“WAG #11: Scaredy-Cat”
Another people-watching exercise! Choose a stranger and observe him/her for a little
while. Now give them a phobia. A full-on, jump on the chair, scream like a little
girl,
unreasonable
fear. (Or however you imagine them to respond.) Try to choose something that fits
the person you’re watching, and let us know what it is about them that clued you
in to their secret fear. The object is not just to describe the fear, but to make
us understand why it fits with this particular person.
Special thanks to
Christine Kirchoff
for this week’s topic idea! Email NixyValentine AT gmail DOT com to contribute topic
ideas. It’s very helpful!
Post the results on your blog, and
read this post about the group for information on how to notify me
so your post will be properly included in next week’s list. (Note, please include
WAG #11
in the subject heading and tell me how you want your name to appear! If you do not,
I will use the name as it appears on your email.) Deadline: next Tuesday, May 12th.
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So I’m at a party over the weekend. We were all gathered in the kitchen around the food and drinks. The windows were open, stirring the tangy smell of spicy ribs through the house. The bluesy sound of sax warbled over the desultory buzz of idle chit chat. Just as I was elbowing my way to the living room to find a seat, a nerdy looking guy in a pair of thick horn rims stopped me, striking up a conversation. It turned out he was an exterminator.
“Yeah,” he went on in his nasally voice. “Gotta catch ‘em buggers before they get out of hand. Spiders and cock roaches breed like rabbits. Gotta zap ‘em dead.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, the food on my plate suddenly far less appealing than it had been seconds before. “I’ll just be on my way.”
SWAT! He slapped his arm. Then he jabbed his forefinger into his horn rims, catching them as they slid down the bridge of his long, straight nose. “Even after three showers, still feel like those spiders and bugs are crawling in my skin and hair.”
“I’ll just be on my way,” I said, feeling a bit itchy my own self.
SWAT! The force of his elbow had me jumping. If I do say so, I did a mighty fine job of balancing my food.
“Like I said,” he gave himself another good hard swat for good measure. “Feel like ‘em buggers are still on my skin.”
“Yeah,” I said, finally breaking free of the nerd. “Good luck with that.”
I dumped my food in the nearest waste can, my stomach queasy. I left the party, still stuck on the bugs. I couldn’t shake them loose from my brain.
As I crawled between the sheets that night, I visualized spiders and roaches in my hair, on my skin, nesting and breeding like rabbits. A little shudder went through me. I swore I felt the beginnings of hives breaking out on my arms and legs. My eye began to twitch. Just the thought of such a thing had niggles of fear skittering down my spine. Then I laughed out loud. Somehow the nerd in the horn rims had managed to pass his bug phobia onto me. If that didn’t beat all. I drifted off, realizing that phobias were all in the mind. But still, I thought, ideas stirring. It would make for a good fantasy thriller—or a writing assignment. The possibilities were endless.
Want to join Nixy’s WAG Writers Adventure Group? Here’s how:
http://www.nixyvalentine.com/index.php/2009/02/writing-adventure-group/
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Can you put a price tag on your writing?
I don’t usually get on my soap box—but I cannot hold my tongue. Or in this case, cannot keep my fingers from skating across the keyboard. I am going to address one of my pet peeves--those who do not appreciate the gift of writing. I have three short stories published by The Wild Rose Press which is now White Rose Publishing. After taking countless classes in creative writing, both at local colleges and online, attending workshops and conferences and putting in far longer than the average eight hour day, I fancied myself the next Nora Roberts. I sent out query letters and partial manuscripts to literary agents all over the state of New York, certain they’d be ringing my phone off the hook. No such luck. Those phone calls never came, but one rejection letter after the next filled my mailbox to the hilt. Devastated, my heart wept. Totally disillusioned, I was ready to throw my dream of writing out the window. But then I wised up and realized the only way to get what I wanted was to fight for it with all I was made of. And that’s when things changed.
When I want something, I develop a competitive edge. And perhaps that’s what it took to push me so hard. After pulling my head out of the clouds, I developed a stiff upper lip and some mighty tough skin. And you know what they say…when the going gets tough…the tough get going. So I buckled down and enrolled in as many writing classes as I could find, polishing my manuscript to the best of my ability. And after getting feedback on it from my critique group, I felt ready to pitch it to a New York agent at a writers conference.
Nervous but confident, I presented my ten minute pitch, feeling certain I’d be asked to submit the entire manuscript. Once more, my dreams were shattered. The agent handed me back my business card…and I sure didn’t need him to show me the door.
Feeling sorry for myself, I was once again thinking perhaps writing just wasn’t meant to be. But then someone sat beside me at Starbucks while I was drinking a cup of coffee. I was so upset I wound up pouring my heart out to this woman who I had never met before. She handed me her business card and told me to submit my manuscript to The Wild Rose Press. That woman was Liana Laverentz. And that’s how I got my foot in the door with The Wild Rose Press. Through God’s intercession, when one door closed…another door opened.
The editors are wonderful to work with and the authors are willing to go the extra mile to lend a helping hand. Lori Graham is my editor and the feedback she gives me makes my writing shine. And when I got my first contract one year ago, it was like hitting the lottery for a million bucks. It had nothing to do with money. It was the feeling of accomplishment after striving for it for so long. No one understands a writer like another writer. There is no comparison to those words, “I’d like to offer you a contract.”
So you might be asking yourself where this is going. After my first contract, Lori offered me two more contracts shortly thereafter. Nicola designed my beautiful book covers and Rae Monet designed a killer website for me. I have had three releases this year along with a free read, all in the White Rose line. And my heart swelled with pride. So when someone made the derogatory comment, “I’m sorry you didn’t get a good price for your books,” my heart dropped.
Certainly we don’t get the money the big publishing houses pay, but what we do get is a whole lot more. We have editors who give us the chance to resubmit our work by giving very beneficial feedback, a caring staff, some of the best artists and awesome authors. And we all connect to support, promote, and be there for one another through thick and thin. The bigger publishing houses more than likely wouldn’t have such a rapport. I am proud to be a member of the garden and very proud to write for White Rose Publishing.
writing is a gift, a God-given talent meant to be shared. And I’m proud of my talent and hope to leave my footprint on the world when I’m gone. The emotional rewards far outweigh the monetary. And I know I speak for all writers. Writing is in my blood. If I didn’t get paid a penny, I’d still write in my journal or my blog. I write for emotional healing and to help make this world a better place.
As you know, before the loss of my vision, my passion was painting. Blending colors into a rich palette of crimson, peach and indigo into a desert sunset filled me with peace and tranquility. When I lost my sight, I was devastated for the obvious reasons, but mostly, because I could no longer paint. But after a long and winding road, a new dream resurrected when I discovered I could paint just as vividly with words. I never want to forget the simple beauty of a rose or the exotic beauty of a wildflower. And describing what I used to see and paint in such vivid detail is my way of remembering. Can you put a price tag on that?
When I want something, I develop a competitive edge. And perhaps that’s what it took to push me so hard. After pulling my head out of the clouds, I developed a stiff upper lip and some mighty tough skin. And you know what they say…when the going gets tough…the tough get going. So I buckled down and enrolled in as many writing classes as I could find, polishing my manuscript to the best of my ability. And after getting feedback on it from my critique group, I felt ready to pitch it to a New York agent at a writers conference.
Nervous but confident, I presented my ten minute pitch, feeling certain I’d be asked to submit the entire manuscript. Once more, my dreams were shattered. The agent handed me back my business card…and I sure didn’t need him to show me the door.
Feeling sorry for myself, I was once again thinking perhaps writing just wasn’t meant to be. But then someone sat beside me at Starbucks while I was drinking a cup of coffee. I was so upset I wound up pouring my heart out to this woman who I had never met before. She handed me her business card and told me to submit my manuscript to The Wild Rose Press. That woman was Liana Laverentz. And that’s how I got my foot in the door with The Wild Rose Press. Through God’s intercession, when one door closed…another door opened.
The editors are wonderful to work with and the authors are willing to go the extra mile to lend a helping hand. Lori Graham is my editor and the feedback she gives me makes my writing shine. And when I got my first contract one year ago, it was like hitting the lottery for a million bucks. It had nothing to do with money. It was the feeling of accomplishment after striving for it for so long. No one understands a writer like another writer. There is no comparison to those words, “I’d like to offer you a contract.”
So you might be asking yourself where this is going. After my first contract, Lori offered me two more contracts shortly thereafter. Nicola designed my beautiful book covers and Rae Monet designed a killer website for me. I have had three releases this year along with a free read, all in the White Rose line. And my heart swelled with pride. So when someone made the derogatory comment, “I’m sorry you didn’t get a good price for your books,” my heart dropped.
Certainly we don’t get the money the big publishing houses pay, but what we do get is a whole lot more. We have editors who give us the chance to resubmit our work by giving very beneficial feedback, a caring staff, some of the best artists and awesome authors. And we all connect to support, promote, and be there for one another through thick and thin. The bigger publishing houses more than likely wouldn’t have such a rapport. I am proud to be a member of the garden and very proud to write for White Rose Publishing.
writing is a gift, a God-given talent meant to be shared. And I’m proud of my talent and hope to leave my footprint on the world when I’m gone. The emotional rewards far outweigh the monetary. And I know I speak for all writers. Writing is in my blood. If I didn’t get paid a penny, I’d still write in my journal or my blog. I write for emotional healing and to help make this world a better place.
As you know, before the loss of my vision, my passion was painting. Blending colors into a rich palette of crimson, peach and indigo into a desert sunset filled me with peace and tranquility. When I lost my sight, I was devastated for the obvious reasons, but mostly, because I could no longer paint. But after a long and winding road, a new dream resurrected when I discovered I could paint just as vividly with words. I never want to forget the simple beauty of a rose or the exotic beauty of a wildflower. And describing what I used to see and paint in such vivid detail is my way of remembering. Can you put a price tag on that?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Such a Sweet Child
So for the WAG eight assignment, we had to make something unappealing appealing And I did so in my last post—for those of you who missed it--I turned a construction sight into a calypso band and dreamed I was sunbathing in the tropics. Now for this week, it’s time to turn the tables around and make something appealing anything but. And since one of the suggestions Nixy gave was a sweet child, one in particular came to mind…
My friends and I were at a picnic one warm hazy day in late summer. It was a picture perfect day with puffy white clouds drifting aimlessly across azure blue skies. A slight breeze swooshed through the towering pines in the woods, stirring the scent of charcoal and grilled burgers. Paddle boats rippled the waters of the mirror-still lake, kids and adults enjoying the last of the lazy, hazy days of summer.
I noticed a little girl hovering in the far corner of the shelter. She had her arm wrapped around the post as if needing something to cling to. Her perfectly groomed pink fingernails gleamed in the sun like neon lights. And not a lock of her thick blonde hair was out of place. She looked about six. Unlike the other kids, she wasn’t partaking in a game of catch or bad mitten. She wasn’t tugging on a parent’s arm for something to eat or drink. She wasn’t doing much of anything other than watching life pass her by. While the other kids screeched with laughter, she stood alone in the sidelines, quiet and subdued as an old woman.
Her spotless pink striped shorts and white t-shirt pulled at my heartstrings. Even her tennis shoes were a shocking shade of white. No way could the other kids attempt to hide what they’d been eating. Their cherry-stained lips, mustard and ketchup stained t-shirts and sticky fingers were dead give aways.
Sorrow and pity wedged its way into my heart, watching this sweet angelic child stand there all alone. Why didn’t the other kids invite her to play? Was she too prim and proper? Too pretty to play with? Surely at some point, they’d all arrived looking just as clean. It was natural for kids to get dirty and have fun. And where was this child’s parents? Why wasn’t anyone tending to her, asking her if she wanted a bite to eat or drink. Setting my burger down on the picnic table, unable to choke down another bite, I walked over to her.
“Hi there. And what’s your name?”
“Penny,” she said, her big cornflower blue eyes wide with innocence. “And what’s yours?”
“Sharon,” I said. “Who are you here with?”
“My mom and dad.”
“Ah. And where are your parents?”
“Out on the boat, see?” she pointed to a couple on the lake.
They looked over and waved. My heart dropped. What kind of parents would go out on a boat and leave their six year old child to fend for herself. I studied her. She was far too serious for a child her age. And it didn’t take a Rhode’s scholar to psychoanalyze her. Not even a class in Psychology 101. I sighed, disgusted.
“So, Penny, would you like something to eat? A hot dog or a burger? Something cold to drink?”
“No thank you. I’ve already eaten.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You have. My, you sure are neat. I noticed a dabble of mustard on my shorts. “Neater than me.”
She smiled up at me, the sweetest dimple in her left cheek. She batted her eyes and looked down. “It takes practice, practice makes perfect.”
I cleared my throat. What a sweet child, so lonely, so grown up for her age. Then I saw it, a tear rolling down her cheek. And just as I went to hug her, tell her it was all right to be a child, she stuck her long slender leg out and tripped me, a big smile on her angelic face.
