...what can I say, I'm surviving.  

Crawling out of these sheets to see another day. 

"The Wedge..."   

El

 

"Funny...you're the broken one, but I'm the one that needs saving..."

"The Wedge"

El

...To A Dear Friend

It's been a month since your journey ended, and still we mourn.

We rescued you from a puppy mill tucked away along a wooded and blossoming hillside in North Carolina.  You were the strongest young stud in the litter.  Boasting a broad chest and knobby knees shaped like small fists, your future appeared bright. During your first visit to the local vet however, we were offered a laundry list of future issues.

"Care for him.  Love him.  Hold him close and you'll get eight years...ten if you're lucky."

We loved you.  We watched you grow.  We cared for your ills.  

And you gave us fifteen years.

We were a young family back then.  There were grade school holiday concerts, baseballs launched from tees, trick or treating in small towns littered with billowing leaves turned a million different shades of autumn.  

Baseballs matured to football helmets, voices deepened, there were first jobs at the local grocery store, teenagers with faces buried in cell phones. 

And through it all, you were there, at our side, adapting to whatever obstacle we took on without complaint.

Your trust in us never wavered.  We made mistakes along the way, choices made that we'll always regret.  Yet you forgave us every time.  You never held a grudge.  You were always there.  Always.   

Fifteen years.  

You helped raise our children.  Every morning you followed me to the door as I grabbed my things and left for the day.  You'd stand in the doorway, watch me leave, and I'd always turn and give you a nod.     

Fifteen years.  

On your last day we all returned to say our good-byes.  A four hour drive from college, a sick day called in to the office, a couple of missed morning classes at high school.  But that was okay.  

On this day everyone put their cell phones away.  We held you, we loved you, we thanked you...

One month later, when I leave for the office in the early morning hours, I still turn around, hoping to see you one last time.

Thank you for being my friend, Dear Prince.

...Elliot.

...that 'ol book smell

...did you know

Lignin, the stuff that prevents all trees from adopting the weeping habit, is a polymer made up of units that are closely related to vanillin.

When made into paper and stored for years, it breaks down and smells good.

Which is how divine providence has arranged for secondhand bookstores to smell like good quality vanilla absolute, subliminally stoking a hunger for knowledge in all of us.

...think about that before downloading your next read on the Kindle or IPad, and support your neighborhood bookstores.

Thanks for reading ;)

El

...Another Seat at the Table ;)

...introducing the newest member, (it's official now) of our family, 

Israel James  ;)


Thanks for stopping by, 
El

...Much to Think about

...jogging helps one to think.  As fate would have it, I've been pounding the mileage these last few weeks.

Last autumn I was offered an opportunity to coach a group of young men, 6th graders, during the upcoming basketball season.  Since the current local high school coach forbids parents from coaching their sons & daughters once they reach junior high, I figured taking on this challenge could possibly help my 7th grade son's eventual varsity team, when all of the most talented boys are lumped together for league play.

...one catch, however.  The boys whom I was about to coach had yet to win a single game...in three years of competitive play.   

Having a substantial amount of experience, this appeared to be a formidable task.  

Once we hit the hardwood, back in mid-November, I came away thinking that maybe these boys weren't as troublesome as advertised.  They yearned for knowledge, worked hard at drills, soaked up every last history lesson I offered, and begged for more.  I was pleasantly encouraged.  

Lightening struck during our first game.  I promised the boys that if they followed my instruction, played as hard as they've ever performed on the court, by the time our opposition called their first time out, we'd be ahead by ten.

I was wrong.  

Two and a half minutes into the game, when they called timeout, we were up by twelve.  

These boys won their first game by twenty-three points.  

Despite a few hiccups along the way, we finished the season with 7 wins, knocked off our undefeated rival, and closed out the year with a third place tourney finish.  

Not bad for a group of boys who'd been given up on far too early in their athletic careers.  

It wasn't long after the season, when the varsity coach came calling...

He'd been receiving phone messages from the parents of the 6th grade team.  They were already inquiring as to next season's coaching staff, and were requesting me for the honor.  

