessons can only be learned a single way, at least for me. I am ReckNor’s blade, and he wants it sharp. That means that I will be pressed against the grindstone at times. Unpleasant, but necessary. Still, his gifts are many, and the grace of ReckNor has healed my wounds already.” Krell stood and stretched.

Naerdra looked at Krell, then at the tree in front of the temple, then upward to the sky. “I have heard also that you are dragon friend, Krell of ReckNor. Is this so? May I meet your mighty companion?”

Krell nodded, smiling. “Of course, Naerdra. Fortis is currently hunting, though I think he does it because it amuses him more than because he requires food. He dislikes it when I… uh…” Krell glanced at Verbena.

“Query, Krell. When you query him.”

Krell nodded. “He dislikes it when I query him while hunting. He will return when he is satisfied with himself.”

About the Author:

Bryan is an avid reader, and has loved the fantasy genre since he was a child. His love of stories of mighty knights, terrible dragons, and noble steeds has inspired him for decades.

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Voices of Cancer by Lynda Wolters – Spotlight and Giveaway

September 18, 2023 By 4 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Lynda Wolters will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

“I don’t know what to say” and “I don’t know what to do” are common responses to a life-threatening diagnosis. Voices of Cancer is here to help.

Every cancer story is different, but there is one commonality: both patients and the people supporting them often struggle to properly articulate their wants and needs through particularly challenging and in many cases, uncharted territory. Lynda Wolters knows firsthand: she was diagnosed with stage 4 terminal mantle cell lymphoma in August of 2016.

Voices of Cancer offers a candid look into the world of a cancer patient, informed by Lynda’s own story and conversations had with dozens of patients weighing in on their needs, wants, and dislikes as they navigate the complex world of diagnosis, treatment, and beyond. With comprehensive and accessible insight from people who’ve been there, Voices of Cancer helps educate, dispel fears, and start positive conversations about what a cancer diagnosis truly means, while shining a light on how best to support a loved one on their own terms.

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Voices on Thoughtless Words

There is no perfect thing to say to someone with a devastating disease, but honest conversation and true statements are better than fluffy words that are best suited for use as a slogan. It’s okay to let the patient know you don’t know what to say. It’s okay to let them know you are afraid of offending them or making them feel sad with your words or your personal fear of what they are going through. And it’s okay to just sit with them, cry with them, listen to them vent, or just share space.

Some of my most comforting times were when people just shared space with me. Every time I was hospitalized, my dear friend Michelle would bring all her “gadgets”—cell phone, laptop, etc.—and work from my hospital room. Sometimes staying an hour or more, often not speaking but just sitting with me and working on her laptop, she shared space and her love.

About the Author:

Lynda was born and raised in a tiny farming community of 400 in northern Idaho. She worked on the family farm, with her first job being picking rocks out of the fields and ultimately graduating up the ladder to driving a grain truck and combine during harvest. Following high school, Lynda continued her education in Las Vegas before she moved back home to Idaho to raise her three sons.

Lynda still resides in Idaho with her husband and their peekapoo, Max.

Lynda has worked in the legal field for 30+ years and enjoys ballroom and swing dancing, horseback riding, kayaking, and river rafting. She has a heart for people and enjoys regularly volunteering. She spends the bulk of her spare time reading and writing.

Lynda was diagnosed with terminal stage 4 Mantle Cell Lymphoma (MCL) in August 2016. She touts herself as being a thriving warrior of the disease.

Lynda has completed two books of nonfiction: Voices of Cancer, released in October 2019, and Voices of LGBTQ+, released in August 2020.

The Placeholder, Lynda’s debut novel, was released in November 2022.

Lynda has published the following articles: Navigating the Workplace with Chemo Brain, February 23, 2020, Elephants and Tea. and When Masks Weren’t Popular, March 24, 2020, Patient Power. She has spoken on several podcasts, been a guest on a local talk show regarding Voices of Cancer, and given interviews for other outlets and print.

Jane Brody wrote up Voices of Cancer in the New York Times, her article entitled What to Say to Someone with Cancer, on January 13, 2020, with a follow-up on January 20, 2020, entitled, When Life Throws You a Curveball, Embrace the New Normal.

