Kristina's writing story

If music be ...

2012-02-15T04:43:00.000-08:00

... The food of love / plot bunnies / inspiration, player play on.

It has been like living in stress city here for the last month. Why? Hmm let's see if I can re-cap two years into a period of a few paragraphs.

Any reader to any of my blogs know I suffer from POTS / EDS both can debilitating conditions in their own right, let alone both together with overtures of chronic fatigue. It has effected my life in so many ways, also the lives of my family too. My husband was told by OHS, due to my health issues he cannot work more than two hours away. Incase I have a fall and the children need care. I don't black out, but I do sometimes hurt myself badly. The contract at the unit where he currently works states that he needs to do such. The company thought the easiest solution would be to post him to different unit. During the last two years since this decision was made we've been going, not going, going, not going so often I have hardly known where we stand. Finally it was on with a move date of May.

Four weeks ago to the day, we had our Guaranteed house price back. (Company uses are relocation company to sort moves) It was not close to what we needed, even after an appeal. I will not go into the other knock on effects of this. BUT it now looks like the move is likely to be off, again. I cannot explain how much I have wanted to move away from this area. Not because I dislike Wales, it is a lovely place, but because of many different reasons. In short I am a Southerner born and bred and like a bit more 'life' around me. Now the cause of the stress is evident, not only the uncertainty but also a dream being pulled away from you. This does feel like the final time. OK, the message here is to change the dream. Yep, that's cool I know where to head next. What it does not stop is the sense of loneliness I have here, this does not stop the difficulty of using a wheelchair in the local town. (Wheelchair, now that is another story and yes causing some stress)

The last month has been a pretty much barren wasteland for writing or inspiration. I've had the occasional visit from the plot bunny, when there has been a lull and some fresh grass has grown for them. I decided since we heard the appeal has been rejected, to try and put some thoughts to staying here and trying to do what I can. So this morning I was wondering around with a tape measure, measuring up the spare guest room, which is currently box storage space. I was sat here pencil and paper working out whether I could get the room working. Decided I could and was busily pricing up some new bookcases (I have a lot of books needing homes other than boxes). This barren wasteland for plot bunnies has not been a cause for concern as I have been busy in my new role with Page Turners. Oh I digress, yes I was sat here with laptop on my knee and hubby was in the next room playing his digital piano in organ mode.

WHAM! The opening chords of Tocca and Fugue filled the air. If you don't know what they sound like here is a video

This piece is wonderful! About the only piece of Organ music I like. Despite it having the Devils chords within it. OK, perhaps that just says something about me. BUT what it did do was scare several plot bunnies back to me and now I am able to settle down to do some writing. It really does seem that music still has that effect on my soul. I'll take the devils chords if the plot bunnies come back!

I hope the dust will finally settle and I can start to create an equilibrium in which I can continue with world domination ...

No mothballs around here!

2012-02-09T12:30:00.000-08:00

I told you did I not this world of mine spins in spirals! Nicely working down changing my work over to my penname. Which is still happening by the way and can be found here BUT fate has changed my path slightly again.

I am now in the role of Head of Marketing at Page Tuners Publishing. Who are they? You will be finding out soon enough. They are the same people who will host Kay Darling, as I have said before they are an up and coming Avant-Garde publisher, who strongly believes authors are individuals, to be looked after and one size does not fit all!

This blog now has taken on a new lease of life. Like the Phoenix from the ashes, my mythological symbol. I will keep you abreast of my journey through this. What are authors are up to and any random off beat things I usually throw up!

I've restocked the bar, plumped the cushions. Lets settle in on the rocket ship!

Ch, ch, ch, changes!

2012-01-15T05:47:00.000-08:00

As I have detailed in my post below, those people who have my writing career at their hearts thought it would be better I was under one house and one brand. However, as I am a fairly independently minded person (stop saying 'yeah right, fairly? Really?) In this case it is fairly, because I am fortunate enough to have found someone to work with, who is on the same 'wave length' as me on things.

After much discussion we've agreed that it is a good idea to have all my writing under one name, but I wanted to distance the erotica side of my writing away from the family. So we have come to a compromise, I am moving my writing under the penname Kay Darling.

Apart from writing erotica, there are other reasons behind it; I have interest in many areas, tarot, knitting, crafting and playing facebook games, I felt I wanted an independent 'writing name.' Something that took me away from the other bits and pieces of my life.

Upside to this is I can still be Kristina Jackson on facebook and promote my main stream fiction on the various groups, as many authors I know who write under pennames do, but it means also I can promote my erotica purely as Kay Darling.

What happened to Krispy Jackson? She's still going to be used. But in the joint projects I am working on with Toney.

If this sounds complicated, that is probably because of it is! I am very happy about this change and having made all the essential decisions myself, weighing up the advice of people into the bargain.

As a result this blog will slowly become 'mothballed' and I will start a new one up.

Thank you for reading and being with me in the first year of my journey.

The wheel turns

2012-01-06T13:05:00.000-08:00

I ended the New Year on a high. I got accepted by a lovely publisher and my debut novel was launched. But Dame Fate decided to put her dancing shoes on and during the beat of her dance she has changed my direction.

I discovered, through my experimenting with writing, that aptitude for writing erotica. Anyone who knows me well enough, there are a few, will know my mind is as twisted as corkscrew and as dirty as sweeps earhole! To others this may come as surprise. To some this may seem a despicable, dirty and loathsome thing to do. I had every intention of writing my erotica in secret under a pen name, only known to a few. This is where Dame Fate thought it be fun to dance through my life.

Enter into the fray Toney La Tripp. Some of the biggest changes to my writing career have stemmed from Book Junkies group on Facebook. I met Toney here, we got along almost immediately. Toney is the author of the fabulous Jacked Up series. I like Jack, but you have to feel sorry for him. It was only some time later I realised that he too had a small publishing house. So the cunning plan of getting him to publish my erotica under my pen name occurred to me. I made Jo, Boss Bean of my current publisher, Inknbean press, fully aware of my plans and intentions. Jo is lovely by the way.