"So...what do ya think?" I was asked.

"Are you asking me to join your coaching staff?"

"I can't ignore the parents.  And you did some great things with those boys.  If you want the job, it's yours.  We'd have to talk money of course, cross the t's and what not, but absolutely, yes."

Up until this point, the locals considered me a dad, who knew a thing or two about basketball.  What most of them didn't know, was that I was a coach years before my wife and I had our first child.  Until that moment, they didn't realize that I was actually a coach, who was blessed with kids.  

I wanted to blurt out "yes," and be done with it.  Then just as quickly, realized my dilemma.  Moving up to a position with the school meant that I'd get paid a salary, but in return, would lose every last minute that I'd been squandering  for my writing.  There was daily practice time to consider.  Film sessions with the coaching staff.  Sitting with the coaches during Friday and Saturday varsity games.  Pep rallies.  Hours upon hours, dedicated, and expected of me, in return for my services.  

This would no doubt lead to spring AAU tournaments, and more coaching opportunities that I'd be expected to accept, as all up and coming coaching prospects do without batting an eye.  

...moving on up, while leaving something behind.  

"Can I have some time to think about this?"

"Sure can.  We can talk about it some more over the summer.  I'm sure we'll see each other at open gyms."

"Okay, sounds good."

"One thing to keep in mind, though.  Coaching the 7th grade team automatically makes you the 8th grade assistant by default.  This means that you'd be allowed some input on your son's team.  Not to mention a front row seat.  Just thought you should know."

...nearly a deal breaker.

"I'll definitely think about it.  Thanks."

...and so, I've been running.  A lot.

I truly love coaching.  Shaping young minds, keeping our youth active.  Too many positives to list.  

The writing industry can be a troublesome bear, armed with claws and an unwillingness to negotiate one's passion, regardless of their achievements or work ethic.  

And yet...as we all know, walking away is simply out of the question.  We stand tall, face the bear, and trudge onward.  

My thirteen year old son plays basketball almost every day.  We send him to all the best camps.  Allow him every opportunity to succeed.  And he's pretty darn good.

My daughter also plays.  Her team won their championship this past season.

My soon to be adopted one year old, (a story for another day ;) is already dribbling his ball around the house.

...and I'm still jogging, still thinking.   

Opportunities are like tests of one's will.  As if fate is asking, "How bad do we really want something?"  "What are we willing to sacrifice in order to achieve our goals?"

Tough questions...difficult answers to come up with.

In the meantime, I'll keep jogging.

Thanks for reading ;)

El

...So How far have We come, Really?

...call it one of nature's interesting quirks with a young person's coming of age...or perhaps not.

Our youth, upon reaching a year or two from adulthood, (my son very much included,) are enabled with an inborn trait, often released while biting into their birthday cake on their sixteenth birthday, of shaping their own opinions on our society's hot topics, and expressing those thoughts to anyone willing to lend an ear.  ...for as long as it takes.     

They raise a subject of concern at the dinner table or during advertisements prior to a movie, whether appropriate for a younger audience or not, and go right into their personal opinions without stopping for air, or heaven forbid, rebuttal from a parent.  If not mindful of an upcoming disagreement, such discussions can lead to a shouting match before the table is cleared of dirty dishes. 

This past weekend, left all but trapped inside as Mother Nature dealt us yet another blast of winter, our seventeen year old made the most of the opportunity, speaking of everything from politics to the legalities behind criminal execution, to the upcoming Super Bowl being played in sub-zero New York City.  

...and we listened, biting our tongues.  

The new drug administered to a death row criminal in Ohio that failed miserably, leading to a lawsuit by the deceased inmate's family.

Suffering through one of our country's coldest winter's on record, as a result of global warming trends, all at the fault of us, the wasteful.

Abortion rights. (When this subject slips from my son's lips, I find an excuse to leave the room, knowing that for the next twenty minutes, the boy and his mother will make for an uncomfortable evening.  They'll each look to me for backing each of their own opinion...and I won't be able to please them both.)

And the violence of us, in modern society.  Fighting over stuff, wants, not needs, bloodshed and a basic lack of common sense by those who should know better.