I tripped and fell flat on my face. My mouth agape, I stared up at her in total disbelief, watching her angelic face turn into a monster. Her bow-shaped lips stretched into a screeching howl. I got up, brushed myself off. “Why did you do that?”
She ran off, cackling like a wild hyena. Over her shoulder, she yelled, “Cause turning adults into suckers is my favorite game in the whole wide world. And I always win…”
Want to join Nixy's writing group? Visit her blog for details at:
http://www.nixyvalentine.com/index.php/2009/02/writing-adventure-group/
My friends and I were at a picnic one warm hazy day in late summer. It was a picture perfect day with puffy white clouds drifting aimlessly across azure blue skies. A slight breeze swooshed through the towering pines in the woods, stirring the scent of charcoal and grilled burgers. Paddle boats rippled the waters of the mirror-still lake, kids and adults enjoying the last of the lazy, hazy days of summer.
I noticed a little girl hovering in the far corner of the shelter. She had her arm wrapped around the post as if needing something to cling to. Her perfectly groomed pink fingernails gleamed in the sun like neon lights. And not a lock of her thick blonde hair was out of place. She looked about six. Unlike the other kids, she wasn’t partaking in a game of catch or bad mitten. She wasn’t tugging on a parent’s arm for something to eat or drink. She wasn’t doing much of anything other than watching life pass her by. While the other kids screeched with laughter, she stood alone in the sidelines, quiet and subdued as an old woman.
Her spotless pink striped shorts and white t-shirt pulled at my heartstrings. Even her tennis shoes were a shocking shade of white. No way could the other kids attempt to hide what they’d been eating. Their cherry-stained lips, mustard and ketchup stained t-shirts and sticky fingers were dead give aways.
Sorrow and pity wedged its way into my heart, watching this sweet angelic child stand there all alone. Why didn’t the other kids invite her to play? Was she too prim and proper? Too pretty to play with? Surely at some point, they’d all arrived looking just as clean. It was natural for kids to get dirty and have fun. And where was this child’s parents? Why wasn’t anyone tending to her, asking her if she wanted a bite to eat or drink. Setting my burger down on the picnic table, unable to choke down another bite, I walked over to her.
“Hi there. And what’s your name?”
“Penny,” she said, her big cornflower blue eyes wide with innocence. “And what’s yours?”
“Sharon,” I said. “Who are you here with?”
“My mom and dad.”
“Ah. And where are your parents?”
“Out on the boat, see?” she pointed to a couple on the lake.
They looked over and waved. My heart dropped. What kind of parents would go out on a boat and leave their six year old child to fend for herself. I studied her. She was far too serious for a child her age. And it didn’t take a Rhode’s scholar to psychoanalyze her. Not even a class in Psychology 101. I sighed, disgusted.
“So, Penny, would you like something to eat? A hot dog or a burger? Something cold to drink?”
“No thank you. I’ve already eaten.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You have. My, you sure are neat. I noticed a dabble of mustard on my shorts. “Neater than me.”
She smiled up at me, the sweetest dimple in her left cheek. She batted her eyes and looked down. “It takes practice, practice makes perfect.”
I cleared my throat. What a sweet child, so lonely, so grown up for her age. Then I saw it, a tear rolling down her cheek. And just as I went to hug her, tell her it was all right to be a child, she stuck her long slender leg out and tripped me, a big smile on her angelic face.
I tripped and fell flat on my face. My mouth agape, I stared up at her in total disbelief, watching her angelic face turn into a monster. Her bow-shaped lips stretched into a screeching howl. I got up, brushed myself off. “Why did you do that?”
She ran off, cackling like a wild hyena. Over her shoulder, she yelled, “Cause turning adults into suckers is my favorite game in the whole wide world. And I always win…”
Want to join Nixy's writing group? Visit her blog for details at:
http://www.nixyvalentine.com/index.php/2009/02/writing-adventure-group/
Thursday, April 23, 2009
What's in a gemstone?
MYTHS AND FOLKLORE OF GEMSTONES
Want to ward off evil spirits? Bring balance and harmony into your life? Here is some legend and lore about gem stones dating back millions of years.
AGATE
Facts: Mystical stone for September, Zodiac sign Gemini. Gift for the twelfth and fourteenth wedding anniversary.
Location: All over the world
Color: All colors of the rainbow, although green and blue are rare.
Legend: Believed to discern truth, accept circumstances and is a powerful emotional healer. According to legend, agates improve memory and stamina and increase honesty. The agate is said to be particularly beneficial to those born under the Gemini sign as it brings calm. The agate is thought to prevent insomnia, bring pleasant dreams, improve one’s analytical talents and ward off danger.
AMETHYST
Facts: Official birthstone for February, Zodiac sign is Pisces. Gift to give on fourth, sixth and seventeenth wedding anniversary.
Location: All over the world
Color: Purple variety of the quartz stone ranging from deep purple, light lilac, lavender and mauve
Legends: Throughout history, amethyst has been used to guard against drunkenness and is thought to be helpful in overcoming addiction. This stone has been used for hearing disorders, insomnia headaches and other pain. The powers of the amethyst include peace, love, happiness, courage, general uplifting and is said to ward off thieves.
AMMOLITE
Facts: The mineralized remains of the ammonite. The ammonite is derived from the ancient Egyptian god Ammon who believed these creatures were divine. Ammon is depicted in literature by the head of a ram with twisted spiral horns.
Location: Mined in Alberta, Canada
Color: red, yellow, green, blue and every color of the rainbow
Legend: Dates back to the Blackfoot tribe of North America and was used to ward off evil spirits. It is believed by some Feng Shui masters that the ammolite absorbs cosmic energy from the universe and is thought to bring the wearer health, wealth and enlightenment. The ammolite is thought to enhance harmony, vitality and well being to owners and visitors of the home. The ammolite is said to be the rarest gemstone in the world.
EMERALD
Facts: Modern and traditional gemstone for May; Zodiac stone for Taurus and Cancer; Planetary stone for Taurus. Gift for twentieth and thirty-fifth wedding anniversary as well as alternative stone for fifty-fifth.
Location: Columbia and Brazil
Color: Deep grass green with slight bluish cast
Legend: Used as amulets to ward off epilepsy in children and cure diseases of the eye. Folklore suggests these stones will enhance memory, intelligence and clairvoyance, thus helping to predict the future. Cleopatra considered the emerald to be a most precious gemstone, bringing love and contentment.
GARNET
Facts: Birthstone for January, Zodiac sign for Aquarius. Gift for second and sixth wedding anniversary.
Location: Australia, Argentina, Brazil, South Africa, Scotland, Switzerland, Burma and the US.
Color: Every color except blue. Pyrope garnets are crimson to dark red.
Legends: Powers include protection, healing and strength and is often worn to reduce inflammation of the skin, regulate the heart, blood flow and ward off depression. In ancient times, garnets were given between friends to demonstrate affection and to ensure they’d meet again.
JADE
Facts: Mystical birthstone for the month of March and for the sun sign Virgo. Given as gifts for thirtieth and thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.
Location: Mexico, Russia, Central and South America
Color: Emerald green. Rarer jade is pink, lavender and black
Legends: Thought to protect the kidney, liver, spleen, heart, larynx, sinus and thyroid. Ancient folk believed wearing jade would increase strength and add longevity. Jade is an ancient symbol of love and virtue.
POPPY JASPER
Facts: From the quartz group, believed to be derived from sun-dried and oxidized iron-rich clay. Jasper is long attributed to magical powers in many cultures. It was used in ancient European cultures as a rain bringer as well as in some American Indian cultures.
Location: Morgan Hill, CA, Germany, Russia, India, Pakistan, France and the US.
Color: Multi-colored in stripes and spots, some of which are red and yellow.
Legend: Poppy jaspers act as adrenaline, stimulating areas of the body that appear to be sleeping. It is said to bring a deep connection with the life of the earth. Inspires joy and motivation and creativity. Jasper was thought to ward off evil spirits as well as snake and spider bites.
ONYX
Facts: Mystical birthstone for December, Zodiac sign for Leo. Onyx comes from the Greek word meaning nail of the finger or claw.
Location: Mined in Brazil, India, California and Uruguay
Color: Black
Legends: It is believed that one day while Venus was sleeping, Eros/Cupid cut off her fingernails and scattered the clippings on the ground. Because no heavenly body part can die, the gods turned them into stone which later became onyx.
OPAL
Facts: Birthstone for October, Zodiac sign Libra. Opals almost never crack because of their low water content.
Location: Australia
Color: Translucent reflecting all colors
Legends: Healing powers include aiding inner beauty, faithfulness, eyesight and helps recall past lives.
PEARLS
Facts: Birthstone for June, sun signs Gemini and Cancer. Fresh water pearls are given on the first wedding anniversary, as well as third, twelfth and thirtieth. An organic gem, pearls are formed inside mollusk shells as oysters or mussels. They are formed when an irritant as a stone or sand gets inside. A lustrous substance called nacre is secreted around the object to protect the soft inside. As layers of nacre form around the stone, a pearl is formed. This process can take up to eight years. The most valuable pearls are perfectly symmetrical and large. They have a shimmering iridescence called orient luster.
Types of pearls:
Natural pearls are made without human interference
Cultured pearls are made when a foreign substance is intentionally inserted in a living oyster.
Blister pearls are attached to the inside of the shell
Fresh water pearls form in fresh water mollusks and resemble puffed rice
Seed pearls are tiny pearls used in Victorian jewelry and are sewn on clothing
Location: Persian Gulf around the coast of India and the Red Sea. Chinese pearls come from fresh water rivers and ponds, where Japanese pearls are found near the coast in salt water. Fresh water pearls are also grown in the rivers of Australia, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, France and the US
Color: Pearls vary in color from white to those with a hint of color as pink, brown or black.
Legends: Fresh water and cultured pearls have the power of protection, love, money and luck. Pearls are thought to give wisdom through experience, quicken the laws of karma and to cement engagements and love as well as protect children. Ancient Chinese cultures believed pearls fell from the sky when dragons fought.
TIGER’S EYE
Facts: Tiger’s eye is the planetary stone for Gemini and is the accepted gift for the ninth wedding anniversary
Location: Mined in Western Australia, South Africa, Canada, US, India, Namibia and Burma
Color: Greenish cast with shades of brown, golden-yellow, red and blue
Legend: Psychic protector, great business aid and for achieving clarity. Also thought to bring health and well being to the wearer.
TOURMALINE
Facts: Birthstone for October, Zodiac sign Leo and the accepted stone for the eighth wedding anniversary. Tourmaline means that of mixed color.
Location: Mined in Africa, Australia, Afghanistan, Brazil, Kenya, Madagascar, Mozambique and various countries around the world.
Color: Wide variety and appear to change color from different angles. Pink and blue tourmaline are the most expensive.
Legend: Ancient legends suggest the tourmaline is found in all colors because it traveled along the rainbow and gathered all its colors. The stone is believed to strengthen the body, especially the nervous system, blood and lymphs. The tourmaline is said to inspire creativity in writers and artists.
TURQUOISE
Facts: Adopted birthstone for December and Planetary gem for Aquarius. Turquoise was brought to Europe by the eastern Mediterranean by Levantine traders—more commonly known as Turks.
Location: Mined in Persia and the US. The turquoise mined in the US has the black vein.
Color: Ranging from green to sky blue
Legends: Turquoise attracts money, success and love. Its powers include protection, healing, courage, friendship and luck. It relaxes the mind. Turquoise is sacred to many Native Americans and is carved in the shape of animals and birds. These carvings were placed in the Indian tombs to attract the beneficial spirits and to guard the dead.
Want to ward off evil spirits? Bring balance and harmony into your life? Here is some legend and lore about gem stones dating back millions of years.
AGATE
Facts: Mystical stone for September, Zodiac sign Gemini. Gift for the twelfth and fourteenth wedding anniversary.
Location: All over the world
Color: All colors of the rainbow, although green and blue are rare.
Legend: Believed to discern truth, accept circumstances and is a powerful emotional healer. According to legend, agates improve memory and stamina and increase honesty. The agate is said to be particularly beneficial to those born under the Gemini sign as it brings calm. The agate is thought to prevent insomnia, bring pleasant dreams, improve one’s analytical talents and ward off danger.
AMETHYST
Facts: Official birthstone for February, Zodiac sign is Pisces. Gift to give on fourth, sixth and seventeenth wedding anniversary.
Location: All over the world
Color: Purple variety of the quartz stone ranging from deep purple, light lilac, lavender and mauve
Legends: Throughout history, amethyst has been used to guard against drunkenness and is thought to be helpful in overcoming addiction. This stone has been used for hearing disorders, insomnia headaches and other pain. The powers of the amethyst include peace, love, happiness, courage, general uplifting and is said to ward off thieves.