Dame Fate not content in me just thinking this secret little plan, decided to dance through my life again. Toney asked me to step in last minute to co-write a joint project, an author who was doing it got sick and could not finish it. Originally it was going to be a 'ghost write' and no-one would know it was me. I went to clear this with Jo, as it was not technically covered by my contract, I always played fair and openly. But Dame Fate jumped into Jo. Jo is a very considerate person and has the interest of her authors at heart. She initiated a discussion with Toney without me knowing about it. So when I woke Wednesday morning I found an email offering the chance to move across to Page Turners Publishing, where both my main stream and my erotica could be held under one umbrella.

I spent two days deliberating over the decision. It has been made with my head rather than my heart. I had, as previously stated, never intended to write erotica openly as me. But the universe had other ideas. So it seems that it is part of my brand. So I am taking the decision to write both main stream fiction and Erotica under me or rather Krispy Jackson (my nickname) with Page Turners Publishing. So the Beans will caretake my novel until it can be transfered over to Page Turners. I wish all Beans current and Future much success and plentiful words.

I hope you all understand that this is a big step forward to me and a brave one. I hope you wish me well.

Christmas reading recommendations

2011-12-19T05:54:00.000-08:00

Christmas is aboutloving and giving. So I am sharing some love vibes here, by giving my blog overto some stupendous Indie Authors. They are telling you why their book might begood for a read over Christmas.

Whether looking for aChristmas Present for another, or a special treat for you, this is the blogpost you need.

A goodlife. You know . . . a nice home, dependable vehicle and, if fate smileskindly, a good-looking woman. Not picky, just a comfortable existence with adecent job that you don't hate. Is that too much to ask? For Jack, it is.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/All-Jacked-Up-ebook/dp/B0060M6VY6

http://www.amazon.com/All-Jacked-Up-ebook/dp/B0060M6VY6

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Patchwork Dog has a knack for getting into trouble and hisbest friend; Calico Cat usually winds up right in the middle of the mess withhim. Patchwork Dog and Calico Cat has illustrations at thebeginning of each chapter that hint at what the new adventure will be about.Other pictures are included at the end of each story along with some questionsfor the child to answer. Older children can read the stories themselves or itwould make a wonderful bedtime story book for younger kids. The five tales willentertain children of all ages with the antics of the title characters andhopefully teach youngsters some valuable lessons on sharing and workingtogether.

(US Amazon) http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006B9RSIQ

(UK Amazon) https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B006B9RSIQ

(Smashwords) http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/106018

(BreakthroughBookstore) http://astore.amazon.com/breakthroughstore-20/detail/B006B9RSIQ

(B&N) http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/patchwork-dog-and-calico-cat-greta-burroughs/1107762652?ean=2940013533219&itm=2&usri=greta+burroughs

(US Amazonpaperback) http://www.amazon.com/Patchwork-Dog-Calico-Greta-Burroughs/dp/1467989460/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323114841&sr=1-3

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Laughter is the best medicine. If you're in need of a healingdose,
follow Frankie around as she starts her newlife. Tossed out of
Hollywood by the vagaries of show business andMother Nature, she
returns to her mother's bed and breakfast inWoodstock, New York,
where Frankie spent her adolescence, avoidingchores and chasing after the handyman's crush-worthy son. Mom's now in anursing home, but using nothing but her wits, her charm, and her freakishknack for
cooking in large quantities, Frankie puts upwith her bossy older sister, a four-time serial divorcee and famousfeminist, as they turn the B&B into a holistic health retreat go paythe bills. She may even fall in love. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'lllearn a lot of things to do with tomatoes. Enjoy!

This is available inpaperback at

At Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jokes-Me-Laurie-Boris/dp/0982642393/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1320177045&sr=1-3

At B&N.com: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-jokes-on-me-laurie-boris/1104146968?ean=9780982642399&itm=2&usri=laurie%2bboris

Directly from the publisher: http://4rvpublishingcatalog.yolasite.com/novels.php

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Riders of the Wind isan epic novel of adventure and romance set in the scene of aviation during theturbulent times of the nineteen twenties and thirties. The book follows thelives of Charles and Doretta Cross through the era of the great depression,prohibition, the airmail, and the formation of the infant airlines. Itgraphically portrays the danger, excitement and romance of flight in thepioneering years before World War Two and takes the reader into the cockpitwith the airmail pilots of the twenties and the airline route survey pilotsflying the heart of the Amazon jungles. A “must read” for anyone interested inaviation or, for that matter, anyone who is merely interested in the history,dress and lifestyle of the pre-WWII era.

(US Amazon) http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0055PN0UW

(BreakthroughBookstore) http://astore.amazon.com/breakthroughstore-20/detail/B0055PN0UW

(UK Amazon) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0055PN0UW

(B&N) http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/riders-of-the-wind-robert-deburgh/1103475763?ean=2940011316357&itm=1&usri=deburgh

(Smashwords) http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/61794

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Why youshould buy this book for Christmas: This book is a five star read that has aperfect balance of steamy romance, suspense and a completely unpredictableending.

See reader reviews on Amazon,Smashwords, or on my website: http://stephenhise.com/reviews.html

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Upgrade-ebook/dp/B004W0C5CA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324122485&sr=8-1

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Upgrade-ebook/dp/B004W0C5CA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1324122565&sr=8-2

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/23869

WordClay: http://www.wordclay.com/BookStore/BookStoreBookDetails.aspx?bookid=62324

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The holidays are for family and warm fuzzies, right? For curlingup in front of a roaring fire, eating roast chestnuts and drinking eggnog whileyour loved one reads A Christmas Carol aloud to you whiletelling you you're the most important person in his/her world... Cue scratchedrecord sound effect… well, people, this is the real world, and one in whichpeople jump to their deaths to avoid flaming jet fuel. Perhaps not exactlyseasonal, but horribly real, this short account of one man's journey through apersonal crisis set against the far greater catastrophe of the 9/11 terroristattacks is unflinching and sobering. But above all—and here come some of thosewarm fuzzies, after all—there is a glimmer of hope and redemption to be foundafter all. Perhaps not Jimmie Stewart, but it's something. And it costs aboutthe same as a couple of glasses of eggnog.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004U7EUGE/

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/54664

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004U7EUGE

www.the-migrant-type.com

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Why you want this bookfor Christmas; this from one of my reviews, says it for me;

From the moment I picked up the book I was caught. Like a flyin a web; a web made up of fantasy and enchantment. The book has several groupsof people whose destiny is closely woven together. You find yourself followingeach in turn, in no way does this detract from the overall plot, rather servesthe basis of drawing the reader in to know more. I quite honestly did not wantthis book to end.