The Chinese translation rights of Voices of Cancer have been purchased by a grant to offer the book to medical students in Tawain.

Lynda donates Voices of Cancer books and a portion of its proceeds to Epic Experience, a nonprofit camp for adult survivors and thrivers of cancer located in Colorado.

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What Scares Me the Most by Nick Wilford – Guest Post and Giveaway

September 18, 2023 By 16 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nick Wilford will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What Scares Me the Most

As an author, what scares me the most is running out of ideas. It probably won’t ever happen because I believe there’s an infinite variety of ideas out in the universe, so maybe what I’m more scared of is not doing justice to a great idea. Or, which is perhaps worse, repeating myself with similar themes. In this post I’d like to take the opportunity to share some tips on dealing with these issues for anyone who’s interested in writing, or perhaps you’ve already taken the plunge and have run into such challenges.

One of the hardest things to deal with for any writer is when what appears on the page doesn’t match up with the vision in your head. It’s probably true for any form of art – music, film, painting. You have that initial flash of inspiration and then must spend many months chipping away at the block of marble to try to get to the shape you had in mind. And sometimes, you hit something at the wrong angle and it seems like there’s no way it can be fixed.

One way of dealing with this problem is remembering that the reader is in pretty much every way a lot more important than the writer. Without a reader, your story is just a record to yourself of your own thoughts and inclinations. Is it a piece of art? Certainly, but it hasn’t embarked on its trajectory yet. Once it enters the mind of a reader, then it’s begun its journey. And crucially, the reader doesn’t have the burden of the vision you had before beginning writing. There are no preconceived expectations. The reader is free to take the story and appreciate it any way they like, and they will take their own vision from it. The original one that the author experienced is just space dust at this point. Trust in the story on the page becoming its own entity.

So, you’ve got to reconcile that idea of what comes out on the page not living up to the image in your head, but once you’ve accepted that it should become a lot easier to move forward. There are things that help you chase that vision, of course. It’s always said that a writer should carry pen and paper to capture any ideas that occur, but you should also do the same to write down any developments in your work in progress that come when you’re away from your desk. Or you can record them on your phone and take voice notes. Many writers have a plan that they stick to point by point, or a bulletin board with milestones they must hit in the story. Those are all fine. But the best approach for me is simply to follow where the characters want to go. They might have things in mind that you never thought about, and certainly for me I can’t know their desires, weaknesses and motivations in any depth until I start writing about them. Although you might have started with a grand vision in your head, what the writer wants out of the story ultimately isn’t really relevant. It’s what the characters want that counts. You are merely a conduit.

Harica is gifted with the ability to defuse conflicts using her mind. When she is recruited to assist in resolving a war via an arranged marriage, she discovers that the reluctant bride-to-be has similar powers. Princess Jasmila doesn’t use her powers for good and when Harica arrives to help with the marriage arrangements, she fights back and sends Harica into a coma.

It is through this comatose state that Harica discovers a mysterious liminal space populated by others who share her gift. In this new realm, she learns to do things she never believed possible, but soon things spiral out of control.

In the face of a terrifying and seemingly unstoppable adversary, Harica wrestles with the decision to come to terms with the dark side of her gift.

Will she take ownership of it or turn her back on it forever?

Enjoy an Excerpt

I tried to get a handle on the energy and interplay between the two minds. Jasmila’s was, as I’d expected, much stronger, practically drowning out Narbert’s signals by sheer force, but that didn’t put me off. There would be something I could latch onto, a vulnerable side, even if it was buried deep. Obviously, I would have to concentrate on Jasmila first.

The princess’s complacency was what I was counting on. If she already thought she had me beat, hopefully her guard would be down.