AMMOLITE
Facts: The mineralized remains of the ammonite. The ammonite is derived from the ancient Egyptian god Ammon who believed these creatures were divine. Ammon is depicted in literature by the head of a ram with twisted spiral horns.
Location: Mined in Alberta, Canada
Color: red, yellow, green, blue and every color of the rainbow
Legend: Dates back to the Blackfoot tribe of North America and was used to ward off evil spirits. It is believed by some Feng Shui masters that the ammolite absorbs cosmic energy from the universe and is thought to bring the wearer health, wealth and enlightenment. The ammolite is thought to enhance harmony, vitality and well being to owners and visitors of the home. The ammolite is said to be the rarest gemstone in the world.
EMERALD
Facts: Modern and traditional gemstone for May; Zodiac stone for Taurus and Cancer; Planetary stone for Taurus. Gift for twentieth and thirty-fifth wedding anniversary as well as alternative stone for fifty-fifth.
Location: Columbia and Brazil
Color: Deep grass green with slight bluish cast
Legend: Used as amulets to ward off epilepsy in children and cure diseases of the eye. Folklore suggests these stones will enhance memory, intelligence and clairvoyance, thus helping to predict the future. Cleopatra considered the emerald to be a most precious gemstone, bringing love and contentment.
GARNET
Facts: Birthstone for January, Zodiac sign for Aquarius. Gift for second and sixth wedding anniversary.
Location: Australia, Argentina, Brazil, South Africa, Scotland, Switzerland, Burma and the US.
Color: Every color except blue. Pyrope garnets are crimson to dark red.
Legends: Powers include protection, healing and strength and is often worn to reduce inflammation of the skin, regulate the heart, blood flow and ward off depression. In ancient times, garnets were given between friends to demonstrate affection and to ensure they’d meet again.
JADE
Facts: Mystical birthstone for the month of March and for the sun sign Virgo. Given as gifts for thirtieth and thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.
Location: Mexico, Russia, Central and South America
Color: Emerald green. Rarer jade is pink, lavender and black
Legends: Thought to protect the kidney, liver, spleen, heart, larynx, sinus and thyroid. Ancient folk believed wearing jade would increase strength and add longevity. Jade is an ancient symbol of love and virtue.
POPPY JASPER
Facts: From the quartz group, believed to be derived from sun-dried and oxidized iron-rich clay. Jasper is long attributed to magical powers in many cultures. It was used in ancient European cultures as a rain bringer as well as in some American Indian cultures.
Location: Morgan Hill, CA, Germany, Russia, India, Pakistan, France and the US.
Color: Multi-colored in stripes and spots, some of which are red and yellow.
Legend: Poppy jaspers act as adrenaline, stimulating areas of the body that appear to be sleeping. It is said to bring a deep connection with the life of the earth. Inspires joy and motivation and creativity. Jasper was thought to ward off evil spirits as well as snake and spider bites.
ONYX
Facts: Mystical birthstone for December, Zodiac sign for Leo. Onyx comes from the Greek word meaning nail of the finger or claw.
Location: Mined in Brazil, India, California and Uruguay
Color: Black
Legends: It is believed that one day while Venus was sleeping, Eros/Cupid cut off her fingernails and scattered the clippings on the ground. Because no heavenly body part can die, the gods turned them into stone which later became onyx.
OPAL
Facts: Birthstone for October, Zodiac sign Libra. Opals almost never crack because of their low water content.
Location: Australia
Color: Translucent reflecting all colors
Legends: Healing powers include aiding inner beauty, faithfulness, eyesight and helps recall past lives.
PEARLS
Facts: Birthstone for June, sun signs Gemini and Cancer. Fresh water pearls are given on the first wedding anniversary, as well as third, twelfth and thirtieth. An organic gem, pearls are formed inside mollusk shells as oysters or mussels. They are formed when an irritant as a stone or sand gets inside. A lustrous substance called nacre is secreted around the object to protect the soft inside. As layers of nacre form around the stone, a pearl is formed. This process can take up to eight years. The most valuable pearls are perfectly symmetrical and large. They have a shimmering iridescence called orient luster.
Types of pearls:
Natural pearls are made without human interference
Cultured pearls are made when a foreign substance is intentionally inserted in a living oyster.
Blister pearls are attached to the inside of the shell
Fresh water pearls form in fresh water mollusks and resemble puffed rice
Seed pearls are tiny pearls used in Victorian jewelry and are sewn on clothing
Location: Persian Gulf around the coast of India and the Red Sea. Chinese pearls come from fresh water rivers and ponds, where Japanese pearls are found near the coast in salt water. Fresh water pearls are also grown in the rivers of Australia, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, France and the US
Color: Pearls vary in color from white to those with a hint of color as pink, brown or black.
Legends: Fresh water and cultured pearls have the power of protection, love, money and luck. Pearls are thought to give wisdom through experience, quicken the laws of karma and to cement engagements and love as well as protect children. Ancient Chinese cultures believed pearls fell from the sky when dragons fought.
TIGER’S EYE
Facts: Tiger’s eye is the planetary stone for Gemini and is the accepted gift for the ninth wedding anniversary
Location: Mined in Western Australia, South Africa, Canada, US, India, Namibia and Burma
Color: Greenish cast with shades of brown, golden-yellow, red and blue
Legend: Psychic protector, great business aid and for achieving clarity. Also thought to bring health and well being to the wearer.
TOURMALINE
Facts: Birthstone for October, Zodiac sign Leo and the accepted stone for the eighth wedding anniversary. Tourmaline means that of mixed color.
Location: Mined in Africa, Australia, Afghanistan, Brazil, Kenya, Madagascar, Mozambique and various countries around the world.
Color: Wide variety and appear to change color from different angles. Pink and blue tourmaline are the most expensive.
Legend: Ancient legends suggest the tourmaline is found in all colors because it traveled along the rainbow and gathered all its colors. The stone is believed to strengthen the body, especially the nervous system, blood and lymphs. The tourmaline is said to inspire creativity in writers and artists.
TURQUOISE
Facts: Adopted birthstone for December and Planetary gem for Aquarius. Turquoise was brought to Europe by the eastern Mediterranean by Levantine traders—more commonly known as Turks.
Location: Mined in Persia and the US. The turquoise mined in the US has the black vein.
Color: Ranging from green to sky blue
Legends: Turquoise attracts money, success and love. Its powers include protection, healing, courage, friendship and luck. It relaxes the mind. Turquoise is sacred to many Native Americans and is carved in the shape of animals and birds. These carvings were placed in the Indian tombs to attract the beneficial spirits and to guard the dead.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Rose colored glasses
Here's the exercise:
“WAG #8: Rose Colored Glasses” Go out and choose an unfamiliar object (in other words,
one you have no history with) that strikes you as ugly, repulsive, annoying, etc…
some ideas might be: a wad of squashed gum on the pavement, a dead squirrel on the
side of the road, an ugly sign, a loud construction site, a tacky sculpture in a
charity shop… and write about it in such as way as to make it appealing to your reader.
Really sell it! Use whatever words you want and cheat as much as you want, but do
your best!
Totally unplugged, my writers’ block a thing of the past, I was up most of the night typing my blues away. And with the help of some pretty strong black coffee and a whole lot of quiet—I added three chapters to my suspense thriller. But suddenly, the caffeine kick fizzled out, leaving me dead tired and dragging. I could barely hold my head up. So with the dawning of a new day, I turned down the sheets and rolled into bed. Ah…that pillow felt like heaven. The window was open, bringing in the brisk morning air and the delicate scent of green grass and lavender. And with the birds sweetly chirping, I dozed off into a world of total bliss…
No sooner had I closed my eyes when the roar of bulldozers blasted from outdoors, followed by a massive boom that shook the earth. Then the grinding started, producing a vibrating shriek.
My temples throbbed. Reality filtered through my brain. The neighbors mentioned something about having their diseased oak tree chopped down this morning. Moaning, I pulled the comforter over my head, shrouding out the world. But the hissing of saws grew louder and louder, slicing through my last nerve. Then the bellowing began, robust male voices rising over the extricating of gnarled branches.
“Timmmmmm berrrrrr!”
Crash. Bang. Grind.
In the distance, a dog began yapping. Then the screeching of brakes across the street, a heavy slam of the door. Within seconds, the growling of a power mower on the neighbor’s terrace from across the street. The sound of my own blood thundered in my ears. “Noooo!” I wailed. Tuesday. The elderly woman across the street had her lawn manicured every Tuesday morning.
And so it continue—the hiss of the saw, the massive bang of tree limbs plummeting to the ground, the bellowing of male voices, the zinging growl of the power motor. And in between, the yip yip yip of the dog.
How could I sleep. Too tired to get up, I listened, hypnotized by the steady sounds assaulting my eardrums. The mingled noises reminded me of a motley crew of amateur musicians. And if I used my writers’ mind, my creative muse that got me into this predicament in the first place…maybe…just maybe…
I was sun bathing on a Caribbean island in the tropics, the smell of coconut oil invading my senses, hot sun baking on my skin, a chilled margarita in my hand. Beneath the undulating palm trees, a calypso band played reggae music. The steady beat of the bongo drum, the blast of the horn, the vibrating zing of the brass cymbals banging together. They sounded so peaceful, so surreal…like paradise.
And before I knew it, I was dreaming I was in the islands, relaxing in the sun with my rose-colored sun glasses, toes buried in the coppery gold sand, sipping on a tropical beverage. And in the distance, the calypso band played on and on and on…
Would you like to join the writers adventure group? Visit Nixy’s blog for details:
http://www.nixyvalentine.com/index.php/2009/02/writing-adventure-group/
“WAG #8: Rose Colored Glasses” Go out and choose an unfamiliar object (in other words,
one you have no history with) that strikes you as ugly, repulsive, annoying, etc…
some ideas might be: a wad of squashed gum on the pavement, a dead squirrel on the
side of the road, an ugly sign, a loud construction site, a tacky sculpture in a
charity shop… and write about it in such as way as to make it appealing to your reader.
Really sell it! Use whatever words you want and cheat as much as you want, but do
your best!
Totally unplugged, my writers’ block a thing of the past, I was up most of the night typing my blues away. And with the help of some pretty strong black coffee and a whole lot of quiet—I added three chapters to my suspense thriller. But suddenly, the caffeine kick fizzled out, leaving me dead tired and dragging. I could barely hold my head up. So with the dawning of a new day, I turned down the sheets and rolled into bed. Ah…that pillow felt like heaven. The window was open, bringing in the brisk morning air and the delicate scent of green grass and lavender. And with the birds sweetly chirping, I dozed off into a world of total bliss…
No sooner had I closed my eyes when the roar of bulldozers blasted from outdoors, followed by a massive boom that shook the earth. Then the grinding started, producing a vibrating shriek.
My temples throbbed. Reality filtered through my brain. The neighbors mentioned something about having their diseased oak tree chopped down this morning. Moaning, I pulled the comforter over my head, shrouding out the world. But the hissing of saws grew louder and louder, slicing through my last nerve. Then the bellowing began, robust male voices rising over the extricating of gnarled branches.
“Timmmmmm berrrrrr!”
Crash. Bang. Grind.
In the distance, a dog began yapping. Then the screeching of brakes across the street, a heavy slam of the door. Within seconds, the growling of a power mower on the neighbor’s terrace from across the street. The sound of my own blood thundered in my ears. “Noooo!” I wailed. Tuesday. The elderly woman across the street had her lawn manicured every Tuesday morning.
And so it continue—the hiss of the saw, the massive bang of tree limbs plummeting to the ground, the bellowing of male voices, the zinging growl of the power motor. And in between, the yip yip yip of the dog.
How could I sleep. Too tired to get up, I listened, hypnotized by the steady sounds assaulting my eardrums. The mingled noises reminded me of a motley crew of amateur musicians. And if I used my writers’ mind, my creative muse that got me into this predicament in the first place…maybe…just maybe…
I was sun bathing on a Caribbean island in the tropics, the smell of coconut oil invading my senses, hot sun baking on my skin, a chilled margarita in my hand. Beneath the undulating palm trees, a calypso band played reggae music. The steady beat of the bongo drum, the blast of the horn, the vibrating zing of the brass cymbals banging together. They sounded so peaceful, so surreal…like paradise.
And before I knew it, I was dreaming I was in the islands, relaxing in the sun with my rose-colored sun glasses, toes buried in the coppery gold sand, sipping on a tropical beverage. And in the distance, the calypso band played on and on and on…
Would you like to join the writers adventure group? Visit Nixy’s blog for details:
http://www.nixyvalentine.com/index.php/2009/02/writing-adventure-group/
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Imaginings
“WAG #7: Imaginings” This one is people-watching with a twist. Observe a stranger
and sketch a brief background for them, including a secret. Then describe why they
are in that particular place at that particular time (where you ran into them) and
how it will affect their future. Feel free to be creative, but don’t forget to describe
the concrete reality that made you pick them in the first place!
I am going to use a scene to describe my main character’s secret. Here is a scene, his own private thoughts, giving a detailed description of what he wants and how he plans to get it.