Whether Fantasy is your normal genre or not, trythis book. You will not be disappointed.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004PLNNLS

http://www.amazon.com/Sable-City-Norothian-Cycle-ebook/dp/B004PLNNLS

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I'm not very good atpromoting myself, but I suppose what I can say about my book is this:

Cats, as I affectionatelycall it, is something i put together for two reasons. First, everybody kepttelling me the stories I had to tell about my cats were so funny I HAD to writeabout them, and I think most readers who love cats will at least smile, if notoutoright laugh, reading this bok. Second, in these twenty years in which Ihave shared my life with cats, experience has taught me many lessons and a few,handy tricks... and I wanted to share them with other people, to spare themsome of the problems (and suffering, at times) I've gone through, and to helpthem face small, everyday problems in the easiest way possible.

It makes (I hope) afunny and informative read.

http://www.amazon.com/Cats-Instructions-Survive-Being-ebook/dp/B006EPG2IO

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cats-Instructions-Survive-Being-ebook/dp/B006EPG2IO

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Joe Cafe is the perfect Christmas gift because if there isone thing I know about Christmas, it's that it is a time to reflect on grizzlymurders, kidnapping, strippers, war flashbacks, drinking, and organized crime.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Joe-Caf%C3%A9-ebook/dp/B004ZG8KRK/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1324064169&sr=8-5

http://www.amazon.com/Joe-Caf%C3%A9-ebook/dp/B004ZG8KRK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324064198&sr=8-1

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Thisis a classic love story, with the hints of paranormal. A well worthreading story for all.
It may not be the most perfectly written but, I(CAN promise) you once you start reading you will be hooked into it at thestart to finish.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/114257

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Tired ofChristmas goodwill, forced cheer and being polite to relatives you didn’t knowyou had? Want something to make you feel less guilty about being grumpy? Thentake a look at Hamelin’sChild by DJBennett – a deep and dark psychological thriller, that’s just right for makingyou realise that your safe and cosy life isn’t that bad after all. Michael Redford died on hisseventeenth birthday – the night Eddie picked him up off the street, shot himfull of heroin and assaulted him. Youcan read Michael’s story for just 86p on your new kindle. Less than a pound fora few hours away from yet another repeat show on tv. What are you waiting for?

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004PLNLWY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004PLNLWY

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/87542

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"Jonathan's Cross" is a wonderful testimony of the humanspirit with colorful and real-life characters, including an Irish heroine; allof whom will touch your heart in their own unique way and stay with you longafter the last page. They speak to failure, loyalty, dysfunction, success,loss, devotion, betrayal, commitment, and life. No matter who you are, you willrecognize yourself or a loved one in one of these characters.”

http://www.amazon.com/Jonathans-Cross-ebook/dp/B005C1N24I

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jonathans-Cross-ebook/dp/B005C1N24I

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Nephilim Genesis of Evil, the first in the Nephilim trilogy.
You want mystery and suspense in your newyear? Chills await you! Nephilim is THE gift that you won't be ableto put down! 5 star average review from Amazon.

Nephilim Genesis of Evil
A dark power described in Genesis revisits asmall mountain town.
A journalist who witnessed an evil presencesearches for answers.
He finds a town succumbing to supernaturalforces.
Now, an evil prophesy may be fulfilled by theNephilim.

Amazon (ebook)
http://www.amazon.com/Nephilim-Genesis-of-Evil-ebook/dp/B0053DUCVG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1324069752&sr=8-2

Amazon (paperback)
http://www.amazon.com/Nephilim-Genesis-Evil-Ren%C3%A9e-Pawlish/dp/098270562X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1324069752&sr=8-2

Smashwords
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/65718

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Nephilim-Genesis-of-Evil-ebook/dp/B0053DUCVG

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Looking for some time away from it all to catch a few hours onthe couch. Book reviewers say A Life of Death is full of excitement, pain,anger, and characters that you love, and love to hate. Readers say it deservesfar more than 5 stars and is a must read for everyone. Prepare to be suckedinto this paranormal mystery and discover the awful truth behind a smallVirginia town's unsolved murders. Just remember to wash away the tears andsplash some water on your face before returning to the dinner table. This holiday,look for A Life of Death in ebook or print at

http://www.amazon.com/A-Life-of-Death-ebook/dp/B00558UVOW

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/61283

http://authorwakincade.blogspot.com/

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Struggling with the abundance of family andfriends over the holidays? Need a few hours away from it all on the couch orback room? Find your escape and delve into Madelin's world in Invisible Dawn:Book One of Altered Realities. A sci-fi/dark fantasy where everyone has acheckered past and questionable future, book reviewers have said it isreminiscent of Blade Runner, a dark story that flows through the mind so wellthat it's a roller-coaster ride of excitement. Invisible Dawn will take youworlds away as Madelin, her godfather, and their new-found friends attempt todiscover their own abilities and escape the clutches of a government agency inpursuit of dominance over more than just one world. Exploring the unknowndepths of our own existence was never so thrilling. This holiday, look forInvisible Dawn in ebook or print at:

http://www.amazon.com/Invisible-Dawn-Altered-Realities-ebook/dp/B004SV2DSO/

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/48842

http://authorwakincade.blogspot.com/

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Why would you want this book for Christmas? Well, some readershave said that reading it is like taking a trip to Italy for less than the costof a fancy coffee. Others have said the attention to emotional detail wasnoteworthy. Still others have praised the way the relationship at the heart ofthe story was portrayed: romantic, yet realistic. The characters areheartwarming, likeable and sympathetic, without going overboard into schmaltz.And, finally, it's an involving, comfortably-paced read which accompanies thereader on a journey away from the frantic preprations of the holiday season.

Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/Ask-Me-Im-Happy-ebook/dp/B0051BDTXI/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1324075757&sr=8-2

Kindle UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ask-Me-Im-Happy-ebook/dp/B0051BDTXI/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1324075757&sr=8-2

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ask-me-if-im-happy-kimberly-menozzi/1100060294?ean=2940012491121&format=nook-book

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/57576

Paperback: https://www.createspace.com/3607702

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Why would someone want mybook for Christmas??

It has been known to causeloss of sleep and lateness for work.