I'm proud of my son for his stand on many subjects, and question a few, but value his input.  It causes a parent to wonder if bringing a child into this world was really the smart thing to do?  

Or maybe, it'll be that child who will bring change.  Perhaps he/she will be the person this country's been waiting for all along.  Maybe...

"It's funny, despite all the amenities we, the modern consumers have achieved, how little we've actually grown as a society." 

My son's words, not mine.  And yet...

Young men still gather along the banks of the Feroe Island in Denmark every year, to slaughter hundreds of Calderon Dolphins with hooks and crowbars as a show of manhood.  Friendly creatures, nearly extinct, lured in to the coast, and killed for show, the coastline brimming in crimson for days following. 

  http://www.snopes.com/photos/hunting/dolphinhunt.asp

Receiving a call from Social Services to accept an abandoned child who was birthed into a toilet and left behind.  The mother?  She's on welfare, but driving around in a two year old Kia, paid for with monthly checks from the state.  

And so I listen to my son's opinions, agree with a few, shake my head at others, and think, "Please do better than we have.  Please."  

Thanks for reading, it's good to be back ;)

El

...The Unveiling, and Our Day in Court

...following three months of construction, the family basement is finally resembling the image of an entertainment area worth boasting of.  

New flooring, new drywall, new plumbing in the bathroom, a fresh coat of paint, and a forest green sectional to wrap the room up nicely.  It cradled two adults, two teens, and two 'tweeners with room to spare for last evening's Saturday night flick ;)

Not pictured is my future desk area, which is still in the works...but getting there.  And yes, when complete, I'll most definitely share the goods.

I'll use the basement project as my excuse for not participating in this year's NaNo, but honestly that had nothing to do with it.  I've written some fine fodder under far greater duress in my days.  

Nope, the real reason for my NaNo NoShow was wrapped around November 6th, 7th, and the upcoming 12th.  For those are, and will be our days in court for the custody battle over that little boy who first visited our home at four days old...and thus far, remains under our roof.  

Regarding the first two days...testimony rolled on as expected, all witnesses arrived on time, cordially made their statements, and were duly thanked for their participation.  

My wife and I took the stand on day 1, were asked questions that we were expecting, and were prepared to answer.  

The highlight of the day, coming when my wife was on the stand... "can the little boy in question speak yet, at fourteen months old?"

"Yes, Ma'am, he's been talking for some time now."

"What are some of the words he can say?"

"Typical baby talk, mostly.  Dadda, Momma, Sissy, Bubba, Doggie, he meow's for kitty, and can say my son's name, Dylan, as well as you and I."

"When he says, Momma, or Dadda, who is he referring to?"

"My husband and I."

"If you were to be sitting in a room with the baby's birth parents, and he was asked to go to his mommy and daddy, who would he go to?"

"My husband and I," spoken without hesitation.

"Just one more question, Mrs. Grace.  If given the opportunity, is your family prepared to adopt the child in question?"

...deep breath, exhale.  "Absolutely.  We are all he knows, we'd be lost without each other..."

...the case will wrap up on Tuesday...I'll be in touch.

Thanks for reading ;)

El

Busy Times, and another South of Charm Review...

...my apologies, dear friends, for my recent absence.  No, I have not been taken hostage by my co-workers, in hopes of thwarting my latest writing project, (which of course means an overall lack of sleep, and a zombie-like appearance at the office ;)  Nor have I been run over by an errant passer-by and left for dead like my tiger-striped feline from "South of Charm."  

Nope, all's well.  Just busy.  Very busy.  There's a basement renovation project currently in the works, which, when complete, will house my new writing spot, where, with a little luck, "Ollie" will be penned.  Pics will be forthcoming...

There's also a court battle under way.  Nothing illegal, but rather, justice residing over the possible permanent custody of a little boy who was placed in our care at four days old.  A bouncing thirteen month toddler these days, whose fate rests in the hands of our precarious child welfare system.  He calls her "Momma."  When I arrive home from work, I'm known as "Dadda."  For he knows no other.  When he places his hand in mine, he never questions why his skin is darker then my own.  He clings to us as if there would never be, and should never be, anyone else to reach for.  We're always there for him, and will be, as long as we're deemed able...