Pouring himself two fingers of finely-aged bourbon, billionaire business tycoon Michael DeVeccio walked on the verandah of his mansion and gazed into the foothills. The raw beauty of the Red Rock Mountains encompassed him – massive columns of rock and open valleys thickly studded with sagebrush, miles of rugged terrain where rock formation changed from a startling white limestone to an iron-rich red, and lush forests full of petrified logs the Paiute Indians believed to be weapons of the wolf gods. And what a rush to climb to the top of the mountain and survey the dazzling Vegas Strip like king of the jungle.
Fishing a Marlboro from the pack, he tapped it three times on the parapet before lighting it. He inhaled deeply, allowing the nicotine to filter into his brain. Under the hunter’s moon, night predators slithered out of the underbrush, just on the periphery of the jagged twists and turns of the canyon. From deep in the woods, a coyote howled, its keening wail slicing through the quiet. Michael loved the call of the wild. The primitive cries got under his skin, arousing him. Dominant and defiant, animals fought to protect what belong to them. He especially admired the sleek moves of the panther. With its keen eyesight, acute hearing, and uncanny ability to sneak up on its prey unnoticed, it pounced on its victim in one slick move. Michael understood the moves of the night predators. He was one of them.
Michael DeVeccio had it all. A billion dollar construction company that built luxury resorts all over the world, a twenty-four room mansion with servants at his beck and call, the most dazzling club on the Vegas Strip, a fleet of outlandishly expensive sports cars, a private jet—and more money than he could use in ten life times. He had it all with the exception of one thing, a son, an heir to his vast domain. And once he found the perfect woman to produce his heir and propagate the family business, the DeVeccio Empire would rule the universe. He envisioned the ideal woman to produce his heir being flawless in every way. Her inner beauty would shine as bright as her outward appearance, she’d have proper etiquette with impeccable manners, and she’d be cultured in fine arts. His perfect woman would be well educated on current events when hosting extravagant parties and galas for his business associates. She’d be honest and sincere and loyal to him and only him. And she would not be a woman beguiled by his wealth and fortune. Yes, he mused, taking a final drag of his cigarette. This perfect woman would be angelic and worthy of producing the heir to his kingdom. And the time had come to find that woman. And it would happen. He ruled it so.
So you get the idea. His intention is to beguile the perfect woman into believing she is the woman of his dreams…for the sole purpose of producing his heir…
and sketch a brief background for them, including a secret. Then describe why they
are in that particular place at that particular time (where you ran into them) and
how it will affect their future. Feel free to be creative, but don’t forget to describe
the concrete reality that made you pick them in the first place!
I am going to use a scene to describe my main character’s secret. Here is a scene, his own private thoughts, giving a detailed description of what he wants and how he plans to get it.
Pouring himself two fingers of finely-aged bourbon, billionaire business tycoon Michael DeVeccio walked on the verandah of his mansion and gazed into the foothills. The raw beauty of the Red Rock Mountains encompassed him – massive columns of rock and open valleys thickly studded with sagebrush, miles of rugged terrain where rock formation changed from a startling white limestone to an iron-rich red, and lush forests full of petrified logs the Paiute Indians believed to be weapons of the wolf gods. And what a rush to climb to the top of the mountain and survey the dazzling Vegas Strip like king of the jungle.
Fishing a Marlboro from the pack, he tapped it three times on the parapet before lighting it. He inhaled deeply, allowing the nicotine to filter into his brain. Under the hunter’s moon, night predators slithered out of the underbrush, just on the periphery of the jagged twists and turns of the canyon. From deep in the woods, a coyote howled, its keening wail slicing through the quiet. Michael loved the call of the wild. The primitive cries got under his skin, arousing him. Dominant and defiant, animals fought to protect what belong to them. He especially admired the sleek moves of the panther. With its keen eyesight, acute hearing, and uncanny ability to sneak up on its prey unnoticed, it pounced on its victim in one slick move. Michael understood the moves of the night predators. He was one of them.
Michael DeVeccio had it all. A billion dollar construction company that built luxury resorts all over the world, a twenty-four room mansion with servants at his beck and call, the most dazzling club on the Vegas Strip, a fleet of outlandishly expensive sports cars, a private jet—and more money than he could use in ten life times. He had it all with the exception of one thing, a son, an heir to his vast domain. And once he found the perfect woman to produce his heir and propagate the family business, the DeVeccio Empire would rule the universe. He envisioned the ideal woman to produce his heir being flawless in every way. Her inner beauty would shine as bright as her outward appearance, she’d have proper etiquette with impeccable manners, and she’d be cultured in fine arts. His perfect woman would be well educated on current events when hosting extravagant parties and galas for his business associates. She’d be honest and sincere and loyal to him and only him. And she would not be a woman beguiled by his wealth and fortune. Yes, he mused, taking a final drag of his cigarette. This perfect woman would be angelic and worthy of producing the heir to his kingdom. And the time had come to find that woman. And it would happen. He ruled it so.
So you get the idea. His intention is to beguile the perfect woman into believing she is the woman of his dreams…for the sole purpose of producing his heir…
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Happy Easter!
Happy Easter!!
Easter Traditions From Around the World
Every nation has its own holiday traditions and Easter is no exception. The world’s diversity is reflected in these customs. I love collecting trivia and legend and lore. Here are some of my favorites to share with you.
United States
Begins with carnival, a celebratory parade in New Orleans the night before Lent. Lent continues for six weeks ending with a sunrise service on Easter morning. Some traditions include dying eggs, hunting for baskets and an egg hunt before enjoying a meal of ham, potatoes, breads and desserts. There is an annual egg hunt hosted by the president in Washington D.C. at the White House, a tradition started in 1978 by Rutherford B. Hayes.
England
In small towns, pancake races are held on Shrove Tuesday to mark the start of Lent. Traditionally, pancakes were made to empty the larders of rich food until Easter Day.
Celebrates the resurrection of our Lord with a festive parade. Churches are decorated with Easter lilies. Dance performances are hosted in which Morris dancers costumed in white shirts and red sashes celebrate. To add to the festivities, they wear bells around their wrists and ankles.
Poland
The Polish love the traditional meal of ham, kielbasa and babka bread. No Easter would be complete without this light yeast bread made with plump raisins, rum and vanilla. But not a bite is eaten until the food is placed in a basket and blessed at an Easter Saturday service.
Mexico
Papier-mache images of the traitor Judas of all sizes are suspended over streets and poles on Easter Sunday. They are filled with fire crackers and lit at the appropriate moment followed by much rejoicing.
Sweden
Young Swedish girls dress as witches on Easter morning and go around the houses with coffee pots to collect sweets and coins while people try to frighten them off by lighting fire crackers.
Spain
Easter is celebrated by beautiful floats of red carnations. In Murcia, a table is set to designate the Last Supper. Twenty-six men carry it through the town before setting it down for the feast. Madrid processions are silent--where village boys in Valencia and Helen play a drum roll from Holy Wednesday to Easter Sunday.
Greece
A priest lights a candle and all his neighbors use this candle to light their candles. After the service, the candles are carried home through a festivity of fireworks.
Hungary
Girls wear as many petticoats as possible to church. When they come out, boys sprinkle them with water for good luck.
Switzerland
Swiss toss eggs down the mountains for good luck. Fathers whistle on the Easter hare in the hope he will lay eggs in the children’s baskets on Easter morning.
France
Bells stop ringing on Holy Thursday to mourn Jesus’s death. On Sunday morning, the Resurrection, bells ring and people rejoice, hug and kiss.
Australia
Is where the Royal Easter Show is hosted in Sydney. This show exhibits the best produce and farm animals. Other festivities include fireworks, parades, joy rides for kids and delicious food. Rather than the rabbit, the Bilby is the symbol most associated with Easter in Australia. This is said to be due to the bunny rabbit destroying the agriculture crops. The hot game is Egg Knocking. The Easter celebration begins Good Friday and ends Easter Monday.
Germany
Begins on Good Friday with the draping of the cross. Fish is eaten on Easter Feast. Kids light huge bon fires on Easter Eve. Easter lunches include cookies, chocolates and cakes in the shape of a lamb along with ccruller, a thick donut. Kids enjoy egg hunts and a game of chocolate kiss where they gobble up as many chocolate covered marshmallows as they can stuff into their mouths. The child who eats the most and has the cleanest face wins a prize.Christmas trees are burned to welcome spring. The passion play, based on the life of Jesus is held in a town where about 1200 villagers take part.
So let’s have some Easter fun. Today is the twelfth day of A TISKET A TASKET PUT ROMANCE IN YOUR BASKET Contest.
Spring is in the air! Bees are buzzing. Children anxiously await the big morning
where they can graze on candy all day. What about Mom? We’ve got a treat for you!
Come join a group of romance authors in celebration of spring. Enter to win a prize
a day as well as enter to win the grand prize. I’m hosting the day’s contest and providing the link to tomorrow’s location.
Don’t forget to enter to win the grand prize! Here’s the dirt…
A TISKET A TASKET, PUT ROMANCE IN YOUR BASKET Grand Prize:
To enter to win prizes from the authors donating treasures to the grand prize (see
each day’s post for what an author is donating to the grand prize), find the four
Easter eggs in the A TISKET A TASKET, PUT ROMANCE IN YOUR BASKET blog event.
You will be searching for the above egg. And no, this isn’t one of them! (But it
might be hidden here so look around, just in case.) Visit all of the authors’ websites,
locate the FOUR eggs hidden somewhere on four different sites, make a list of their
locations by pasting the URLS to the website pages in an e-mail, then send the entry
to happyendings2007@aol.com by midnight CST on May 1st, 2009. The winner will be
randomly drawn and announced May 2nd at
Skhye Moncrief’s Blog
. Tip #1, subscribe to
Skhye Moncrief’s Blog
to learn if you’re the winner! Don’t miss the fun! See you next to the burgundy tulips. ~Skhye
So today, I am giving an eBook of my Easter story Lasting Love. Just leave a comment about a favorite Easter tradition and I will choose a name at midnight. Good luck!
And for the grand prize, I am donating a gift card for this beautiful Lasting Love rose bush. Isn’t it pretty?
So, tomorrow, April 13th, go visit Jennifer Johnson’s blog
http://jennfrancesca.blogspot.com/
Good luck bloggers and Happy Easter!!
Easter Traditions From Around the World
Every nation has its own holiday traditions and Easter is no exception. The world’s diversity is reflected in these customs. I love collecting trivia and legend and lore. Here are some of my favorites to share with you.
United States
Begins with carnival, a celebratory parade in New Orleans the night before Lent. Lent continues for six weeks ending with a sunrise service on Easter morning. Some traditions include dying eggs, hunting for baskets and an egg hunt before enjoying a meal of ham, potatoes, breads and desserts. There is an annual egg hunt hosted by the president in Washington D.C. at the White House, a tradition started in 1978 by Rutherford B. Hayes.
England
In small towns, pancake races are held on Shrove Tuesday to mark the start of Lent. Traditionally, pancakes were made to empty the larders of rich food until Easter Day.
Celebrates the resurrection of our Lord with a festive parade. Churches are decorated with Easter lilies. Dance performances are hosted in which Morris dancers costumed in white shirts and red sashes celebrate. To add to the festivities, they wear bells around their wrists and ankles.
Poland
The Polish love the traditional meal of ham, kielbasa and babka bread. No Easter would be complete without this light yeast bread made with plump raisins, rum and vanilla. But not a bite is eaten until the food is placed in a basket and blessed at an Easter Saturday service.
Mexico
Papier-mache images of the traitor Judas of all sizes are suspended over streets and poles on Easter Sunday. They are filled with fire crackers and lit at the appropriate moment followed by much rejoicing.
Sweden
Young Swedish girls dress as witches on Easter morning and go around the houses with coffee pots to collect sweets and coins while people try to frighten them off by lighting fire crackers.
Spain
Easter is celebrated by beautiful floats of red carnations. In Murcia, a table is set to designate the Last Supper. Twenty-six men carry it through the town before setting it down for the feast. Madrid processions are silent--where village boys in Valencia and Helen play a drum roll from Holy Wednesday to Easter Sunday.
Greece
A priest lights a candle and all his neighbors use this candle to light their candles. After the service, the candles are carried home through a festivity of fireworks.
Hungary
Girls wear as many petticoats as possible to church. When they come out, boys sprinkle them with water for good luck.
Switzerland
Swiss toss eggs down the mountains for good luck. Fathers whistle on the Easter hare in the hope he will lay eggs in the children’s baskets on Easter morning.
France
Bells stop ringing on Holy Thursday to mourn Jesus’s death. On Sunday morning, the Resurrection, bells ring and people rejoice, hug and kiss.