What more could you wantfrom a book?

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0066HCK9K Print and E-book available

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Nancy-Lee-Parish?keyword=Nancy+Lee+Parish&store=allproducts

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/104296

http://www.diesel-ebooks.com/item/SW00000104296/Parish-Nancy-Lee-Amulet-Book-One-of-the-DragonBlade-Series/1.html

http://ebookstore.sony.com/search?keyword=Nancy+Lee+Parish

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Why you should buy - Because everybody needs a good laughduring Christmas. And Doodling is definitely the book to put the silly into thesilly season.

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004KSQVCO

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004KSQVCO

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/41101

B & B: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/doodling-jonathan-gould/1100144250

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My book, DEAD: The Ugly Beginning, belongson your list because it isn't "just another zombie book". This firstbook in the series (three are currently out and available and nine more remain)sets the table. This is a character-heavy series that Nickie Storey-Bailey hadthis to say about: "Browndid something that I didn’t think was possible; he took a zombie story and madeit seem real. Of course, there is a lot of gore, blood, head-bashing, and thelike. After all, this IS a zombie-related book and we all know that the onlyway to kill one is to disable their brains. I expected that. What I didn’texpect was a story with characters that I grew to like and care about."

You can find it atSmashwords:http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/24489

Or Amazon Kindle:http://www.amazon.com/Dead-The-Ugly-Beginning-ebook/dp/B003L202KW/ref=sr_1_2_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1324134780&sr=1-2

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A furry story for children's Christmas stockings- one night, Amy and her brother, James, follow their pet, Kiwi, to see whereshe goes when the moon is shaped like a cat's claw - whether it involves a huntfor mice or something else. Little do they know that, with a flick of her tail,Kiwi is going to lead them on the adventure of their lives to a land they neverknew existed in their wildest dreams. In the blue-lit world of Cat City, theyfind out what it's really like to have four paws and a tail. They also helpInspector Furrball solve the mystery of the missing catizens and find out whathappened to Madame Purrfect. Suitable for animal-loving readers over 9 -including adults!

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/55227

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004YKSZMM

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004YKSZMM

www.publishmybook.ie

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An anthology of 13 Christian science fictionand fantasy stories suitable for all ages! 5 star rating on Amazon!

Among the stories are:
Tech Support: In the near future, a customer calls technical support about hisrobotic lawn appliance that is running amok.
Rest Area: Interstellar driver Fiawól stops offon a planet for a quick rest stop.
It Happened One Sunday: One of those UFOthingies crashes into the church's parking lot and the congregation reacts.
Near the Meandering Way: Sparrow and Caterpillardiscuss the Creator's words.
Bohuw: Evil comes up with a plan.

Amazon Kindle version: http://www.amazon.com/Will-Write-SciFi-Food-ebook/dp/B004V4GNF2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324233817&sr=8-1

B&N Nook version: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/will-write-scifi-for-food-tim-baer/1105810931?ean=2940011510953&itm=1&usri=will+write+scifi+for+food

Smashwords version: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/88325

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1,001 COMIC BOOK TRIVIA QUESTIONS by Rich Meyer is the heightof
truth-in-advertising! You get 1,001 triviaquestions about comic
books. And for the same low price, we throw inthe answers as well.
It's easy as pressing "Next Page" tonavigate through this quiz book.
It covers comic books and characters from thelast 70 years of
four-color publishing, so there's sure to be atleast a question or
two on everyone's favorite character. From GreenLantern to Thor, from
Batman to the X-Men, from funny animals to giantmonsters, there are
questions that will thrill the neophyte andstump the expert! Comic
fans of all ages will love to find this underthe tree! Well, on their
Kindle at least.

AMAZON US SITE: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0051MFPHU
AMAZON UK SITE: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0051MFPHU

The Fools Journey

2011-12-14T09:38:00.000-08:00

Introducing The Fools Journey, my debut novel. Available in E-book on the 21st of December, in the New Year.

The Blurb

Can tarot cardsreally help a young woman whose life is not all it’s cracked up to be?

Moira isfrustrated by her life and even more so because she just doesn’t know what todo about it. A spur-of-the-moment decision to attend a psychic fair to get a tarotreading changes all of that. The Tarot reading helps her realise and seeexactly what she should do. Moira's friends and family start to question hersanity when she consults pieces of card for guidance. When she decides to quither job, sell her house and move away, they're sure of it.

What do Tarotcards mean? Can they help her find out about herself and guide her to a happierfuture? What has an encounter with a poltergeist and a haunted chest got to dowith Moira's journey to find fulfilment?

Now a taster, the opening paragraphs

The sky was flooded by the brilliant red light of the setting sun.As its fiery ball dipped towards the horizon, the sea became steely blue tingedpink by the dying light. The last raysshone on Moira’s hair turning it flame red; its curls framing the pale skin ofher face. Tears fell from her eyes. They coursed their way down her face anddripped off her chin. She sat there, idly tossing abandoned mussel shells intothe water, musing on what her life had become.

Moira’s job had long hours and gave her very little satisfaction.It had cost her a long-term relationship, her sense of morality and her pride.There was nothing she would not stoop to do just to succeed. Today had been oneof those days. She had worked late. On her way out, her boss had called herinto his office. He had demanded she satisfy his needs if she wanted to win thepromotion she had applied for. He had taken her on the office desk, her skirtaround her ears, whilst he grunted away like a rooting pig. Once his urges were satisfied, he dumped theused condom in the bin, discarding her with as little emotion in the sameinstant. She could hear him talking into the phone as she left the office.

Finding my style

2011-11-12T01:06:00.001-08:00

Itoccurred to me today as I drove on the school run, how much I've learnt in thelast month about me as a writer. Not only me as a writer though but writing ingeneral. Anyone who has read any interview I have done, or met me in thevarious writing groups I lurk in. Will know I wax lyrical about the need of agood storyline, not just a well spelt and edited book. To have either would belike having coffee without the water! You need both to make enjoyable.

I ampartaking in the madness that is nanowrimo at the moment and for me it ismadness. After a few days of a sore throat and feeling increasingly grottier, Imentioned to my GP how I was feeling, at my tendinitis review. Looked in mythroat, felt my glands, listened to my chest and declared 'viral glandularfever'. To which my response was 'again!' I had full blown glandular fever inthe past, when I was in my late teens. Ever since I'll have these bouts whichmedics term 'viral glandular fever' or other words a flare up! So I am knocked for six with this. The secondreason why nanowrimo is madness to me, it goes against the grain of what sortof writer I am.