Subtlety wouldn’t be the watchword here. I didn’t want to give her time to sense her own plan hadn’t worked because then she would fight back all the more. I charged like a battering ram but quickly realized this wasn’t going to work. Pulling off something like this was a delicate operation that needed both parties to play along. The “bull in a china shop” approach wasn’t going to cut it. Although there was a bit of give from Jasmila at first, once she rumbled my attack, her mind turned into a brick wall that I bounced off like a tennis ball. I tried to come back for more, attempting a more measured approach, looking for a crack somewhere, even a hairline one, but it was hopeless. It was like trying to tunnel under a mountain with my bare hands. Somewhere in the vicinity I sensed Narbert, bobbing haplessly about, buffeted by the slipstream caused by the battle between me and Jasmila. I couldn’t help him. And we were both caught up in her orbit now, spinning helplessly.

About the Author:
Nick Wilford is originally from Brighton, England and now lives in a quiet town in Scotland with his wife, three daughters and six rescue dogs. Wanting to make a career from writing, he trained in journalism, but soon realized that the fictional realm was where his true passion lay. He enjoys writing speculative fiction, exploring the things that cannot be seen and “making the impossible reality.” Nick is the author of the Black & White YA dystopian series and has also published a collection of shorter fiction as well as curating, editing and publishing a fundraising anthology featuring a diverse array of talent. By day, he works as a freelance editor, and he also enjoys travelling to inspiring locations with his family, listening to music and helping unwanted dogs find loving homes.

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An Eye for the Highest and Best by Dr. Nancy-Angel Doetzel- Spotlight and Giveaway

September 12, 2023 By 2 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Dr. Nancy-Angel Doetzel will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Living in this world of such disruption and uncertainty can result in us facing despair. How can we attune to the rainbow after a storm, and create hope and happiness? How do we develop an eye for the Highest and Best, when faced with what appears to be the worst? What steps should we take to reconnect with our ability to be resilient?

In this book, Dr. Doetzel shares some important insights gained from her own experiences of teaching university, battling cancer, being a journalist, travelling worldwide, dealing with grief, and facing the global pandemic. Along the way, she introduces her readers to fresh ways of viewing their lives, by applying an Appreciative Inquiry lens that inspires the practice of a more conscious way of living, resulting in discovering serenity.

Readers may start to re-examine their own challenges, while discovering their own gems that warrant gratitude. The reflective questions and stories suggest ways of removing blocks to happiness and constructing healthier relationships.

The book is also an ideal tool for educators to apply to teaching Appreciative Inquiry as a qualitative research methodology.

Enjoy an Excerpt

While attending a church service in a Mexican Cathedral, Angel’s phone had fallen out of her purse. Reaching for it later, intending to make a call, she suddenly notices it was missing. Frantically, she rushed to the hotel front desk to inquire how she could contact the Cathedral. When she arrived, the hotel clerk was holding her golden cell phone, while still looking for an identification on it.

After identifying her cell phone, the clerk told her the story of the person who had turned it in. The lady had picked up the phone in the Cathedral, under a bench. She then noticed a hotel key in the phone case slot, which matched her own hotel key. So, when she returned to the hotel after mass, she gave the cell phone to the front desk attendant.

Angel believed having her cell phone returned by someone staying at the same hotel and attending a common church service, was a miracle in action, and she was tempted to share the story with the police officer, after he checked for her phone.

About the Author:

Dr. Nancy-Angel Doetzel has been teaching in the Sociology Faculty of Mount Royal University since 2006, and as a seasonal sessional instructor in the Faculty of Education at the University of Calgary since 2005.

An award-winning scholar, journalist, and musician, she won a Distinguished Dissertation Award for her doctorate dissertation, leading to the publication of her two books: Cultivating Spirituality in Education: Synergizing Heart and Mind and Old Heart Child’s Eyes: A Diary of Miracles.

In 2017, her students at Mount Royal University honoured her with a Teaching Excellence Award. In 2018 her students also acknowledged her for promoting wellbeing and good health within the classroom, and for being a good mentor. She received her MA, HBA, HBSW, and BA degrees from Lakehead University.

She received her PhD from the University of Calgary in 2004. She studied Intuitive Medicine in Vancouver and received a professional certification (I.C.A.D.C) from the Canadian Council of Professional Certification. She also was awarded a Broadcasting Radio and Television diploma from Confederation College. She encourages her students to examine the world through different lenses, exercising altruism, promoting social justice, and learning to be a good sociologist.