Australia
Is where the Royal Easter Show is hosted in Sydney. This show exhibits the best produce and farm animals. Other festivities include fireworks, parades, joy rides for kids and delicious food. Rather than the rabbit, the Bilby is the symbol most associated with Easter in Australia. This is said to be due to the bunny rabbit destroying the agriculture crops. The hot game is Egg Knocking. The Easter celebration begins Good Friday and ends Easter Monday.
Germany
Begins on Good Friday with the draping of the cross. Fish is eaten on Easter Feast. Kids light huge bon fires on Easter Eve. Easter lunches include cookies, chocolates and cakes in the shape of a lamb along with ccruller, a thick donut. Kids enjoy egg hunts and a game of chocolate kiss where they gobble up as many chocolate covered marshmallows as they can stuff into their mouths. The child who eats the most and has the cleanest face wins a prize.Christmas trees are burned to welcome spring. The passion play, based on the life of Jesus is held in a town where about 1200 villagers take part.
So let’s have some Easter fun. Today is the twelfth day of A TISKET A TASKET PUT ROMANCE IN YOUR BASKET Contest.
Spring is in the air! Bees are buzzing. Children anxiously await the big morning
where they can graze on candy all day. What about Mom? We’ve got a treat for you!
Come join a group of romance authors in celebration of spring. Enter to win a prize
a day as well as enter to win the grand prize. I’m hosting the day’s contest and providing the link to tomorrow’s location.
Don’t forget to enter to win the grand prize! Here’s the dirt…
A TISKET A TASKET, PUT ROMANCE IN YOUR BASKET Grand Prize:
To enter to win prizes from the authors donating treasures to the grand prize (see
each day’s post for what an author is donating to the grand prize), find the four
Easter eggs in the A TISKET A TASKET, PUT ROMANCE IN YOUR BASKET blog event.
You will be searching for the above egg. And no, this isn’t one of them! (But it
might be hidden here so look around, just in case.) Visit all of the authors’ websites,
locate the FOUR eggs hidden somewhere on four different sites, make a list of their
locations by pasting the URLS to the website pages in an e-mail, then send the entry
to happyendings2007@aol.com by midnight CST on May 1st, 2009. The winner will be
randomly drawn and announced May 2nd at
Skhye Moncrief’s Blog
. Tip #1, subscribe to
Skhye Moncrief’s Blog
to learn if you’re the winner! Don’t miss the fun! See you next to the burgundy tulips. ~Skhye
So today, I am giving an eBook of my Easter story Lasting Love. Just leave a comment about a favorite Easter tradition and I will choose a name at midnight. Good luck!
And for the grand prize, I am donating a gift card for this beautiful Lasting Love rose bush. Isn’t it pretty?
So, tomorrow, April 13th, go visit Jennifer Johnson’s blog
http://jennfrancesca.blogspot.com/
Good luck bloggers and Happy Easter!!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Overheard
Here's the exercise:
“WAG #6: Overheard” Another people-watching exercise this week! This time, let’s
listen! Choose a stranger and do your best to overhear what they say, and then write
it down. It can be on the phone, to someone else, or even them talking to themselves.
What does their voice, word choice, or tone tell you about them? Feel free to write
their exact words OR write it as you would for fictional dialogue. By now you guys
know the rules aren’t what’s important, but the experience!
So I’m sitting at a restaurant, waiting for a friend. With nothing better to do—and the assignment a perfect opportunity—I set out to do a little eavesdropping. And it wasn’t hard. The couple across from me gave me plenty to think about…
“Six months at best,” she quietly sobbed. She blew her nose daintily into a crumpled tissue. “That was the last thing I ever expected him to say when he came in with the lab work…six months.”
“I know, dear,” he said, emotions lodged in his throat. “I know. But we’ll make the most of it; I promise.”
“What about the kids?” her voice cracked. “Even though they’re all grown, this will break their hearts. You know Christmas is their favorite time of the year, a time for family, a time for reminiscing…”
“Hush now,” he reached over and patted her hand. “We’ll make every day Christmas, we’ll make every day a holiday.”
The woman paused as the waitress set down the coffee mugs. With a wistful sigh, she unrolled her silverware from the linen napkin. The metal utensils’ clinked together before gently clunking onto the surface of the wooden table. She snapped the wrinkles out of her napkin and sighed again. “I guess we never know when our time is up, do we?”
“No,” he stirred his coffee. “But when you think about it, knowing is a gift. Now we can make time to do all the things we wanted to do and never had time for. So what would you like to do? I’ll take some time off work and we’ll make every day an adventure.”
“Travel,” her melodic laughter echoed through the room. “You promised to take me to Paris some day. I’d say some day is now, don’t ya think?”
“Paris in the spring,” he stirred his coffee again. His spoon rattled when he put it on the table. He cleared his throat. “We kept putting it off, thinking we had all the time in the world, the business, the kids…and now…”
“Shh…” she patted his hand. “We have six months and that’s a long time to make every day count.”
“You’re right; it’s a gift.”
“Let’s go home,” she said as Always and Forever played softly on the stereo. “Let’s leave nothing to chance.”
Their departure left footprints on my heart. I sniffed, emotions lodged in my chest. Six months to make every day count, I thought to myself. How often we put off today what we can do tomorrow. What would you do if you had six months to do something you put off doing?
How to Join the Writing Adventure Group
Cora Zane
Iain Martin
Christine Kirchoff
Nancy J Parra
Sharon Donovan
Nixy Valentine
Lulu
Jon Strother
Marsha Moore
“WAG #6: Overheard” Another people-watching exercise this week! This time, let’s
listen! Choose a stranger and do your best to overhear what they say, and then write
it down. It can be on the phone, to someone else, or even them talking to themselves.
What does their voice, word choice, or tone tell you about them? Feel free to write
their exact words OR write it as you would for fictional dialogue. By now you guys
know the rules aren’t what’s important, but the experience!
So I’m sitting at a restaurant, waiting for a friend. With nothing better to do—and the assignment a perfect opportunity—I set out to do a little eavesdropping. And it wasn’t hard. The couple across from me gave me plenty to think about…
“Six months at best,” she quietly sobbed. She blew her nose daintily into a crumpled tissue. “That was the last thing I ever expected him to say when he came in with the lab work…six months.”
“I know, dear,” he said, emotions lodged in his throat. “I know. But we’ll make the most of it; I promise.”
“What about the kids?” her voice cracked. “Even though they’re all grown, this will break their hearts. You know Christmas is their favorite time of the year, a time for family, a time for reminiscing…”
“Hush now,” he reached over and patted her hand. “We’ll make every day Christmas, we’ll make every day a holiday.”
The woman paused as the waitress set down the coffee mugs. With a wistful sigh, she unrolled her silverware from the linen napkin. The metal utensils’ clinked together before gently clunking onto the surface of the wooden table. She snapped the wrinkles out of her napkin and sighed again. “I guess we never know when our time is up, do we?”
“No,” he stirred his coffee. “But when you think about it, knowing is a gift. Now we can make time to do all the things we wanted to do and never had time for. So what would you like to do? I’ll take some time off work and we’ll make every day an adventure.”
“Travel,” her melodic laughter echoed through the room. “You promised to take me to Paris some day. I’d say some day is now, don’t ya think?”
“Paris in the spring,” he stirred his coffee again. His spoon rattled when he put it on the table. He cleared his throat. “We kept putting it off, thinking we had all the time in the world, the business, the kids…and now…”
“Shh…” she patted his hand. “We have six months and that’s a long time to make every day count.”
“You’re right; it’s a gift.”
“Let’s go home,” she said as Always and Forever played softly on the stereo. “Let’s leave nothing to chance.”
Their departure left footprints on my heart. I sniffed, emotions lodged in my chest. Six months to make every day count, I thought to myself. How often we put off today what we can do tomorrow. What would you do if you had six months to do something you put off doing?
How to Join the Writing Adventure Group
Cora Zane
Iain Martin
Christine Kirchoff
Nancy J Parra
Sharon Donovan
Nixy Valentine
Lulu
Jon Strother
Marsha Moore
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
WAG 5 writing assignment
“WAG #5: Life In Motion”
Sometimes it’s good to approach writing like taking a photograph with words. On
the other hand, it’s important to remember that a scene is always in transition.
For this week’s adventure, sit in a good observation spot and notice how the scene
in front of you changes from one minute to the next. Has the light changed? The sounds?
The people? What’s different now compared to when you first arrived? Is there anything
you can see (or hear, smell, etc) that is changing right in front of you? Be creative
So that’s the writing assignment for this week. Truer words were never spoken. Nothing is more consistent than change. Life is constantly in motion and if we don’t roll with it, we’ll be left behind. And I speak from experience. As many of you know, nine years ago I lost my vision after a long bout with progressive blindness. You wanna talk change?
I was a legal secretary, used to reading small print, typing orders for judges, preparing affidavits to establish child support payments. I spent my weekends horseback riding and painting, my passion. For two solid decades, my vision came and went. “Now you see it--now you don’t.” Life became a deadly game of hide and seek, fighting for my vision as well as my sanity. And after one final operation. Poof! Lights out…
Devastated, I enrolled in a sixteen week program for the blind and visually impaired where I was taught mobility, personal adjustment and the use of a computer with adaptive software—converting text into synthesized speech.
How could my life have come to this, I wondered, my first day at the rehab program. I sat glued to a chair, hands clenched so tight on the wooden arms my fingers went numb. I was afraid to move for fear of killing myself. There were steep cement steps all over the building. I visualized tumbling down those steps in slow motion, arms floundering, hysterical screams spewing from my mouth until I landed at the bottom with a heavy thud. Then I’d die a slow and tortuous death from a broken neck. Icy fingers of fear skittered down my spine. Crazy flashes raced helter skelter through my brain like a freight train out of control. Just as I was about to scream to escape these nightmarish scenes, I heard a loud tap followed by a hard smack on the wall, heavy footsteps and the unmistakable sound of a white cane sweeping the floor. And the footsteps vibrating off the wall were heading my way.
The next thing I knew my feet were stomped on, the cane thrashed across my legs and the footsteps came to a halt. “Did I step on someone?” his voice was loud, but what I perceived to be young.
“Ah…yeah,” I said, curling my still-smarting toes far under my chair.
“Sorry,” He said, picking up right where he left off, same ritual. Tap, hard smack on the wall, dragging of heavy footsteps, the swoosh of the cane sweeping across the floor. My stomach lurched. Is this what my life had come to? Would they do that to me? Make me use one of those dreaded white canes? I felt the walls closing in on me. No way could I accept such a life of isolation and segregation. No way.
But as the sixteen weeks passed, I learned to roll with the punches. Part of the reason I was reluctant to enroll in a program for the blind was because I thought clients would be uneducated. I was a professional after all. What could I possibly have in common with these people. I was wrong. They were ordinary people…with extraordinary people…just like me, thrust into circumstances beyond their control. I met doctors and teachers, paramedics and engineers. We bonded in a way words could never express. It was a challenging journey filled with heart-wrenching pain. We laughed and we cried. Through this program, I found the courage to move on. I learned what I was made of. What didn’t kill me made me stronger.
Sharon Donovan
Sometimes it’s good to approach writing like taking a photograph with words. On
the other hand, it’s important to remember that a scene is always in transition.
For this week’s adventure, sit in a good observation spot and notice how the scene
in front of you changes from one minute to the next. Has the light changed? The sounds?
The people? What’s different now compared to when you first arrived? Is there anything
you can see (or hear, smell, etc) that is changing right in front of you? Be creative
So that’s the writing assignment for this week. Truer words were never spoken. Nothing is more consistent than change. Life is constantly in motion and if we don’t roll with it, we’ll be left behind. And I speak from experience. As many of you know, nine years ago I lost my vision after a long bout with progressive blindness. You wanna talk change?
I was a legal secretary, used to reading small print, typing orders for judges, preparing affidavits to establish child support payments. I spent my weekends horseback riding and painting, my passion. For two solid decades, my vision came and went. “Now you see it--now you don’t.” Life became a deadly game of hide and seek, fighting for my vision as well as my sanity. And after one final operation. Poof! Lights out…
Devastated, I enrolled in a sixteen week program for the blind and visually impaired where I was taught mobility, personal adjustment and the use of a computer with adaptive software—converting text into synthesized speech.
How could my life have come to this, I wondered, my first day at the rehab program. I sat glued to a chair, hands clenched so tight on the wooden arms my fingers went numb. I was afraid to move for fear of killing myself. There were steep cement steps all over the building. I visualized tumbling down those steps in slow motion, arms floundering, hysterical screams spewing from my mouth until I landed at the bottom with a heavy thud. Then I’d die a slow and tortuous death from a broken neck. Icy fingers of fear skittered down my spine. Crazy flashes raced helter skelter through my brain like a freight train out of control. Just as I was about to scream to escape these nightmarish scenes, I heard a loud tap followed by a hard smack on the wall, heavy footsteps and the unmistakable sound of a white cane sweeping the floor. And the footsteps vibrating off the wall were heading my way.
The next thing I knew my feet were stomped on, the cane thrashed across my legs and the footsteps came to a halt. “Did I step on someone?” his voice was loud, but what I perceived to be young.