I amnot a writer who can write thousands of words a day, nothing wrong with thosewho can. It's just not me. I'm foremost a poet! Words have to be woven into afabric in which to create the story with.I am merely a student of this compared to my favourite wordsmith, KenderMac Gowan. He does not so much weave stories but makes words act together seamlesslylike a ringmaster (another job he has been known to do). The balance for me nowcomes is finding how many words I can weave in a day to keep up with a regularoutput of books.

I amnot certain many authors find their style, but I am grateful I have foundsmine. This has been with the thanks of a bit of a nudge and support from somegreat friends Stephen Hise and Catherine Speight to name buttwo.

I encourageyou as a writer to play with words, have fun with words and see what you canmake them do. As a reader, then try someone new. With the availability of cheape-books you hardly loose anything. Check out Book Junkies Library for that.

I’llget off my soap box now J

Swings and Roundabouts

2011-10-30T13:40:00.001-07:00

Swings and roundabouts

When I was young it was quite a lark

Walking in the park

Playing with Swings and roundabouts

Now I am older, and it’s a different park

And a different type of lark,

Still playing swings and roundabouts!

Some days it all about change,

Other’s high and lows.

Yet all still swings and roundabouts!

Just remember the lark

You had whilst walking in the park

Playing with swings and roundabouts.

So when things are blue

And you don’t know what to do

Just go the park and play with swings and roundabouts

Life thats gone before

2011-09-13T08:07:00.001-07:00

Poetry seems to be my muse today, this is one I wrote earlier

Life that's gone before

As Isit here upon the bench,

Watchingthe waves crash against the shore,

Ican't help but reminisce

Aboutthe life that's gone before.

Thedays before the need of wheels,

WhenI could run bare foot upon the sand

Thehard wet & the silky soft

Contrastingsensations beneath my toes.

Thewind whips my hair around,

Hidingthe tears that sting my eyes

Thisfeeling has taken me

Alittle by surprise.

Apang for something lost,

Or isit something that never begun.

Igaze on at others

Doingthe things I cannot do.

Thisis a passing phase,

Theclosing of the door.

Todayit's time to let go

Ofthat life that went before.

I'm a woman.

2011-08-12T11:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've posted here. I blame school holidays and ill health :) I've come back with a bang. This is a poem I wrote today.

I'm a woman

Look at me!

Look at my curves and welcoming lips.

Come over here and feel me.

I'm a woman, you'll see.

Kiss me here, just here on the neck.

Now run your hands over my voluptuous breast.

I'm a woman can't you feel.

Now try feeling down deep.

I'll give you what you need

My fiery passion could boil seas.

Come, I'm a woman

And I'll bring you to your knees.

Play with me and touch me

Feel what I can do to do you.

That’s it caress me

Now you can feel I'm a woman.

What else I'm perceived to be,

Ultimately I'm a woman

And I have certain needs.

Give in and enjoy me.

© Kristina Jackson 2011

Sample Sunday - In the graveyard

2011-07-10T00:56:00.000-07:00

This excerpt comes from one story in my collection of Paranormal stories 'Tales from the Beyond.' Available on Amazon for Kindle and Smashwords for all other formats of e-books.

In the Graveyard.

Ania stood there amongst the lengthening shadows of evening. Sniffing the air like a rabbit. Drinking in the fragrances of that place; the earthy smell of stone, sweet scented roses, clean aroma of Yew trees. The total sensation was one of tranquillity. She wore the calmness like a cape; wrapping it around her, soothing her stress. Under her fingers she felt finished wood of the gate, and at her feet the gravel crunched as she pushed it open. Stepping into the relative darkness of a Yew tree lined path to a church, it felt like she had entered another world.

Ania walked along the path, her pashmina trailing over her arm, currently discarded. Her light strappy dress was all that was needed. There was a hush, outside sounds were muted, like they were coming from far off. Muffled by some un-seen barrier. The sound of her sandals along the path was the loudest sound. She started looking at the gravestones, seeing the dates and ages of those who passed on. Pangs of sadness swept over her as she saw infants only a few months old, at rest beneath the rich dark soil. A wane smile flirted with her lips as she saw the stone of an old couple, both well into their 80’s who had died within a few weeks, buried together within the same plot. As she progressed nearer the end of the Yew trees she shivered, pulling her pashmina onto her shoulders, snuggling into it. She touched the intricate carvings of an old Celtic cross with the tips of her fingers, enjoying the contrasting effects on the stone. Ania became aware of what felt like something playing with the skirts of her dress. She looked around to see any plants nearby, but saw nothing tall enough.

Leaning over the dry stonewall, Ania watched the river curl and bubble around the protruding stones. Its meandering course cut under the Norman tower of the church. Something was distinctively trying to creep up the inside of her thigh. Spinning around there was no one there; it felt too much pressure to be an insect. Shrugging it off, she wandered on.

Under the dark boughs of the Yew trees, crypts stood proud. Some of their lids slightly on a squiff, others with writing so faded you could hardly tell who was laid to rest. Wandering and peering into the gloom, Ania kept looking over her shoulder; no one was there, not even an animal. So what was she feeling?

Editing! The bane of a writers life.

2011-07-08T07:10:00.000-07:00

A grammatically correct and well spelt piece of work is essential. I know I have failings within this department, that is why I have other people in place to check. It seems to me however, indie writers are getting a little too obsessed with editing. I've read some well edited pieces of fiction, what they lack is a sense of rhythm or poetry about them. For me a book should sing, not merely speak. Perhaps there is something of the bard in me. Too many writers are getting caught up in believing a well edited book is the same as well written book. Sometimes editing takes over the storyline. As such we need to be aware of both.

Listen to the inner bard, then put the logic professor's hat on.

Thoughts for the day.

Launching 'Tales from the Beyond' - ebook

2011-06-28T04:13:00.000-07:00

Introducing to you a collection of Paranormal tales. 5 short stories with ghost and strange happenings, but not a vampire or shape - shifter in sight! If you are after a quick read and something slightly different try this collection. Available in e-book format

Available in Amazon UK

Available in Amazon US

Available for other formats in Smashwords

Where am I going with my Writing?