Her Mount Royal University blog is titled, Debunking Deceptive Myths. In addition to her recently published books, she has also authored and published eight scholarly articles in her field.

In February 2020, the Calgary Herald, rated one of her books (a pre-amble to this one) as a local best seller. She is currently conducting research about complementary medicine and continuing to teach at Mount Royal University.

Aside from teaching and conducting research, Dr. Doetzel has hosted a radio show “From the Heart,” airing on AM 1140 High River, for the past 10 years. She has recorded four albums of her own original songs.

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Welcome to Wonderland by Bobbie Candas – Spotlight and Giveaway

September 11, 2023 By 4 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Bobbie Candas will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A recently fired biologist with mommy issues, a successful entrepreneur with a dead wife, and an immigrant hiding from gang violence…These three have only one thing in common.

They’re all screwed up

Biology researcher, Violet Hill, was just let go and is devastated. She found the solitary lab and long hours the ideal respite for her anxiety issues–doing meaningful work while avoiding people and conversation. Now unemployed, with diminishing finances, Violet is forced to face the enemy, her mother.

For years, Turner Cooper was consumed with building his company’s client roster, until the sudden death of his wife throws him totally off kilter. Now, instead of work, Turner’s guilt and alcohol issues consume him.

Living a reclusive life in Dallas, Rosario Guzman is hiding from a Mexican cartel while working in the shadows at three part-time jobs. Finally, the item she covets the most, a Green Card, arrives in her mailbox. But Rosario quickly realizes the paper card doesn’t solve all her problems.

While navigating social issues, private demons, and nightmare memories, these three lives collide as they find each other at a place none of them ever imagined they’d be working at. As their mutual relationship evolves, Violet, Turner and Rosario lean into each other and unexpectedly find their lives unfurling in remarkable and magical ways.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Violet is Blue
Violet Hill

Mother considers me awkward, graceless, and socially challenged, but always has hope for improvement. I disagree and think of myself as critically shy. Is there such a diagnosis? I’ve learned I do best when I can control limited social encounters. That’s why I’m better working alone, in a world I’m comfortable and familiar with, the study of soil, seeds, and grasses.

I’ve been working as a research assistant with Dr. William Hirshfield. After finishing my masters at UT in Austin, I gratefully found my hidey-hole at the UT School of Environmental Sciences. After being hired, I realized it was the perfect job for me. For a year, we’ve been running experiments and collecting data on soil absorption, attempting to come up with a microbial substance that will turn arid lands into potential blooming fields of agriculture. All well and good for keeping me in my cozy, solitary research lab, but with the added bonus of working toward saving a warm and crowded planet.

Then yesterday happened.

Dr. Hirshfield called me unexpectedly to meet in his office. We normally only met every two weeks for consultations on experiments. I sat down across from his desk, with my sweating palms gripping the arm rests of the chair. The meeting opened with congenial small-talk. I said, “Hello.”

As with most people I conversed with, I found it difficult looking at Hirshfield when he spoke. Today I found his floorboards especially interesting. Wide wood panels which had me wondering, were they deliberately distressed or actually marred from age? As he shuffled papers on his desk I reached down and touched the floor. Definitely faux distressed.

He nervously coughed and then continued, “Violet, I must say, your work has been exemplary, but…”

Oh shit… The proverbial but. I shuddered slightly.

As I pretended to be intrigued with the floor, Hirshfield said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news to share.” He coughed again. “I’ll just get right to it. I hate to tell you this, but our next year of NIH funding has been cut. They haven’t renewed the terms of our project at the previous level and claim our results are not going as quickly as we initially projected.”

He seemed to be talking to himself now, explaining his problems to the ceiling as my eyes nervously flitted up occasionally to watch. “Seems our study is on the low end of their priority scale regarding research grant money. But our idea has so much merit! It dovetails perfectly with climate change issues and food production for overpopulated areas. Anyway…it’s probably all politics. Therefore—” He coughed a third time. Nervous tick or avoidance? Either way, not a good sign. “I’m having to cut most of my research staff, including your position.”