“Ah…yeah,” I said, curling my still-smarting toes far under my chair.
“Sorry,” He said, picking up right where he left off, same ritual. Tap, hard smack on the wall, dragging of heavy footsteps, the swoosh of the cane sweeping across the floor. My stomach lurched. Is this what my life had come to? Would they do that to me? Make me use one of those dreaded white canes? I felt the walls closing in on me. No way could I accept such a life of isolation and segregation. No way.
But as the sixteen weeks passed, I learned to roll with the punches. Part of the reason I was reluctant to enroll in a program for the blind was because I thought clients would be uneducated. I was a professional after all. What could I possibly have in common with these people. I was wrong. They were ordinary people…with extraordinary people…just like me, thrust into circumstances beyond their control. I met doctors and teachers, paramedics and engineers. We bonded in a way words could never express. It was a challenging journey filled with heart-wrenching pain. We laughed and we cried. Through this program, I found the courage to move on. I learned what I was made of. What didn’t kill me made me stronger.
Sharon Donovan
Monday, March 23, 2009
Do You Hear What I Hear?
A low wind swooshes through the undulating pines. Faint chimes in the distance, tinkle like shattered glass. Eerie silence, calm before the storm. Wind picks up, stirs the heady smell of dank earth with freshly budding roses. Tree limbs slap brick façade. Wind howls, white hot fury, chimes spin in a wild frenzy, steel blades slashing swords. Low rumble of thunder, high winds, whistle snakes through cavernous grounds. Rain drops plop on steel awning, strong wind ripples flag, flaps and billows with a snapping hiss. Wet air dank, rot and decay rise from soil, strong and pungent. Clouds open, sending pellets of rain crashing to earth. Thunder and lightning rage through the sky, fierce warriors slashing swords, colliding in battle, exploding into sonic boom. And The Master reigns. The elements of earth, wind and fire in all their glory.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Lasting Love released today
Hi Friends and Roses!
I’m so thrilled to announce the release of Lasting Love today!
It’s an Easter story. Here’s a brief blurb and excerpt and a peek at the trailer!
When Vermont florist Abbey Jordan’s nursery manager quits a few days before Easter, she is left up the proverbial creek without a paddle. But when she places it in God’s hands, she finds lasting love in a garden of roses.
Brady Jones has a daughter to raise, is out of work, and knows more about cultivating roses than anyone in rural Vermont. And when Abbey hires him as the horticultural manager of her floral shop, it seems like the answer to her prayers. But just on the brink of a budding romance, a fire destroys the nursery and buries all hope of love.
An amicable silence hovered between Abbey and
Brady as they walked toward the restaurant hand in
hand. They knew they’d just crossed a major
milestone. The quiet was broken by Abbey’s cell
phone. Annoyed at the interruption, she sighed and
answered. It was one of her employees. “Come quick,
Abbey. It’s the nursery. There’s a fire. It’s spreading
like wildfire. Things look bad. Get here soon.”
****
When Abbey and Brady reached the nursery, it
was a burning inferno. The glass walls had collapsed
and it was going up in a snarling hiss of smoke and
flames. Firefighters struggled to get the blaze under
control. Police and paramedics had arrived and Eye
Witness News was on the scene, snapping photos.
“Oh my!” Abbey was out of the car the minute it
came to a screeching halt. Her face was as ashen as
the thick clouds of smoke billowing up into the night
sky. Tripping over the gravel and cinders as she
rushed toward the fire chief, she screamed. “What
happened? I’m Abigail Jordan and I own this
nursery. What happened? When I left, everything
was fine. Please tell me nobody was in there!”
“No one was in there,” the fire chief placed a
hand on her shoulder. “Things could be a lot worse.
Dead plants can be replaced. People can’t.”
Riveted with shock as reality filtered through
her, Abbey screamed, “My roses! All my precious
roses. All those hanging baskets of lavender. My
exotic orchids and Easter lilies. Gone, all gone!”
“It’s all right,” Brady folded her into his arms.
“Shh.”
“What started it?” Abbey stared at the fire chief.
“How did it start?”
“It’s being investigated. At this time, the cause
is unknown. Could be a gas leak. A neighbor
reported hearing an explosion, and in a few minutes,
your greenhouse went up like a house of cards.”
In less than an hour, the fire was under control,
but all that remained of Abbey’s nursery was a bed
of ash. The floral boutique across the covered bridge
was unharmed but the rest of the damage caused by
the fire was insurmountable.
“Do you have any idea how long it took me to
choose and cultivate each of my prize roses?” Abbey
finally let the tears roll. Leaning on Brady, she
sobbed in between hysterics. “My Lasting Love rose,
demolished. And to think I’ll never smell the spicy
aroma of my Sentimental rose again. And at prom
time, I never had enough of the Falling in Love rose.
They all wanted a corsage made of the pink roses,
timeless and romantic. And not to forget the Arctic
Flame rose, popular for keeping the romance alive.
All my hard work, up in smoke.”
“Ms. Jordan,” the fire chief interrupted. “We
know the cause of the fire. It was caused by a
recently installed heating table. Some of the cable
wiring possibly touched each other due to improper
installation.”
Abbey shoved Brady away and stared at him,
her eyes glinting with anger. “It was you. You said
you knew how to install the heating table and I
listened to you. You ruined my dream. Get away
from me.”
“Abbey,” he tried to reach her. “There’s gotta be
some mistake. Let me—”
“There was a mistake all right,” Abbey hissed.
“Hiring you and trusting you with my roses. Get out
of here and never come back. I never want to see you
again.”
****
On Easter morning, Abbey pulled up to her
floral shop, her heart heavy with grief. Feeling as if
she had the weight of the world on her shoulders,
she crossed the bridge to where her garden nursery
had been. Even before she got there, the thick scent
of smoke lingered, a pungent reminder of what had
happened the night before.
She wanted the world to stop spinning. How
could Brady have been so careless? How could she
have been stupid enough to trust him? Somewhere
deep in her subconscious, she knew she should have
had an electrician install the heating table. So why
hadn’t she listened? Because she’d been attracted to
him and had been well on her way to falling in love
with him. She recalled how infatuated she’d been
only yesterday when she watched him touch the
roses with such tenderness. And the kiss they’d
shared last night. Tears spilled down her face at the
memory.
She kicked her foot in the rubble and screamed
at the top of her lungs. Sobs ripped through her until
she couldn’t breathe. On Easter morning of all
mornings, a time of rebirth and resurrection.
Hurling herself on the bed of ashes where her
nursery had been, she kicked and screamed, not
caring if the world came crashing down on top of her.
Hearing footsteps behind her, she looked up and
gasped.
An old man with flowing white hair stood over
her, his gnarled body stiff and bent. He poked at her
with his walking stick. “Get up, girlie,” he
commanded. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Who are you?” Abbey stood up and backed
away. Other than the birds, there was no one
around. She reached for her cell phone, only to
remember it was in her purse in the car. Her heart
pounded with adrenaline. “Who are you and where
did you come from?”
“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help.”
Abbey started across the bridge. She wanted to
get far away from this nut. Who was he?
“Stop.”
Available now!
www.thewildrosepress.com
www.whiterosepublishing.com
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG1q0VWfD60
Sharon Donovan
Romantic Suspense with a Twist of Faith
www.sharonadonovan.com
sharonad@comcast.net
Lasting Love
An Easter story
www.thewildrosepress
www.whiterosepublishing.com
I’m so thrilled to announce the release of Lasting Love today!
It’s an Easter story. Here’s a brief blurb and excerpt and a peek at the trailer!
When Vermont florist Abbey Jordan’s nursery manager quits a few days before Easter, she is left up the proverbial creek without a paddle. But when she places it in God’s hands, she finds lasting love in a garden of roses.
Brady Jones has a daughter to raise, is out of work, and knows more about cultivating roses than anyone in rural Vermont. And when Abbey hires him as the horticultural manager of her floral shop, it seems like the answer to her prayers. But just on the brink of a budding romance, a fire destroys the nursery and buries all hope of love.
An amicable silence hovered between Abbey and
Brady as they walked toward the restaurant hand in
hand. They knew they’d just crossed a major
milestone. The quiet was broken by Abbey’s cell
phone. Annoyed at the interruption, she sighed and
answered. It was one of her employees. “Come quick,
Abbey. It’s the nursery. There’s a fire. It’s spreading
like wildfire. Things look bad. Get here soon.”
****
When Abbey and Brady reached the nursery, it
was a burning inferno. The glass walls had collapsed
and it was going up in a snarling hiss of smoke and
flames. Firefighters struggled to get the blaze under
control. Police and paramedics had arrived and Eye
Witness News was on the scene, snapping photos.
“Oh my!” Abbey was out of the car the minute it
came to a screeching halt. Her face was as ashen as
the thick clouds of smoke billowing up into the night
sky. Tripping over the gravel and cinders as she
rushed toward the fire chief, she screamed. “What
happened? I’m Abigail Jordan and I own this
nursery. What happened? When I left, everything
was fine. Please tell me nobody was in there!”
“No one was in there,” the fire chief placed a
hand on her shoulder. “Things could be a lot worse.
Dead plants can be replaced. People can’t.”
Riveted with shock as reality filtered through
her, Abbey screamed, “My roses! All my precious
roses. All those hanging baskets of lavender. My
exotic orchids and Easter lilies. Gone, all gone!”
“It’s all right,” Brady folded her into his arms.
“Shh.”
“What started it?” Abbey stared at the fire chief.
“How did it start?”
“It’s being investigated. At this time, the cause
is unknown. Could be a gas leak. A neighbor
reported hearing an explosion, and in a few minutes,
your greenhouse went up like a house of cards.”
In less than an hour, the fire was under control,
but all that remained of Abbey’s nursery was a bed
of ash. The floral boutique across the covered bridge
was unharmed but the rest of the damage caused by
the fire was insurmountable.
“Do you have any idea how long it took me to
choose and cultivate each of my prize roses?” Abbey
finally let the tears roll. Leaning on Brady, she
sobbed in between hysterics. “My Lasting Love rose,
demolished. And to think I’ll never smell the spicy
aroma of my Sentimental rose again. And at prom
time, I never had enough of the Falling in Love rose.
They all wanted a corsage made of the pink roses,
timeless and romantic. And not to forget the Arctic
Flame rose, popular for keeping the romance alive.
All my hard work, up in smoke.”
“Ms. Jordan,” the fire chief interrupted. “We
know the cause of the fire. It was caused by a
recently installed heating table. Some of the cable
wiring possibly touched each other due to improper
installation.”
Abbey shoved Brady away and stared at him,
her eyes glinting with anger. “It was you. You said
you knew how to install the heating table and I
listened to you. You ruined my dream. Get away
from me.”
“Abbey,” he tried to reach her. “There’s gotta be
some mistake. Let me—”
“There was a mistake all right,” Abbey hissed.
“Hiring you and trusting you with my roses. Get out
of here and never come back. I never want to see you
again.”
****
On Easter morning, Abbey pulled up to her
floral shop, her heart heavy with grief. Feeling as if
she had the weight of the world on her shoulders,
she crossed the bridge to where her garden nursery
had been. Even before she got there, the thick scent
of smoke lingered, a pungent reminder of what had
happened the night before.
She wanted the world to stop spinning. How
could Brady have been so careless? How could she
have been stupid enough to trust him? Somewhere
deep in her subconscious, she knew she should have
had an electrician install the heating table. So why
hadn’t she listened? Because she’d been attracted to
him and had been well on her way to falling in love
with him. She recalled how infatuated she’d been
only yesterday when she watched him touch the
roses with such tenderness. And the kiss they’d
shared last night. Tears spilled down her face at the
memory.
She kicked her foot in the rubble and screamed
at the top of her lungs. Sobs ripped through her until
she couldn’t breathe. On Easter morning of all
mornings, a time of rebirth and resurrection.
Hurling herself on the bed of ashes where her
nursery had been, she kicked and screamed, not
caring if the world came crashing down on top of her.
Hearing footsteps behind her, she looked up and
gasped.
An old man with flowing white hair stood over
her, his gnarled body stiff and bent. He poked at her
with his walking stick. “Get up, girlie,” he
commanded. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Who are you?” Abbey stood up and backed
away. Other than the birds, there was no one
around. She reached for her cell phone, only to
remember it was in her purse in the car. Her heart
pounded with adrenaline. “Who are you and where
did you come from?”
“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help.”
Abbey started across the bridge. She wanted to
get far away from this nut. Who was he?
“Stop.”
Available now!
www.thewildrosepress.com
www.whiterosepublishing.com
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG1q0VWfD60
Sharon Donovan
Romantic Suspense with a Twist of Faith
www.sharonadonovan.com
sharonad@comcast.net
Lasting Love
An Easter story
www.thewildrosepress
www.whiterosepublishing.com
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Lucky Shamrock Contest
Top o’ the mornin’ Friends and Roses!