What I'm currently reading...

Thus far, another masterful performance by Roland Yeomans, in the ongoing Legend of Victor Standish series.  Well done, my friend.  I'll be leaving a review when complete. 


As for me...

Check out my latest review on "South of Charm," from Lu Ann Worley at Rockin' Book Reviews.  

http://www.rockinbookreviews.com/2013/09/10/south-of-charm-by-elliot-grace-book-review-by-lawonder10/

Thanks so much Lu, for your time and honesty!

So that's what I've been up to.  How about you?

Thanks for reading...

El ;)


       

Things I've learned while at the Beach...

...I always find it interesting how the ins and outs of life slow to a crawl during visits to those enchanting, southern beach towns, both along the Gulf Coast, and the Atlantic seaboard.  

Those citizens who've managed to figure out a comfortable way of life along either coast, have also discovered the secret to an enjoyable life, even if it is a bit behind the times...which is not necessarily a bad thing.  

One can still rent VHS tapes at the local movie store.  Wifi is often accessible in the town coffee shop, or occasionally on the upper deck of one's rental, as the tide permits.  But only then.

Volkswagon vans still troll along Highway 17, rust free since 1963.  

When it rains on the coast, it really does pour, fearfully so.  And within minutes, the clouds move on, the sun returns, and all's well once again ;)

Something I'm curious about...the demand for local reading material along either side of the coast remains high, and not so much of the electronic variety.  Book stores in southern Florida and the Carolinas are a hot spot, their shelves stocked with actual books, some used, others hot off the press, smelling of ink, and bindings that creak when opened for the first time.  Lord, how I've missed that sound.  

Local writers are held in high regard, showing up at indie book stores for an afternoon signing and a cocktail, or three.  

Everything slows to an idle pace, where tourists are not only welcomed, but anticipated.  Smiles are addictive, which lead to glorious relaxation, forgetting those irritable to-do lists left miles behind, but waiting.

I realized how fun it is to shark fish in the Gulf...no worries, it was catch and release ;)

In spending a week with the kids, I learned during one rainy afternoon that Robin is no longer Bat Man's trusty sidekick, but is now a relatively tough dude on Teen Titans, having left the Dark Knight in the dust...(at least on Nickelodeon.) 

My wife and I realized that our youngest member of the family, the little boy we hope to soon adopt, not only loves the water, but is fearless of those choppy waves.  Swimming lessons are on the docket.  

And while relaxing, I had time to think.  To dream.  To create.  

An idea took shape, one that tickled my fancy during last year's vacation to the Carolina coast, and returned with a vengeance.  Something brewing over the past months that  I considered an interesting thought to remember, has now moved to the top of my list of projects, a story that demands attention.  

I call him "Ollie."  Last year he was just an interesting character.  He's now become a very special boy.  A foster child buried in the system, struggling for peace, when he discovers a gift that he's been granted.  Perhaps born with.  One that will change everything.  Everything...

I adore those coastal waters and the many gifts they offer.  Those of peace, and those of opportunity. 

Thanks for reading ;)

El

...Off the Grid

...sneaking off the grid for a bit, traveling South with the family for a little R & R in The Gulf.

And perhaps if I can work a little "Charm," there may be a southern-style book signing in the near future... 

I'll be back in a few weeks!

Happy Summer everyone ;) 

El

Mark Cooper's Independence Day...

...this past Wednesday, July 3rd, James David Myers, a convicted rapist serving a life sentence at the Mansfield Correctional Institute, (once the home of Andy DuFraine in The Shawshank Redemption,) celebrated his birthday by escaping from the prison and vanishing into the stormy evening.  

An all-points bulletin hit the airwaves shortly after.  

Because my home sits less than 30 minutes east of the prison, we took notice. 

A twenty-four hour manhunt for the escapee turned up no clues as to the whereabouts of Myers.  Many figured him to have departed the area, gaining as much distance from Ohio as possible.  