Please no. Had I heard correctly? I was praying he’d single me out as too good to let go. But of course not. My eyes became moist and my body went cold. I had finally found my place in this chaotic world, my comfy, musty den. Where I could reach my fingers deep into sandy soil and disappear into another world within my microscope. I’d clock in for hours of uninterrupted work, eat a sandwich over my work station by myself, needing to only interact with others regarding information I was knowledgeable about.

Now apparently all that was gone.

And what remained? Going home to Mother? I was devastated. I felt like laying down on those faux floorboards and curling up in a ball.

“Dr. Hirshfield, p-perhaps p-part-time. Tw-Twenty-five hours a week?”

In case you missed that, I have a noticeable stutter, which seems to come into full bloom during times of stress.

“I only wish that were possible, Violet. The grant has been downgraded to include lab equipment, supplies, and compensation for only a few key personnel. I’m so sorry. This has all come as quite a surprise. So, we’re making adjustments immediately; I can keep you for another two weeks. I wanted you to hear it from me, personally.”

I mumbled, “Th-Thank you,” then stood up, wrapped my arms across my chest, and meekly asked about a possible reference letter. He went back to shuffling papers and nodded, agreeing to my simple request. I quickly walked out with my head down, making my exit before he had the chance to shake my perspiring palm.

I spent the next few weeks desperately attempting to find a position with another research team within the department. There were several available for volunteer and credit work, but all paid positions were fully staffed. Although my educational credentials were excellent, my interviewing skills were a little shaky. I considered customer service positions, but they never seemed a good match, and I truly wanted to continue within my field of study.

At the end of the two-week period, I decided to call in for financial reinforcement. Via email, I sent my mother news of the change in job status, then requested funds to keep me in Austin while I continued to look for work, but instead of an electronic deposit, she offered this:

Dear Violet,
So sorry to hear about your job loss. I know you’ve been happy with your little research position. Sometimes these minor hiccups work out for the best. I think you need more stimulation and interaction in your work. When I visited, your lab job seemed so sterile and lonely. I’m sure I can line something up for you through my contacts in Dallas. Come home, darling. The guest house was recently redone and you’re welcome to use it. It’ll be fun hanging out together again. I believe I’ll call Lexy and see if she can revise her schedule and set aside sessions for you. What day should I expect you? Can’t wait to catch up! –Mother

She was not going to be sympathetic to my cause. I made a second stab at job hunting, knowing it was only a delay tactic. Was I being an ungrateful little bitch? Sort of. But I knew I’d have to deal with my mother’s incessant smiling face, popping in without warning, spewing false cheer, urging me to conform to her standards, and always sending out subliminal messages regarding her underlying sense of disappointment in me.

It had been five years since I’d lived at home. My first year in the dorms had been a disaster. I was happier on my own, renting an apartment for three years while earning my bachelor’s and another two for my masters, comfortably surviving in my small, quiet efficiency.

In contrast, Mother’s home was palatial, but for me it was a luxurious prison sitting on a green oak-studded hill overlooking White Rock Lake in Dallas.

I dragged out my move. I felt no incentive to rush home knowing what lay ahead; struggling through painful interviews, going through clothing issues and social events with Mother. Yes, still a tender issue at age twenty-four. Then, once again, I’d start sessions with my speech therapist, Lexy.

Unfortunately, research assistant’s pay was low, Austin rents were high, and the guest house at Mother’s was free. Economically, it made sense. Emotionally, I was an unhappy wreck.

And who could I complain to? Call 911 — My mother is inviting me to move into her newly renovated guest quarters. Put her on trial? — She insists on buying me new clothing suggested by her personal shopper at Neiman’s. Lock her up? — She’s offering me therapy for an affliction which admittedly has recently become worse.

I was a pathetic whiner. Time to get up, pack it in, and get moving.

About the Author:

Bobbie Candas lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband, Mehmet Candas, a stray gray cat, and a jealous tabby who does not enjoy sharing affection with the interloper. Bobbie attended The University of Texas in Austin, earning her degree in journalism. She took a detour with a career in retail management, and found her happy place when she returned to writing fiction about nine years ago.

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