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! To kick off White Rose Publishing, the White Roses are having a Lucky Shamrock contest today at
http://whiterosesinbloom.blogspot.com
For a chance to win a “Pot o eBooks” come on over and answer one simple question. May the wink and blessings of St. Patrick be with you. Happty St. Patty’s Day!
Sharon Donovan
Romantic Suspense with a Twist of Faith
www.sharonadonovan.com
sharonad@comcast.net
The Claddagh Ring
A St. Patrick’s Day story
On sale this month
www.thewildrosepress.com
Lasting Love
An Easter story
www.thewildrosepress.com
www.whiterosepublishing.com
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! To kick off White Rose Publishing, the White Roses are having a Lucky Shamrock contest today at
http://whiterosesinbloom.blogspot.com
For a chance to win a “Pot o eBooks” come on over and answer one simple question. May the wink and blessings of St. Patrick be with you. Happty St. Patty’s Day!
Sharon Donovan
Romantic Suspense with a Twist of Faith
www.sharonadonovan.com
sharonad@comcast.net
The Claddagh Ring
A St. Patrick’s Day story
On sale this month
www.thewildrosepress.com
Lasting Love
An Easter story
www.thewildrosepress.com
www.whiterosepublishing.com
Monday, March 2, 2009
Winter Madness with Award-winning Author Pamela S. Thibodeaux
Author Bio: Award-winning author, Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana an a member of White Roses in Bloom Authors. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, “Inspirational with an Edge!” and reviewed as “steamier and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.”
Website address: http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com
Blog: http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com
WRIB Blog: http://whiterosesinbloom.blogspot.com
Today I am interviewing fellow white rose and friend Pamela S. Thibodaux about her latest release WINTER MADNESS.
Welcome, Pam. Could you tell us a little about this story, the characters, the setting, the theme? Hi Sharon! Thank you for having me here today. WINTER MADNESS started with a couple meeting up in a coffee shop on a cold, winter morning. She thinks the first snow is beautiful, he thinks its madness.
Now in your blurb for Winter Madness, you mention an instant attraction between an optimist and a pessimist. There’s an old saying that opposites attract. What are your views on this old cliché and do you speak from personal experience? I believe opposites do attract though that’s not always fodder for a great relationship. My husband and I have A LOT in common and enjoy many of the same things which makes for much more harmony in the house.
I know what a busy woman you are and have often wondered where you find the time to write. Do you set aside a block of time reserved for writing—or do you write when you can find the time? I am a morning person so early am tends to be my most creative time. When I’m actively writing I use that time to write. If I’m not working on anything in particular, I use that time to promote. I also have a few hours in the evenings and on weekends, but basically I follow this same pattern to get things done.
The first thing I thought of when I heard the title of your latest release was March Madness. Did this have any bearing in choosing Winter Madness as your title? No, not really. In the beginning I had the idea for a book of 7 short stories, the 4 seasons + holidays (Christmas, Valentines Day & Thanksgiving). Then when the hero, William appeared on the scene and turned everything Sienna said was lovely or exciting into ‘madness,’ the title just seemed to work. The fact that it is being released in March with the ‘March Madness’ thing is merely coincidence as it was either a March release or wait until winter 2009. I chose March.
What is your favorite season and why? I am definitely a summer person but my favorite Holiday Season is Christmas – people just seem to be a lot more willing to share goodwill during this time of year.
Coffee shops are very popular places in today’s world for meetings, socializing, and for sampling a new cappuccino while lolling over a new book. Do you like coffee and if so, do you have a preference? I LOVE coffee. My preference is strong and hot - just like I like my men LOL! Seriously, I drink my coffee black, no cream or sugar. Now, when I want a treat – I’ll indulge in a French vanilla/caramel latte.
How do you promote your books? Any and every way I can think of. I blog, do chats and interviews, contests, and sales, like my March Madness sale going on right now! For info on the sale check out My Website or Pertinent Promotions website.
What is the message you would like readers to walk away with after reading Winter Madness? That no matter what you are going through, there is ALWAYS hope. Not the kind you find in drugs, alcohol or other vices, but in a relationship with Jesus Christ. And, that there ARE people who truly live what they say they believe.
How would you like to be remembered after you leave this earth? As a kind, generous person, someone who gives a lot of herself to help others and as a good wife/mother/grandmother, an anointed writer, but MOST IMPORTANTLY, a faithful servant of Christ.
Do you have a favorite quote you’d like to share with us? In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths….Prov. 3:6
Where can readers reach you? Website: http://pamelathibodeaux.com Blog: http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com Email: pthib-7@centurytel.net
Is there anything you’d like to add to this interview? Something you wish I might have asked? Nope, you’ve about covered it all – very well I might add. I do however want to take this opportunity to THANK my readers for their continued love and support and THANK GOD for His unconditional love and blessings in my life. May I ALWAYS glorify You, Lord in all that I do.
Thanks so much for joining me today on my blog, Pam! Good luck with sales on Winter Madness!
Thanks again, Sharon for having me and may God bless YOU with sales on your books.
Website address: http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com
Blog: http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com
WRIB Blog: http://whiterosesinbloom.blogspot.com
Today I am interviewing fellow white rose and friend Pamela S. Thibodaux about her latest release WINTER MADNESS.
Welcome, Pam. Could you tell us a little about this story, the characters, the setting, the theme? Hi Sharon! Thank you for having me here today. WINTER MADNESS started with a couple meeting up in a coffee shop on a cold, winter morning. She thinks the first snow is beautiful, he thinks its madness.
Now in your blurb for Winter Madness, you mention an instant attraction between an optimist and a pessimist. There’s an old saying that opposites attract. What are your views on this old cliché and do you speak from personal experience? I believe opposites do attract though that’s not always fodder for a great relationship. My husband and I have A LOT in common and enjoy many of the same things which makes for much more harmony in the house.
I know what a busy woman you are and have often wondered where you find the time to write. Do you set aside a block of time reserved for writing—or do you write when you can find the time? I am a morning person so early am tends to be my most creative time. When I’m actively writing I use that time to write. If I’m not working on anything in particular, I use that time to promote. I also have a few hours in the evenings and on weekends, but basically I follow this same pattern to get things done.
The first thing I thought of when I heard the title of your latest release was March Madness. Did this have any bearing in choosing Winter Madness as your title? No, not really. In the beginning I had the idea for a book of 7 short stories, the 4 seasons + holidays (Christmas, Valentines Day & Thanksgiving). Then when the hero, William appeared on the scene and turned everything Sienna said was lovely or exciting into ‘madness,’ the title just seemed to work. The fact that it is being released in March with the ‘March Madness’ thing is merely coincidence as it was either a March release or wait until winter 2009. I chose March.
What is your favorite season and why? I am definitely a summer person but my favorite Holiday Season is Christmas – people just seem to be a lot more willing to share goodwill during this time of year.
Coffee shops are very popular places in today’s world for meetings, socializing, and for sampling a new cappuccino while lolling over a new book. Do you like coffee and if so, do you have a preference? I LOVE coffee. My preference is strong and hot - just like I like my men LOL! Seriously, I drink my coffee black, no cream or sugar. Now, when I want a treat – I’ll indulge in a French vanilla/caramel latte.
How do you promote your books? Any and every way I can think of. I blog, do chats and interviews, contests, and sales, like my March Madness sale going on right now! For info on the sale check out My Website or Pertinent Promotions website.
What is the message you would like readers to walk away with after reading Winter Madness? That no matter what you are going through, there is ALWAYS hope. Not the kind you find in drugs, alcohol or other vices, but in a relationship with Jesus Christ. And, that there ARE people who truly live what they say they believe.
How would you like to be remembered after you leave this earth? As a kind, generous person, someone who gives a lot of herself to help others and as a good wife/mother/grandmother, an anointed writer, but MOST IMPORTANTLY, a faithful servant of Christ.
Do you have a favorite quote you’d like to share with us? In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths….Prov. 3:6
Where can readers reach you? Website: http://pamelathibodeaux.com Blog: http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com Email: pthib-7@centurytel.net
Is there anything you’d like to add to this interview? Something you wish I might have asked? Nope, you’ve about covered it all – very well I might add. I do however want to take this opportunity to THANK my readers for their continued love and support and THANK GOD for His unconditional love and blessings in my life. May I ALWAYS glorify You, Lord in all that I do.
Thanks so much for joining me today on my blog, Pam! Good luck with sales on Winter Madness!
Thanks again, Sharon for having me and may God bless YOU with sales on your books.
Happy St. Patrick's Day
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
The Irish are notorious for spinning a wee tale or two when it comes to legend and lore. And being Irish, I’ve been known to weave a little extra yarn into a story for a dash of color. Humor is the spice of life. Regaling over age old legends in front of a roaring fire with a cup o’ tea or Irish coffee keeps tradition alive from generation to generation. Some of the things associated with St. Patrick’s Day are the wearing of the green, shamrocks and pots of gold—and who could forget the mischievous leprechaun?
St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated on March 17th. And if there’s one thing we can count on, it’s the spinning of favorite myths while regaling the day. Here are a few fables we can count on:
THE WEARING OF THE GREEN
Green shamrocks, green t-shirts, green party hats, green beer, green everything!
The color green in any form on March 17th will bring good luck.
But as much fun as we have with the color green on St. Paddy’s Day, the deepest origin represents the coming of spring when the earth is reborn with new grass, budding trees and flowers after a long, harsh winter.
THE SHAMROCK
Wear a shamrock on your left lapel and you will be blessed all year with the wink of St. Patrick himself
This is fun and we all partake in it, but the true meaning of the shamrock, the three-leaf flower of Ireland, was used by St. Patrick to demonstrate the Trinity.
THE SHILLELAGH
Shake this stick and ward off bad luck and evil spirits
All fun and games aside, this club was used by the ancient Druids and thought to have the ability to shake it at the dead and bring them back to life.
CROCK OF GOLD
Associated with the wee folk stealing the pot of gold and hiding it—and finding it over the rainbow.
But the pot of gold is associated with the goddess Cerridwen, worshiped by the Druids. And when Cerridwen’s gold was stolen and transported from Irish soil to Britain soil, it was gone but never forgotten.
LEPRECHAUN
Spot a wee cobbler on St. Patrick’s Day and good fortune will befall. Rub the belly of a leprechaun on St. Paddy’s Day and you will come into great wealth and fortune. Trick a leprechaun and steal his lucky charms and riches will bestow.
But in reality, the leprechauns were wee gods, mean little creatures with shaggy red beards, tart mouths, born with the ability to steal a pot of gold in the blink of an eye and never get caught. It is believed the leprechauns stole Cerridwen’s gold.
ST. PATRICK BANISHING SNAKES OUT OF IRELAND
We’ve all heard the one about St. Patrick standing atop the Croagh Patrick and shaking a stick at the snakes, sending them all into the sea.
In reality, there were never any snakes in Ireland. Snakes are associated with evil Druids and black magic. The fable of St. Patrick chasing all the snakes out of Ireland refers to his chasing the Druids out and spreading Christianity throughout the land.
And that’s what St. Patrick’s Day represents, bringing Christianity to a land ruled by ancient gods and druids. And the man responsible for doing this is St. Patrick, born Magonus Sccatus, later christened Patricus Thought to be born in either Scotland or Great Britain, Patrick was kidnapped by pirates and sold to a sheep herder in Ireland where he was held in captivity for six years. But one night he escaped by boat, returning to his homeland. But deeply haunted by some of the things he’d witnessed in Ireland, human sacrifices made to ancient gods, many of which were children, Patrick returned to Ireland as a missionary where he lived until his death. And because of the tireless efforts of one man spreading the word of God despite the risk of persecution, Patrick won the war when he drove the druids out of Ireland.
A few years ago I was fortunate enough to visit Ireland, the home of my ancestry. The Emerald Isle is truly an enchanting land, rich in culture and tradition. Whimsical castles loom high above heathery mountains and rocky headlands, giving way to green rolling hills and long stretches of coppery beaches. And with the sheep grazing high on the hillsides of the misty mountains, it’s like stepping back in time.
A lot of writers come from Ireland, including James Joyce, George Bernard Shaw and Oscar Wilde. With its green hills and rugged landscape, major movies have been filmed here. The Irish take great pride in pointing out the farmhouse on the Dingle Peninsula where Ryan’s Daughter was filmed. Inch Strand Beach, shaped like a sandy half moon, is one of the most remote areas of the island. But the best part of the trip was learning the significance of The Claddag, which has an ancient history dating back three hundred years.
According to legend, the first Claddagh Ring originated in a small fishing port off the coast of Galway. Truly a land of legend and lore, the Irish are known to spin a wee bit of the “Blarney” from time to time. Some say the original Claddagh Ring was blessed by St. Patrick himself. Others believe the first ring was dropped into the lap of a woman by an eagle. And others say the original ring was brought back to Galway by a man who was captured by the Algerians and sold to a Moorish goldsmith.