Only one day later, while many of us were celebrating our Independence Day with family & friends, James David Myers entered the Olivesburg General Store, a small locally owned market, eight miles north of the prison, and less than ten minutes from my home.  

He steps up to the counter, places a hand over his very own mugshot, taped to the glass only hours earlier, and asks the clerk to use the phone.  

Recognizing the escapee, the trembling store attendant hands Myers a cordless receiver.

At about the same time, Mark Cooper, his wife and son, enter the store and order ice-cream cones from the nearby freezer.  Mark notices a man talking on the phone a few feet away, considers his appearance, thinking that he's seen him somewhere before, then makes eye-contact with the attendant behind the counter.

Realization dawns...

Remaining calm, Cooper ushers his family outside, dials 911 on his cell, then instructs his wife and son to stay outside.  He fears that Myers may get away before the authorities can arrive.  He thinks, what if that were my wife or daughter behind that counter? 

Mark Cooper reenters the store, notices that Myers is no longer using the telephone, but remains at the counter, eyeing down the candy bars and packs of chewing gum.  Cooper, standing over six feet tall, tipping the scales at three hundred pounds, and wearing a shirt donned in our country's stars & stripes, walks past Myers, hesitates, then grabs the escapee from behind, locks his arms into a full nelson, and pins him to the floor.

There they wait until the police arrive, guns drawn.  

In the time it took them to get there, really no more than five minutes give or take, their job had already been done for them. 

They found James David Myers tied up in banding wire, and held down under the weight of Mark Cooper, left with no choice but to stare at a United States flag until being escorted back to his cell in Mansfield.

Now that's what I call, being a Patriot on Independence Day ;)

Thanks for reading, 

El     

...A Passage that would Change Everything

...this past weekend my oldest son and I attended a local musical competition known as The Battle of the Bands.  As the title proclaims, musicians from around the area, some from across the state, others peddling in from down the block, meet up at the fair grounds for a winner take all concert.  

The concept...play four or five of your very best songs, offering musical  sustenance to an impatient audience baking under clear skies, for a chance at winning some free recording time, their best tune played on the local radio station, and an hour long concert during the yearly Octoberfest.  

For an unknown artist of the lyrical tune, this is playoff time.

My son and I sat toward the back of the grandstand, enjoying a taste of local flavor, occasionally offering support, at times yearning for the chorus to end.

Nearing the conclusion of the show, our true reason for being there ambled onto the stage.

I leaned toward my son, who'd never heard them play.  "You're in for a treat."

Musical group Reddy Freddy, three brothers and their enthusiastic drummer, all born and bred less than a mile from the stage they now stood upon, eased into their first song.  

I'm a fan of Reddy Freddy, have mentioned them in previous posts, and spend my days in a cubicle, (when not on the road), sharing thoughts and ideas with their base player.

The crowd, restless after endearing twenty minutes of bad karaoke, grew still, thinking perhaps they were listening to Dave Matthews, or Jack Johnson, as opposed to a group of fellas from across town.

Each song garnered wild applause.  When they finished up their time in the spotlight with their best hit, "DNA," every last soul in attendance was on their feet.

Playing only their own work, Reddy Freddy swept the competition and took first place.  Perhaps I'm biased, but in the end it really wasn't even close.

When I introduced my son to the band members, including the talented base player who, during normal business hours, shares an office with yours truly, the first question out of my boy's mouth proved a bit forward, but nonetheless worthy of discussion.

"Why are you guys still playing for pennies around here, and not on tour with The Lumineers?"

The answer was really quite simple.  "Because that ONE person hasn't heard us just yet."  He then leaned forward, as if about to offer my son the secret to tuning a guitar in less time than it takes to slap together a ham 'n cheese on rye, and said, "But I'm pretty sure he will...some day."

That conversation between my son, and my musical pal from the neighboring cubicle, has stuck with me since.  

When it's all said and done, musicians and writers are very much alike.  Starving artists from opposing branches, yet stemming from the same thick trunk.  So much talent, all those dreams, each of us waiting around for that ONE person that'll change everything.