2011-06-25T11:41:00.000-07:00

Where to start this post? I think I shall start it at the beginning. I hit a low point, not depression, but a point where my world had been shaken up and turned on its head. To be honest it was not a singular event that caused the fall, but there was an event, which was the straw that broke the Camels back. We where promised a relocation out of Wales and back to the South of England. We where assured it was a 'dead cert' so when hubby rang me to say he had not got the job, my world fell apart. Whilst I love Wales, it is not suiting me living here. I have no family, no support, no one to help if those extreme circumstances where I need to go to hospital or any of those other similar circumstance. The upside to this is we are a very close knit family unit, downside is well lets just say they out way the advantages to living here. I ended up in a low place. I crawled under my rock last July and stayed there for about 2 months. I started crawling out come end of September, beginning of October.

More accurately I poked my head out and got dragged the rest of the way by two friends. Clive & Sarah. They both independently told me to stop lolly gagging and challenged me to under take Nanowrimo (novel in a month). They'd had got fed up with me going on and on about writing and decided that Nanowrimo would be kill or cure. What I did not realise it had opened Pandora's box.

Sarah told me to write something for her to publish through Ethics Trading, her newly set up Indie Press, my Nano book is still in no state for publication, I wrote Feathers. I did not realise what I was doing, or what I was letting myself in for.

I then decided to try and write another book, which was due to be Whispers, I had not realised a lot of things. I pulled the plug on the release of it, when a couple of Beta readers flagged up some inconsistencies. I realised my mistakes. I've learnt a lot from the launch of Feathers back on the 21st of March this year.

My lovely friend Rik. A retired school teacher who has been helping me no end. Not only learn about my style of writing and improve my quality of writing, but be a support and encouragement. Every time I work with him, I am eliminating the amount of 'red ink' and I have become a better writer. I've always had the grasp of telling a story, but now my writing is enhancing that.

In a few weeks, once I have been through the final edits, Tales from the Beyond will be released. I am releasing this one myself. Whilst I am forever grateful to Sarah for kicking my backside into touch, I have to release this myself. I need to feel I can do this totally by myself. Once I've done that...

So where am I going from here?

It was whilst shopping today in Carmarthen I met a lovely indie author who'd been publishing in paperback for 6 years. I hope my conversation with him will lead him into the dark depths of e-publishing... He got me thinking, hence the reason for writing this post. Where do I want to go from here?

UP!

I want to write more! I want to be able create a living from my writing, I want to improve things for my family and for me. Most of all I want to write because it is my all consuming passion! I want to write because my illness has taken so much, it has allowed me now to fulfil my dream.

Yes I would consider going with e-publisher, yes I would consider going with a 'dead tree' publisher. Yes, I hope Sarah might take some more of my 'feel good' books. I don't believe in putting all my eggs in one basket. As such I'll be writing in different genre's, maybe different publication methods for each genre? I don't know yet. Just give me coffee, chocolate, wine, inspiration and my lovely supportive friends and family and I believe world domination (albeit on a minor scale) is possible.

After dark on Halloween

2011-06-24T11:47:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from one of the stories in 'Tales from the Beyond' due out in a few weeks

After dark on Halloween.

The full moon hung heavily in the sky, not long raised from its day's rest. The moonlight illuminating the sparkling crystals of frost which clung to the grass and rust-coloured autumn leaves. It shone on a lone car winding its way carefully down a country lane, flanked by tall trees casting their eerie shadows. There was the occasional gap where a field gate stood. Owls coasted along the edges looking for their dinner. Let the eye draw in and focus on the car and its journey, for here is the vessel for our tale.

As the car progressed along the narrow lane, its driver turned the music off to concentrate more. The driver’s name is Jenny; there is nothing remarkable about Jenny. She has dark brown shoulder length curly hair, which in the damp was inclined to turn to frizz. She has hazel brown eyes and a slightly dusty coloured skin that perhaps suggests a gypsy type origin. She is 28 years old and works as a receptionist for a company in the nearby town. Jenny is driving back from seeing her sister and new born Nephew, Thor. Jenny has driven the road many times before, but is not used to driving it in the dark, her husband Mick usually doing the driving at night. Jenny made gradual progress until she reached a humpback bridge.

Madness

2011-06-22T07:50:00.001-07:00

With Tales from the Beyond, resting with my editor (my collection of paranormal short stories) I was at a loose end. I sat there in the garden earlier, with a notepad on my knee and pen in my hand. I sat there and wrote down all the ideas for novels / short stories / poetry / real life story etc I could think of. I worked out that I had enough material to keep me writing for years!

Why is this Madness? I've nursed my husband for the last few days with a flu bug, he went back to work today, and I had my daughter of instead! I am half hanging with tiredness, Wimbledon is on distracting me from writing. There I was creating more ideas.

I guess that serves me right for saying that I did not have a challenge in my life & did not know where to go with it..

Tales from the beyond

2011-06-15T08:52:00.000-07:00

Introducing my collection of Paranormal stories

If you would like to know the sort of stories that are going to be in it, download my free story here.

I've got a ghost monk that wants a women, a ghost who is confused, a squadron of ghostly spitfires, and a ghost who is afraid of people. Still with one last tale to write..

Paranormal Flashers

2011-05-21T10:53:00.001-07:00

Paranormal Flashers

For the next fortnight I am hosting some flashers here on my blog. No, don’t start getting excited or phoning the police, these are Fiction Flashers. A bunch of very clever guys and gals have put a story in 100 words or less! Equating to a nice piece of Flash Fiction. If you want to know more about them, just click on their various links. Without further ado, I give you the Paranormal Flashers:

Whispers of Liberty – By Kender MacGowan

He'd heard whispers all night. The war had gone badly for months and yesterdays rout of his battalion left him lost, alone and injured. He'd make his way toward the whispers and they'd vanish. Sometimes he heard men groaning, “don't surrender”, other times it sounded like men screaming, only in a whisper. Crawling all night, he found himself next to a road, and rested as the whispers continued around him. Dawn crept in, the whispers faded and he saw the road sign; “Gettysburg Battlefield, next right.”

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/57211

***************

The Last One – By Tim Ellis

‘You’re the last?’ Drak said.

