DREAMSPELL Review

I just finished DREAMSPELL by Tamara Leigh...dang it. The ride is over. I immediately looked for another of Tamara's books to start, not wanting to fall clear off the horse and hit the ground.

This book wove a deep spell around me. I've often pondered what it would be like to go back into medieval times like this. My husband turned over in bed this morning and groaned because I was already reading this book. I read it walking, I took it to a meeting I had to be at. Couldn't put it down.

This is a premise I've loved since I first saw SOMEWHERE IN TIME starring Christopher Reeves and Jane Seymour. What would it be like to be able to dream yourself into medieval times? How would it be to change the past and right a horrible wrong? When I first read about Britain's two little princes who disappeared without a trace, this is what I wanted to do. Why not have someone from our time rescue them?

Basically this was the idea of DREAMSPELL, though with two other little boys. I loved it. I loved that Kennedy got her second chance at crashing through the cancer barrier, even while her life was slipping away. I wanted to scream, "Hold on! It'll work out!"

It will work out, won't it?

I was glad that Fulke wasn't a Fabio-lookalike. I liked him rugged and scarred from a life of battle. If he's any good, he's got scars. I've been in many medieval-like battles. Even the fake battles are difficult to emerge from completely intact. I certainly could never keep my hair curled or smell nice through it all. I think it's ridiculous when writers portray knights without some hefty scars, because the reality was that being a knight often hurt like heck, even if the guy was an extremely good fighter.

The pacing was fast. The storyline was tight. I enjoyed watching Kennedy trying to fit her twenty-first century head into a medieval body. I think she did admirably at it. There were just the right amount of calls for burning the witch, garderobe references, and dastardly henchmen. I liked the confusion about what was going on. They couldn't, after all, pick up their cell phone and call.

There were about two quarts of blood and hacked limbs, zero sex, a thousand or so hours of sleep deprivation (and that doesn't include my own sleeplessness), no scurvy language, and scriptorium-loads of great research. I laughed, I squirmed, I hated Kennedy's self-made underwear along with her. Too bad she couldn't take some back with her, along with toothpaste, comfy shoes, feminine products, shampoo, a library of how-to books, and an extensive first aid kit.

If you liked the book TIME MACHINE by H.G.Wells or the movie SOMEWHERE IN TIME, you'll love this book. Now to hunt down Tamara Leigh's other books.

A CHANGE OF PLANS Review

I recently took a cruise through a rollicking book by Donna K. Weaver called A CHANGE OF PLANS.

Having been on ships before, (one cruise line and one freighter and a number of tenders and small craft) I know a little of which I speak. This book evokes for me the feel of the salt spray in my hair, the bracing snap of the breeze, the smell of brine and fish, and the roller-coaster action of the waves.

I wish I could say that when I was on that cruise ship I would have welcomed the embraces of a hotty such as Braedon, but I was only four. For me, just keeping dinner down would have been agreeable. But for school teacher, Lyn North, Braedon Randolph would figure large in both her cruise and her life.

Despite her wish to be a social hermit in order to lick wounds her ex left, Braedon is an itch that can't be ignored. I have to hand it to the guy. He's tenacious and dedicated. I can't think of a better guy to have on one's deserted island (unless it's my man).

The whole time I found myself rooting for them to get together and stay alive. This is Jack Sparrow without the rum and the cheesy dreadlocks if he hadn't escaped on turtle-back. (I think Braedon has better teeth, too.)

I definitely enjoyed this, my end-of-summer mental cruise. It was the next best thing to being on an ocean liner headed for adventure and love.

You can dock with this book at:
Donna's Website
Amazon
or
Barnes and Noble

Gravid With Ideas

crossfitprovidence.com

I once read a story about a woman who felt she had nothing to say. She was like the person clinging to a cliff who was losing purchase and fearing the plunge to the rocks below. She simply couldn't see that there were three hand-holds just an inch to the left, two to the right, and a great ledge for her feet just a half inch below her right foot.

(I'm going to write that story in my own way but the gist will be the same. The original had to do with the stones of her porch and the ants beneath it.)

The woman in question (we'll call her Moira) was complaining to someone who told her to go to her door and look out, then describe what she saw.

So she went to the door and looked out into her yard. "I see my yard."
"Well what's in your yard?"
Moira shrugged. "Grass and a clothesline."
"Describe what's on the clothesline."
So she did. "There's a shirt of my husband's on the line."
Then the person said, "What do you know about that shirt?"
"Well," said Moira, "it's red."
"What kind of red?"
"Uh...cherry red."
"How do you suppose the dyer came up with that red color?"

The questioning went on. After each question, Moira went off to do research. Soon she knew everything about that shirt and the construction processes, the dyeing processes, the manufacture of buttons, the distribution to stores, and a plethora of other interesting facts.

"Now," said the wise person, "what else do you see?"

Suddenly Moira's proscribed little world blasted wide open. She could find interesting things to say (and write about) all around her.