And from there, an idea struck.

What if, say...Stephen King were to somehow get a copy of my novel, South of Charm?  And what if he were to be so cool as to read a passage of Charm on YouTube, perhaps even the first few pages of chapter 36, my personal favorite?

And what if that simple download, just a guy reading a story, were to earn a hundred thousand hits during its infancy?

What then?

All it would take is one person to change everything.

Just one.

Pass it on... 


You can listen to Reddy Freddy's "DNA" on the link below...
     http://reddyfreddy.bandcamp.com/track/dna

And in case you're interested in reading Chapter 36 from South of Charm...
http://www.amazon.com/South-Charm-Novel-Elliot-Grace/dp/1590983637/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1372298367&sr=8-1&keywords=south+of+charm+by+elliot+grace

Thanks for reading ;)

El

Claude Anet's "Ariane"

...while sorting through dusty boxes and the long forgotten relics left behind from my wife's recently passed mother, I pulled from the corner of the attic, a treasured classic.

"...A sky of almost oriental crystal, a lovely clear, luminous sky, blue as a Nichapore turquoise, hung over the houses and gardens of the still sleeping city.  In the dawn and its silence, one caught only the call of the swallows pursuing each other across the roofs and the acacia branches, the luscious cooing of a dove on the tree-top, and far away, the harsh creak of the axles of a country cart approaching main street and the most fashionable of the town..."

Upon my first encounter with Ariane, I found myself enchanted with Anet's prose, a slower pace of poetic beauty.  Almost mystical penmanship, shared with the world during a time of most proper technique.

I vowed to improve upon my writing, yearning to one day pen such admirable  prose.  

...still working on it, but someday perhaps ;)

An Amazon search estimates the book's value at $49.95, this copy in particular, from the early 1920's.  

I figure we'll be hanging onto this gem a bit longer.

Thanks for reading,

El 

Awareness...

...here's what I know.

At the age of five, a girl is taken from her mother, deemed unfit to raise her child.  Mother suffers from paranoid schizophrenia, often seen ranting about on the front stoop.  Neighbors complain to the authorities of her lewd behavior, tossing dirty laundry out of her second story window, screaming at alarmed families venturing by her residence at night.

She refuses her medication, arguing that it makes her sleepy.  Fights a court order to be hospitalized, and manages to scrape by, mentally unstable, yet savvy enough to live off her neighbors's tax dollars.

The young girl is placed in a foster home, her mother declared unable to ever care for her daughter for the remainder of her childhood.  

The courts however, allow weekly visits to continue, despite terminating mother's parental rights.

This act alone dissuades any potential adoptive parents from offering the girl a chance at a real family.

Years drag on like grass clippings in a weary breeze.  The girl ages to a teenager, bounces around from one home to the next, settling in, moving out...and continues to visit her mother.

At fifteen, she finds a family willing to adopt, on one condition.  No more visits with the birth mother.

Mother hires a lawyer, goes to court, and wins.  Visitations continue.  

The girl lets her grades slide.  Begins acting out in school, getting into fights, facing suspension.  She tells her foster parents that she can't control herself, that she feels "crazy" at times.  She tries to run away...is caught, demands to be moved, blows out of another home three months later...

A year limps by, and the girl now resides in a therapeutic home, doors locked at night from the outside, constant supervision, no time for play.

And the visits with Mom continue...

...I know of a young boy, three at the time, who is taken into care after his father beats him to a pulp for waking him up one night with a belly ache.

The boy spends two years in care, settling in with a family who adores him, yearn to have him as their son.  They push Children's Services to fight for full custody.  Hire their own lawyer, wage a custody battle with a set of birth parents struggling to sober up, to keep a job, to maintain a residence...and lose.

The boy is returned to his birth parents.

Three months later the boy is beat to death by his father, who now sits in prison.  

I wonder if he ever thinks of his son...while he sits there, thinking.

...here's what I believe.

...in this world we live in, the majority of  females, regardless of species, is at some point in their life, capable of reproduction.  Gifted with the ability to create life.