‘So it would appear,’ Hope replied.

They were stood either side of Drak’s concrete tomb in the underground crypt. Hope had a mallet in one hand and a wooden stake in the other. A finger of moonlight speared its way through the frosted glass ceiling.

‘You may as well put those down. As you can see my tomb is empty.’

‘What will you do for food when I’m gone?’

‘We have supplies.’

‘For how long?’ Hope asked baring her long white neck.

‘Long enough for us to reach for the stars.’

http://timellis.weebly.com/index.html

***************

The Flight (flash non-fiction fiction) - By Alex Canton-Dutari

I threw it in the air, very sure of its return.

When I held out my hand to catch the boomerang, sixty years has passed.

www.terapiacanton.blogspot.com

***************

The Orb Never Lies – By Helmy Kusuma

I saw only white mist. "What does this mean?"

His voice was cold. "Death."

I licked my lips, anxious. "What would happen?"

The mist swirled, scenes emerged. I saw myself inside an ambulance and was sitting next to a stretcher.

"I don't understand. What would happen after that?"

Again, only white mist.

"It doesn't make sense."

Suddenly clouds swirled inside the crystal ball. I saw myself lying on the ground, dead.

"It is definitely ruined. You're bogus."

He smiled wickedly. "The orb never lies."

I look at his dead body. "Handsome, but this new face is not bad. And rich."

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/56911

***************

BRING HER THE HEAD OF LANCELOT - By Anthony Beal

As their legions had ravaged Edinburgh, so would they decimate her prison walls. From the highest window in that ivory stronghold where she languished in dutiful silence, she watched the undead stream across Avalon like consumption incarnate. More potency than she knew remained in the summoning spells she’d invoked.

Splintered castle gates. Screams. Plodding footfalls echoing through stone corridors, heralding the coming of her true lords. Moist gratitude awaited their affection between her thighs.

Mordred’s corpse led them to her room. The reanimated vanquished crowded inside, surrounding the nude, kneeling maiden. Fleshless zombie hands found warmth.

Guinevere wet her lips.

END

http://funerealdiseasesofthemind.webs.com/
Available now at BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com, Books-A-Million.com, and elsewhere

***************

Enid – By David Thomas

“That your ball”

“My ball”

“Yes your ball, good girl”

“Me good girl”

“Do you love mammy?”

“My ball”

“Do you love mammy?”

“Mammy my ball”

“Can I play?”

“My ball”

“Mammy play yeah?”

“Me good girl”

“Yes good girl”

“Ball mine”

“Yes yours, do you love mammy?”

“Mine”

“Do you love mammy?”

The ball dropped from his hands, the clairvoyant’s voice changed.

“She’s gone”

The woman leaned down and picked it up and whispered to herself.

“Mammy still loves you”.

Book coming soon.

***************

Surprise Party – By Alex Knight

Casey paused outside the door, certain she heard conversation on the other side of it. Had her friends found out she would be home from her book signing tour and planned a surprise birthday party?

She remembered her last birthday. Blowing out the candles she'd wished to be as famous as King, Hodge, Patterson and Comley; it happened overnight.

As she entered the apartment they shouted, "Surprise!"

The horrific scene immobilized her. Ghouls and demons awaited, arms outstretched.

Smiling, he stepped forward.

Belatedly, she also remembered offering to sell her soul to the devil.

www.alexknight.ca

***************

The haunted house by Vickie Johnstone

In the dark in the park, by the tree that was the favourite of the lark, the haunted house glared. It spied through black windows, behind which shadows flittered. Footsteps unheard outside passed unbidden within. A spider stretched its legs across the stone floor on which no man had walked for years. Behind the heavy front door there breathed the aches of the ages. Long gone and long forgotten. A silent bell rang out suddenly. The silent clock ticked. The master of the house arose as he had done a few hundred years before. Yawning, he walked outside the shimmering.

Forever by Vickie Johnstone

She follows the line of the wavering stream below the glow of the shimmering moon. Moonbeams speckle irredescent across her upturned face. Her fingertips trace the cold, dewy grass. Her bare feet tred softly. She relishes the quiet of the night. Going to meet her lover by the tree with their names carved. The wind blows her dark hair. Feels like spiders scuttling across her cheek. Almost there. She sees him waiting. The mark of the noose never fades from his neck. Instinctively, she reaches to check the same welts on her own. She smiles. Their love overcomes even death.

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/vixie

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The child – By Annarita Guarnieri

I loved to take an evening stroll through the nearby wood. Usually, I met nobody there. But that evening, as the sun set, I saw her, a small child, three or four years of age, her back to me, staring at the horizon. Surprised, I walked up to her, put a hand on her shoulder.
“Hi, hon. Where’s your mom?” I asked.
She did not react, at first, then she turned.
Her coal red eyes and her elongating, sharp fangs where the last thing I saw, as she flew at my throat.

Ghost hunting – By Annarita Guarnieri

“Find me…” he whispered, night after night.
Translucent, he stoo in a corner of my bedroom, staring at me, a gaping hole in his breast.
“Find me…” But I was just a child.
I decided to go ghost hunting, in the old, ruined cellars. I clambered over fallen stones and masonry, in the dark, deeper in the bowels of the house.
And at last i found him: old bones on the ground, with an equally old rifle lying a few steps away.
“Thank you” he whispered, that night.

http://www.facebook.com/pages/AnnaritaautoreGuarnieri/122381707837830

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The haunted house – By Kristina Howells

It was one house that no one would ever go near.

Why? asked the boy.

It all goes back to a time when Lady Calais was found dead in her living room by her lover.

It was a sad affair. No-one really knew the truth behind her death.

Her husband a fisherman was away at sea. It was thought that he had came home unexpected.
Her lover was in the house.

They argued and the lover left in a hurry.

A few days later he had returned to find her dead.
Her ghost now haunts the old house.

(c) Kristina Howells 20th May 2011

http://kristinahowells.wordpress.com/

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The burial – By Federica

Hurry, I had to hurry! The ground was hard, under the oak, and the night was dark. But I had to dig, to bury the body I had dismembered, torn apart. I threw in the hole an arm, a leg, then one foot still stuck in its shoe, the head ... I covered everything, made sure no one could discover the crime and went back home, tail wagging. For a few days, the girl would look for her doll, but then she would forget about it, and I would be safe!