Check these out:
There was a baby in the toilet. Don't you want to know why the baby is in the toilet? It's a horrendous idea, but it grips you like a white-tipped shark and won't let you go.
Blood bloomed in the puddle Mary stepped in on the edge of the road. Why is there blood for crying out loud? Where did it come from? Is it enough blood to indicate that someone is violently dead? Where's the body?
The day June got home from the hospital a man fell from the sky. He landed in her prize geraniums, squishing the whole bed. Why is it raining men? Why was June in the hospital?
The frigate slipped into dock without a sound, its sails tattered and fluttering in the breeze. How is the ship going anywhere with tattered sails? Where is the crew? Why is it docking?

(Dang. Now I have a few more books to start.)

Finding idea fodder is a matter of seeing the world through unglazed eyes and training your brain to actually see what is out there. Or in the case of fiction writers ask yourself, "What if...?" When you don't know something, research it. Ask the difficult questions and don't be lazy about the answers. Fear not about putting those answers out there into the wide world. After all, Wikipedia is written by people like you and I. They go research something and put it up for all to click and read about. With one click hundreds of people a day could be reading something you wrote.

Almost more important than starting the book, is finishing it. If you leave your characters to rot in a literary oubliette, it will be as if you never brought them to life in the first place. Can't you hear their voices at night calling you to get off your fat rear and finish their story? I can. Shudder. Don't let them languish while you putz along polishing incessantly. 

On the other hand, do hone your book into the glittering, sharp sword it has the possibility of becoming. If you put material out that is full of typos and plot holes, your readers will abandon you in disgust. Fill and pave over the plot holes and don't rely solely on spell check. A great editor will save your book.

For some years now, I've been trying to find a good book on how to live with people who have Asperger's Syndrome. As yet I haven't found one I like. I've come to the conclusion I'm going to have to write it myself at some point. But it all hinges on when I figure out how to answer my own questions. It'll take time, dedication, research, and a will to pay it forward. As yet I haven't pushed this project to the front of my huge line of ideas waiting for exposure. 

That's one.

Every time I turn around, there's another book idea pushing at me to make it breathe. There is a Dickensian skeleton awaiting flesh on my operating table as we speak, as well as several needing life blood and the last spark before they spring from the table. I will get around to CPR on Larkin and Charlotte and Luke and the gang at Prima Nochta. 

Soon, my pretties.

When All Hope is Gone

www.history.navy.mil/photos/sh-usn/usnsh-i/ca35.htm‎

We've been watching Shark Week on Netflix; enjoying learning about those sleek, uber-engineered powerhouses of the ocean. We've learned when not to go swimming and where, and the how to survive one of their attacks. Last night we watched a program on the USS Indianapolis tragedy.

I am so in awe of those men who held on past the death of hope. And more than that, helped others to survive. The odds were nearly insurmountable: their ship had sunk, pulling hundreds of men down with it; many were covered in burning oil; hungry sharks circled the entire time picking off the weak and dying; the thirst drove many to drink the sea water; exposure; hunger; and loss of morale. Survivors of this wreck should wear a badge of courage. Maybe not a physical badge, because any decoration would not be vehicle enough to carry all the loss and anguish and sense of deprivation. But they should carry it in their heart. My hat is off to them.

My biggest heroes are those who hang on past all hope of rescue.

Frodo and Sam in the LORD OF THE RINGS, dragged themselves clear to the brink of Doom to toss the ring into the flames. In the same book, it's Eowyn facing down a Nazgul carrying the Witch King, the most fearsome of Sauron's minions ever to have sprung from the foul pits of Mordor.

It's Joe Simpson solo finishing a disastrous climb down from Siula Grande (a peak in the Peruvian Andes) with a badly broken leg. He'd fallen down a crevasse and been left for dead. By the end of his excruciating trail, he was licking snow melt from rivulets coming down the rocks. You can get his book here.

How about Forlorn Hopes, those forsaken men who were sent up the glacis of the castle to scale the walls first. They went up while the ammunition was still plentiful; the oil was boiling, the quivers full of arrows, the rock piles high. They went with the idea that they were never coming back.
 

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Artist: Brad Wrobleski

If our Founding Fathers had bailed on the whole America thing because of torture, penury, injury, slander, and the threat of impending death, where would our country be today? Most of those men died penniless and alone. George Washington should never have been able to drag his rag-tag army to a successful finish to the War for Independence. Those men hung on by sweat and grit and an indomitable will to succeed.

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robarnieanddawn.com

It's Natalie du Toit of South Africa, a one-legged swimmer who swam in the 2008 Olympics in Beijing, along with the two-legged swimmers. She also won gold medals in the 2004 Paralympic Games and the Commonwealth Games. 
 
We tend to give up on things when the going gets tough, often way too early. Because we can't stand to be uncomfortable or out of our 'zone', we throw away the right to stand with giants. We let our fears, our insecurities, our whiny laziness win the battle we should have won. I know, I've done it countless times. When I should have put that little extra effort into something, I bail on it for something more interesting.