But whatever the case, the tradition of The Claddah has lived on for the past several centuries. And in today’s materialistic world where love and friendship are taken far too lightly, the significance of The Claddagh Ring has strengthened.
The Claddagh is said to bring eternal love and lasting friendship to its wearer. The design consists of two hands holding a heart and a crown on top of the heart. The heart represents love, the hands friendship—and the crown designates loyalty. But in order for the ring to cast its mystical spell, it needs to be worn in a certain way.
If worn on the right hand with the heart facing outward, this means the heart is open to love. If worn on the left hand with the heart facing outward, it means the wearer is taken. But when the ring is worn on the left hand with the heart facing inward, the wearer has found true love for all eternity and will be forever blessed.
Being part Irish, I was born with a superstitious nature. Totally awed by this legend, I was inspired to write The Claddagh Ring, a White Rose rosette of 34 pages. Because I had the pleasure of touring the Atlantic Breakers and the Cliffs of Moher, part of my book takes place in County Clare.
The Atlantic Breakers pound the west coast of the county, sculpting the grey limestone into a myriad of shapes, the most notorious the Cliffs of Moher. A rich plethora of birdlife as puffins and shags dominate these rugged cliffs, adding to the savage grandeur. Beneath the rocks, the waves have spread a thin dusting of golden sand, said to be sprinkled by angel wings. Standing on these cliffs with the wind at my back and the sun on my face, I truly enjoyed writing The Claddagh Ring. Here is a blurb and excerpt.
“To live in the hearts we leave behind is to never die.”
Thomas Campbell
Struggling with her faith after her mother’s death, Meghan O’Malley finds comfort in wearing her Claddagh Ring, said to be blessed by St. Patrick. And when Meghan meets Rork, she finds love, loyalty and friendship. But before everything comes full circle, Meghan must face the biggest challenge of her life.
Rork McGuire is ruggedly handsome, sings Celtic music straight from his soul—and has a deep secret. When he sees Meghan O’Malley tending bar at her club, he falls hopelessly in love with her and wants to give her his heart. Will the secret he harbors pull them together—or break them apart?
Excerpt
As Meghan mixed drinks from behind the bar of The Wild Irish Rose, the fiddle and violin captured the true essence of Ireland. The tantalizing aroma of Irish stew, corn beef and cabbage and Irish soda bread wafted through the room.
Suddenly, all activity came to a halt as the eerie wail of bagpipes keened through the bar. The lead singer took center stage with his rendition of Danny Boy, the haunting lyrics crawling into Meghan’s skin. Mesmerized by his hypnotic blue eyes, she stopped what she was doing and met his penetrating gaze. With the exception of her mother, she’d never heard anyone pluck the strings of the harp with such finesse. The Claddagh Ring on her right hand felt hot, the heart pressing into her skin. By the time the song ended, Meghan’s green eyes were misty with tears.
“Well now, darlin’,” he touched her cheek. “If I knew Danny Boy would make you cry, I’d a sung When Irish Eyes are Smiling.”
Meghan Shannon O’Malley lost herself in pools of midnight blue.
“I’m Rork,” the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He took her right hand and kissed the heart on her ring. “Single and looking, are ya?”
“Huh?”
“The Claddagh Ring, darlin’,” he kissed it again. “On your right hand with the heart facing outward, means you’re single and looking for romance.”
“Ah…I have no idea what you’re talking about; it’s just a ring, a gift from my mother.”
“Ah, come on now, darlin’ girl,” he got a little closer, staring into her eyes. “Ya can’t fool an Irishman. My mother bought one for each of my sisters. I’ll have ya know they’re all married.”
Meghan felt lightheaded. “My mother gave me this ring the night before she died. It’s a family heirloom, said to be blessed by St. Patrick himself. Mama promised me by wearing the Claddagh, everything in my life would come full circle. So before you go thinking I’m wearing it to find a husband, think again.”
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” his blue eyes seared into hers like lasers. “What do ya say, Meghan, darlin’ girl of my heart.”
The Claddagh Ring Available Now!
www.thewildrosepress.com
To see the book trailer, visit my website:
www.sharonadonovan.comm
CLADDAGH RING CONTEST
February 25-March 17
Visit my website for contest rules
Winner to be announced St. Patrick’s Day!
And will receive…
A CLADDAGH RING!
The Irish are notorious for spinning a wee tale or two when it comes to legend and lore. And being Irish, I’ve been known to weave a little extra yarn into a story for a dash of color. Humor is the spice of life. Regaling over age old legends in front of a roaring fire with a cup o’ tea or Irish coffee keeps tradition alive from generation to generation. Some of the things associated with St. Patrick’s Day are the wearing of the green, shamrocks and pots of gold—and who could forget the mischievous leprechaun?
St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated on March 17th. And if there’s one thing we can count on, it’s the spinning of favorite myths while regaling the day. Here are a few fables we can count on:
THE WEARING OF THE GREEN
Green shamrocks, green t-shirts, green party hats, green beer, green everything!
The color green in any form on March 17th will bring good luck.
But as much fun as we have with the color green on St. Paddy’s Day, the deepest origin represents the coming of spring when the earth is reborn with new grass, budding trees and flowers after a long, harsh winter.
THE SHAMROCK
Wear a shamrock on your left lapel and you will be blessed all year with the wink of St. Patrick himself
This is fun and we all partake in it, but the true meaning of the shamrock, the three-leaf flower of Ireland, was used by St. Patrick to demonstrate the Trinity.
THE SHILLELAGH
Shake this stick and ward off bad luck and evil spirits
All fun and games aside, this club was used by the ancient Druids and thought to have the ability to shake it at the dead and bring them back to life.
CROCK OF GOLD
Associated with the wee folk stealing the pot of gold and hiding it—and finding it over the rainbow.
But the pot of gold is associated with the goddess Cerridwen, worshiped by the Druids. And when Cerridwen’s gold was stolen and transported from Irish soil to Britain soil, it was gone but never forgotten.
LEPRECHAUN
Spot a wee cobbler on St. Patrick’s Day and good fortune will befall. Rub the belly of a leprechaun on St. Paddy’s Day and you will come into great wealth and fortune. Trick a leprechaun and steal his lucky charms and riches will bestow.
But in reality, the leprechauns were wee gods, mean little creatures with shaggy red beards, tart mouths, born with the ability to steal a pot of gold in the blink of an eye and never get caught. It is believed the leprechauns stole Cerridwen’s gold.
ST. PATRICK BANISHING SNAKES OUT OF IRELAND
We’ve all heard the one about St. Patrick standing atop the Croagh Patrick and shaking a stick at the snakes, sending them all into the sea.
In reality, there were never any snakes in Ireland. Snakes are associated with evil Druids and black magic. The fable of St. Patrick chasing all the snakes out of Ireland refers to his chasing the Druids out and spreading Christianity throughout the land.
And that’s what St. Patrick’s Day represents, bringing Christianity to a land ruled by ancient gods and druids. And the man responsible for doing this is St. Patrick, born Magonus Sccatus, later christened Patricus Thought to be born in either Scotland or Great Britain, Patrick was kidnapped by pirates and sold to a sheep herder in Ireland where he was held in captivity for six years. But one night he escaped by boat, returning to his homeland. But deeply haunted by some of the things he’d witnessed in Ireland, human sacrifices made to ancient gods, many of which were children, Patrick returned to Ireland as a missionary where he lived until his death. And because of the tireless efforts of one man spreading the word of God despite the risk of persecution, Patrick won the war when he drove the druids out of Ireland.
A few years ago I was fortunate enough to visit Ireland, the home of my ancestry. The Emerald Isle is truly an enchanting land, rich in culture and tradition. Whimsical castles loom high above heathery mountains and rocky headlands, giving way to green rolling hills and long stretches of coppery beaches. And with the sheep grazing high on the hillsides of the misty mountains, it’s like stepping back in time.
A lot of writers come from Ireland, including James Joyce, George Bernard Shaw and Oscar Wilde. With its green hills and rugged landscape, major movies have been filmed here. The Irish take great pride in pointing out the farmhouse on the Dingle Peninsula where Ryan’s Daughter was filmed. Inch Strand Beach, shaped like a sandy half moon, is one of the most remote areas of the island. But the best part of the trip was learning the significance of The Claddag, which has an ancient history dating back three hundred years.
According to legend, the first Claddagh Ring originated in a small fishing port off the coast of Galway. Truly a land of legend and lore, the Irish are known to spin a wee bit of the “Blarney” from time to time. Some say the original Claddagh Ring was blessed by St. Patrick himself. Others believe the first ring was dropped into the lap of a woman by an eagle. And others say the original ring was brought back to Galway by a man who was captured by the Algerians and sold to a Moorish goldsmith.
But whatever the case, the tradition of The Claddah has lived on for the past several centuries. And in today’s materialistic world where love and friendship are taken far too lightly, the significance of The Claddagh Ring has strengthened.
The Claddagh is said to bring eternal love and lasting friendship to its wearer. The design consists of two hands holding a heart and a crown on top of the heart. The heart represents love, the hands friendship—and the crown designates loyalty. But in order for the ring to cast its mystical spell, it needs to be worn in a certain way.
If worn on the right hand with the heart facing outward, this means the heart is open to love. If worn on the left hand with the heart facing outward, it means the wearer is taken. But when the ring is worn on the left hand with the heart facing inward, the wearer has found true love for all eternity and will be forever blessed.
Being part Irish, I was born with a superstitious nature. Totally awed by this legend, I was inspired to write The Claddagh Ring, a White Rose rosette of 34 pages. Because I had the pleasure of touring the Atlantic Breakers and the Cliffs of Moher, part of my book takes place in County Clare.
The Atlantic Breakers pound the west coast of the county, sculpting the grey limestone into a myriad of shapes, the most notorious the Cliffs of Moher. A rich plethora of birdlife as puffins and shags dominate these rugged cliffs, adding to the savage grandeur. Beneath the rocks, the waves have spread a thin dusting of golden sand, said to be sprinkled by angel wings. Standing on these cliffs with the wind at my back and the sun on my face, I truly enjoyed writing The Claddagh Ring. Here is a blurb and excerpt.
“To live in the hearts we leave behind is to never die.”
Thomas Campbell
Struggling with her faith after her mother’s death, Meghan O’Malley finds comfort in wearing her Claddagh Ring, said to be blessed by St. Patrick. And when Meghan meets Rork, she finds love, loyalty and friendship. But before everything comes full circle, Meghan must face the biggest challenge of her life.
Rork McGuire is ruggedly handsome, sings Celtic music straight from his soul—and has a deep secret. When he sees Meghan O’Malley tending bar at her club, he falls hopelessly in love with her and wants to give her his heart. Will the secret he harbors pull them together—or break them apart?
Excerpt
As Meghan mixed drinks from behind the bar of The Wild Irish Rose, the fiddle and violin captured the true essence of Ireland. The tantalizing aroma of Irish stew, corn beef and cabbage and Irish soda bread wafted through the room.
Suddenly, all activity came to a halt as the eerie wail of bagpipes keened through the bar. The lead singer took center stage with his rendition of Danny Boy, the haunting lyrics crawling into Meghan’s skin. Mesmerized by his hypnotic blue eyes, she stopped what she was doing and met his penetrating gaze. With the exception of her mother, she’d never heard anyone pluck the strings of the harp with such finesse. The Claddagh Ring on her right hand felt hot, the heart pressing into her skin. By the time the song ended, Meghan’s green eyes were misty with tears.
“Well now, darlin’,” he touched her cheek. “If I knew Danny Boy would make you cry, I’d a sung When Irish Eyes are Smiling.”
Meghan Shannon O’Malley lost herself in pools of midnight blue.
“I’m Rork,” the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He took her right hand and kissed the heart on her ring. “Single and looking, are ya?”
“Huh?”
“The Claddagh Ring, darlin’,” he kissed it again. “On your right hand with the heart facing outward, means you’re single and looking for romance.”
“Ah…I have no idea what you’re talking about; it’s just a ring, a gift from my mother.”
“Ah, come on now, darlin’ girl,” he got a little closer, staring into her eyes. “Ya can’t fool an Irishman. My mother bought one for each of my sisters. I’ll have ya know they’re all married.”
Meghan felt lightheaded. “My mother gave me this ring the night before she died. It’s a family heirloom, said to be blessed by St. Patrick himself. Mama promised me by wearing the Claddagh, everything in my life would come full circle. So before you go thinking I’m wearing it to find a husband, think again.”
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” his blue eyes seared into hers like lasers. “What do ya say, Meghan, darlin’ girl of my heart.”
The Claddagh Ring Available Now!
www.thewildrosepress.com
To see the book trailer, visit my website:
www.sharonadonovan.comm
CLADDAGH RING CONTEST
February 25-March 17
Visit my website for contest rules
Winner to be announced St. Patrick’s Day!
And will receive…
A CLADDAGH RING!
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