Where we as a society continue to fail, is in the belief of motherhood.  Giving birth to a child does not make one a mother.  The title of Motherhood is a noble accomplishment...one that is earned, not granted.    

When will we learn?  When?

El

 http://www.amazon.com/South-Charm-A-Novel-ebook/dp/B005DJ945A/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_4_JED2

http://www.amazon.com/The-Fall-ebook/dp/B00AZBIM68/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_2_CA7M

...are you Reddy Freddy?

...as is the case every Spring, the calendar bulges from the seams with to do lists and endless tasks, leaving only minutes at a time, like loose change jingling in one's pocket, for working on the next project.

When those precious moments do arise, the playlist I turn to for inspiration is locked and loaded with the usual suspects... 

Jack Johnson, Dave Matthews, Muse and the like.  A steady beat, some lyrical drawl, a steady tap tap tapping to the rhythm of fingertips on keys.

...and then there's these guys.

Reddy Freddy is a local band, their bass player and I are in neighboring cubicles at the day job, the two of us yearning for a little something more...just that one big hit.

I've added their latest release to my playlist, and considering it's mellow soul, thought perhaps my peers may want to do the same.

Give it a listen...Reddy Freddy with their latest hit, "DNA."

http://reddyfreddy.bandcamp.com/track/dna

Enjoy ;)

El

...an Interview with Donna

...hey guys, I'm visiting with Donna Hole today, talkin' about The Fall and all things in and about the world of publication.

Hop on over & check it out!

http://donnahole.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-fall-by-elliot-grace.html

El

New Releases!

...doubling up on this week's announcements, two pals of mine, and talented storytellers, Donna Hosie and Nicki Elson, are debuting their newest releases.  

Check it out!

Donna Hosie released the cover of, "The Spirit of Nimue," the final chapter in her Return to Camelot series.  Her Amazon release date is scheduled for May 31st.  

BLURB

THE RETURN TO CAMELOT trilogy concludes in THE SPIRIT OF NIMUE.

Natasha Roth and her older brother, Arthur, have removed the magical darkness that had fallen over the land of Logres.

But all actions have consequences.

Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, is now a sworn enemy. Natasha realises that the only way the land of Logres will truly be at peace is if the sorceress is removed forever. So with her beloved Sir Bedivere, the feisty Guinevere, and a trusty brethren of knights, Natasha plots to free Logres from the malevolence of Nimue once and for all.

Yet Arthur also has problems. Now a father to Mila, he starts to witness a terrifying change over his girlfriend, Samantha, as she struggles to contain the awakened powers of Morgana.

With dark magic coming at them from all sides, Natasha and Arthur decide to make use of the Falls of Merlin: a mystical landscape of waterfalls that connects 21st century England with the mystical world they fell into. A place that does not exist in the future.

And by the end, they will know why.

As Natasha finally discovers the truth about her past link to Logres a tragedy will strike at her very heart. Can Arthur get his young family back to the 21st century and still continue to be the king that Logres demands he be? What is the secret that Sir Gareth has been hiding all this time? 

And who is the true owner of Excalibur?


THE SPIRIT OF NIMUE is released on Amazon on the 31 May 2013. It is the final book in THE RETURN TO CAMELOT trilogy. 

AMAZON.COM
http://www.amazon.com/Donna-Hosie/e/B00A49AN7M/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Nicki Elson's latest, "Divine Temptation," is currently available on Amazon...

Maggie Brock has everything under control. Even her divorce, though painful at the time, only registers as a minor blip in her carefully constructed universe. Her life in Prairie Oaks has once again returned to a smooth, predictable pace...until an angel shows up in her bedroom. The angel is just as bewildered as Maggie about why he's been sent to her, but their unsuccessful efforts to gain understanding of the mystery fade to the background as their relationship grows. Soon, Maggie's biggest problem becomes the angel himself, as her feelings for him develop into something less than saintly. While Maggie struggles to keep her desires pure, a nefarious being lurks in the shadows of Prairie Oaks, watching and waiting for the opportunity to fulfill his ambiguous purpose. Preying on her conflicted emotions, the demon manipulates her at every opportunity, but the one to deliver Maggie directly into his hands is the last person she'd expect.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1623420083/ref=pe_174270_28914430_nrn_lm

Congrats to both Donna and Nicki on their latest releases ;)

El

...Spillin' the Goods for the Liebster Award ;)

...dear friend and fellow writer, Nicki Elson, recently tagged me with the honorable Liebster Blog Award, (German for sweetheart, beloved person.  Nicki, the world needs more like you ;)

The rules are simple, offer 11 fun facts about yourself, answer 11 questions provided by Nicki, pass the award on to 11 blogger pals, answering 11 new questions from yours truly.  