664-06277797 (RF) 

 Well not anymore. The goal is to be excellent. The goal is to make it to the finish line whether I'm dragging along or not. The goal is to actually RUN tomorrow in my 5K.

Persevere!

Bog Rolls and Boiling Frogs

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I was thinking the other day about bog rolls (toilet paper for the uninitiated). In my humble opinion the quality of such has gotten steadily worse. We all deplore the lack of cohesiveness, its inability to do the job correctly, its relative expense versus its usefulness. Sure it's soft. Sure we can get rolls and rolls of it. But we have to use so much paper to do what previously few squares did, that economy goes right out the window. Makers of toilet paper are sacrificing utility for the almighty buck.

faustasblog.com

Which seems to be exactly what is happening in our country. We've become a one-ply country where once we were a staunch two-ply place. Our makers have touted the cushy softness of a one-ply government, while slyly stealing away that whole extra ply to use for themselves. And they couldn't care less that we are left with nothing but shreds and holes.

We have dealt with substandard bog roll for so long, now, that we no longer understand how to stand up and demand that they stop making junky 'toilet paper.' We have been gulled, like the frog and the boiling water.

"Boiled frog?" you ask.

robert-craven.blogspot.com

Indeed. The way to boil a frog is not to drop him into already boiling water. He'll jump out. The way to do it is to drop him in nice cool water and turn the heat on low. After a while you turn up the heat. Pretty soon the frog goes from enjoying a nice dip in a hot tub to being a French dude's meal.

That's what's happening in our country. We're about to the boiling point and the frogs are sitting around saying, "Gosh it's gotten toasty."

We need to find a way to get back that better bog roll government--the one which actually gets the job done without fraying to rags. To do that, we might have to sacrifice a little of the softness and security. We might have to step up and turn off the heat.

A Change of Heart Interview and Giveaway

Today I'm featuring Roseanne Evans Wilkins' book A CHANGE OF HEART on my blog. I recently met Roseanne through my writing club and she turned out to be my Hubs' cousin! So not only is she a fantastic writer, but we can talk dirt and get away with it.

Today, however, I'm wearing my blogger hat, so strap in and get ready for the ride.

"...by small and simple things are great things brought to pass..." (Alma 37:6)

Christina Andrews, a beautiful college student from a small town in Kansas, is only one insignificant person out of billions of people inhabiting the planet. Not long after settling into her college dorm, she's dating three attractive men. Christina's never spent much time dwelling on her past, but when it comes time to make eternal decisions, the fact that her father was a rapist takes center stage. How can she listen to the whisperings of the Spirit when her father was a criminal? Will she be able to step aside from her past to make the decisions that will ultimately save many lives, and will she be able to find the kind of love that lasts forever?"

Interview to come!

If you'd like to purchase A CHANGE OF HEART, do it here. If you'd like to win a free audio copy, click here: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Nexux Point: The Fall of the Altairan

Well I don't know anything about Altairans falling, but NEXUS POINT: THE FALL OF THE ALTAIRAN by Jaleta Clegg was a smashing book!

I read a fairly significant amount of Sci Fi, so I know of that I speak. On first meeting Dace, the ship's captain and owner, I thought, Boy, this is one brain-dead chick. If I were going to fling my bones into the vast reaches of space in a tiny ship, I'd be absolutely positive my new two-man crew weren't going to waste me. And I'd sure as heck make certain I knew every millimeter of the ship I'd just bought was yar (shipshape). 

Dace didn't.

The result? Her craft fragged to bits and Dace was marooned on a backwater planet. As soon as her escape pod touched down, the poor captain was running for her life--through the front end of the book and clear out the back.

There were slavers, druggies, a fleeing orphan whose dad may or may not have been a galactic-level warlord, debauched monks trying to find someone immune to their drugs, Robin Hood, a mean duchess who dressed like a harem girl, researchers, galactic policemen, and about a gallon of chasing henchmen. I noticed about a teaspoon of blood, no sex, three tons of confused skittering, a pile of wit and snarky comments (though no swearing, thank you), several burning-at-the-stake attempts, lots of boo-boos, plenty of clothes changes, rescues up the wazoo, and no partridges in pear trees.

I found about a page full of I's that drove me nuts. I wanted to scream until that page died. I was just getting ready to slam the book shut. I didn't. I was glad. I think next time Jaleta should watch that. I think there are those who would stop reading at that point. I think that would be a shame.

Other than that one page, the pacing was fast, the repartee witty, the world-building delicious. Her names were...uh...interesting. I'd totally get this book again. Great job, Jaleta!

I have to get the next book and find out whether Dace finally gets a new ship, bashes the daylights out of the drug pushers, and hooks up with Whatshisname. Two thumbs and a pinky up for NEXUS POINT: THE FALL OF THE ALTAIRAN.