Alrighty then!

11 Facts...

1) I'm a father of three, married for 19 years...but after surviving the first ten, who's counting ;)

2) My wife and I are licensed foster parents, currently with a little boy who was delivered to us when he was four days old.  (He's now 8 months, and doing quite well.)

3) Once, while eating dinner at Outback Steakhouse with my wife, I recognized an award-winning author sitting at the table next to us, sharing a meal with a loved one, (whom I'm quite sure was not his wife.)  Nope, never said a word to him.

4) Having suffered through the discomfort of either breaking or jamming nearly every finger on both hands from my playing days in high school, writing for long periods of time can get interesting when arthritis sets in.

5) A friend of mine once paid me a handsome sum to write a letter of admittance for him, that he attached to a college application...and was accepted.

6) That friend is now the manager of a successful sports bar in Cincinnati.  He owes me a drink.

7) While my family resides in the Buckeye state, I'm formerly from Sarasota, Florida.

8) I'm an avid bookworm, having devoured such monsters as The Stand, It, and Terry Brook's entire Shannara series by the time I'd hit my teenage years.

9) My twelve year old son won a bet by sinking a half-court jump shot, and causing his sixteen year old brother and three of his friends to walk through town in nothing but their skivvies.  Great shot, kid!

10) I positively love movies by Quentin Tarantino, and novels that are too heavy to carry with one hand.

11) I once saw a ghost, a pair of them actually, just as clearly as watching one's next door neighbor pushing a lawn mower through tall grass, and have sworn to write a story about it...some day.

Questions from Nicki...

1) Les Mis, or Sweeney Todd?

     -Les Mis

2)  If you were a comic book super-hero, what would your name be?

     -The Typist

3) What are the toppings on your dream hamburger?

     -mushrooms, onions, pepper jack cheese, and mayo

4) What city (that you've never visited), do you most want to visit?

     -Melbourne, Australia

5) Favorite city that you have visited?

     -Savannah, Georgia

6) Which Disney character is most like you?

     -Rafiki 

7) Why? (from Q6)

     -He's a wise old coot with all the right answers ;)

8) Would you rather write a book that's a best seller, or one that's highly acclaimed?

     -Highly acclaimed

9) What's your biggest pet peeve when it comes to grammatical mistakes in a published book?

     -Making the same mistake more than once. (Once is forgivable, twice...nope)

10) If you could live permanently in any decade, which would it be?

     -Eighties

11) Who's your favorite fictional romantic couple?

     -Mulder & Scully 

...and now, my 11 Blogger pals, tag, you're it!

1) Anne Gallagher  

2) Catherine Noble

3) T. Decker

4) Clarissa Draper

5) Donna Hole

6) Beth Revis

7) Colleen Murphy

8) Jemi Fraser

9)Judy Croome

10) Morgan Shamy

11) Donna Hosie

and your questions are...

1) What is your favorite genre to read?

2) Pizza or pasta?

3) If you were to be stranded on an island and could choose one book to take with you, which would you choose?

4) If you could choose to have dinner with one writer, in order to pick his/her brain, who would you choose?

5) Who is your choice of musician for inspiration while writing?

6) The Walking Dead, or Breaking Bad?

7) If you could choose an actor to play the part of lead role in your book, who would it be?

8) Do you prefer writing in the a.m or p.m?

9) What is your best antidote for writer's block?

10) When going on vacation...drive or fly?

11) Name the city that tops your bucket list to visit.

Enjoy!

El ;)