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Federica-Leva-Cantico-sulloceano-e-altri-Romanzi/188972321132854

www.federicaleva.com

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Never doubt the cards – By Kristina Jackson

The curling smoke of sweet musty incense hung in the air, a heavy velvet cloth was laid on the table. The candlelight reflected off of the tarot cards laid upon the table:

“What do see?”

“There will be changes in your life, sudden and dramatic ones.”

“Where does it say that?”

“Here, The Tower.”

“What else do they say?”

“They show an ending and a beginning.”

The person who was having the reading done gets up, leaves the room, stating ‘mumbo jumbo’. He walks outside, not looking where he’s going and gets hit by a bus. Never doubt the cards.

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/kristinajackson

Aces High

2011-05-14T12:42:00.000-07:00

From my forth coming collection of short stories Whispers. Released on the 21st of May

Aces High

T-shirts were all that was needed. The heat of the stone brought with it the aroma of night - scented plants. Overhead bats swooped and ducked picking off flying insects in the deepening twilight sky. A group of young men all in their late twenties, all having known each other since primary school days, sat on benches outside a pub. They sat there, watching the bats fly overhead; and as the shadows lengthened and the new moon rose in the sky, they drank beer and chatted about the days events.

“What did you think of St Govan’s Chapel?” Scott asked.

“Tranquil,” said Jake. “You could almost hear the chant of prayer.”

“Spooky if you ask me,” laughed Bert. “No wonder you’re in the Am. Dram. Society Jake. Always so fanciful,” Bert teased.

“I could not find the rock that was meant to have rang like a bell,” replied Jim.

“Ha!” Scott said. “You were making enough noise pretending to be marauding pirates. I am surprised the whole of the car park above did not hear you!” Scott continued, with a wide grin on his face.

“It does make you wonder though why anyone, even some holy monk, would choose such a secluded spot to live and worship. Imagine having to climb those steps when the rain is lashing and the wind is whipping around your cassock. It was tricky enough today. It’s a dry warm day, with barely a breath of breeze,” Jake said.

“Fanciful!” murmured Bert.

“How about you fancy getting us another round then Bert, before the pub calls last orders,” Jake retorted laughing.

“Now that’s one thing I am happy to be fanciful about, another pint!” Bert said good-humouredly and sauntered off towards the direction of the rose - surrounded door leading into the pub.

POTS - the beast (a poem)

2011-05-12T06:33:00.000-07:00

POTS the beast

Please don’t look at me in pity,
It is kind of you, but no.
This is just the way it is,
Likely to stay, not likely to go.

I know you feel helpless,
Sometimes I do too.
It’s not all bad, no not all.
Even if it means regularly ending up on the floor.

I can write and read,
I can live and feel the summer breeze.
If you see me crying, don’t make a fuss
Just come right over and give me a hug.

No I am not brave, OK maybe a little bit
But that just me and the way it is.
I don’t mind concern it shows you care
Helping get up if you happen to be there.

Support me and cheer me up
If I happen to be low,
Just let me ride with the ebb and the flow
Don’t try and change it at all.

If you think I am being stubborn,
Stop long enough to ask why
Perhaps I am feeling scared,
It does happen you know.

Here I am just being me
Living here with my raging beast
POTS and its associates are pains for sure
But there are worst beasts to endure.

© Kristina Jackson 2011

Whispers

2011-05-07T09:34:00.000-07:00

Here is an excerpt from the story, that carries the same name as the book. Whisper's (the short story collection) release date has slipped a little as I have battled with not having enough spoons to deal with writing and the challenges life has thrown at me. If you have not heard of the spoon theory, please take a moment to read it here. I don't have Lupus like the lady telling the story, but the theory applies for those of us that battle chronic illness. On really bad days it take me two spoons just to get out of bed and make coffee. Let alone getting kids ready etc. Everyday something has to give, usually it is the housework, clean but never really tidy! When chaos happens and life throws hassles to deal with, lots of things give, including my body! Oh the joy of living with POTS.

As the result I have slipped the release date to the 21st of May. To keep you going until then, here is the promised excerpt.

Whispers

Jane had always wanted to visit the church at Nevern, with its Celtic crosses and bleeding yew trees, ever since she had read about it in her last visit to the area. So when the opportunity for a weekend away with her friends and brother came, she took it. They all had organised to come to the pub in Nevern for dinner that evening so Jane took the chance to come and see the church. She left a message for her friends; she had then taken a taxi and gone to the church. A feeling of total tranquillity washed over Jane, as she stepped through the churchyard gate and into the yew tree lined path, at the church of Nevern. She stood there breathing in the smell of old stone, yew trees and also carried on the air was the hint of sweet fragrance, coming from the night stock plants from nearby cottage. It was early evening, and still barely dark outside the churchyard yet within the yew tree lined path it was almost as dark as full night. It was a soft velvety darkness, relaxing and calming.

Jane walked a short way up the path to try and find the Yew tree that was supposed to bleed, but in the dim light it was hard to make out a distinct colour but she could see the dark ooze seeping down the tree. She became aware of the sound of hurrying feet and swishing of long skirt, she thought one of her friends had come to find her, as they had turned up at the pub early. When she looked there was no one there, putting it down to someone passing in the road outside, she thought no more of it and went to explore the churchyard further. She walked up the yew tree lined path, towards the church itself, coming out into the early evening summer twilight. She walked over to the dry stonewall, and looked over into the river, low at the moment, which swept in and under the Norman Tower of the church. Relishing in the peacefulness this enclosed holy ground offered, Jane decided to explore a little further. Jane was looking at the Celtic cross, by the church entrance, when she again heard the hurrying of feet and swishing of a long skirt, looked down the path to the gate and could see no one on the path, or passing the gate. She turned back to continue with her exploring. Jane thought she saw a fleeting shadowy figure pass around the back of the church. Jane put this down to nothing more than the lengthening of evening shadows. She continued to walk to the back of the church, peering into the gloom at tumbled grave stones, and raised crypts, nestled under the boughs of the tall yew trees. As she walked she could hear what sounded like a faint whispering, perhaps just the breeze through the trees. When Jane reached the back of the church. She sat on the grass embankment below an enclosed area of family plots tombs and watched the bats swooping, silhouetted against the indigo coloured sky.

Who's there

2011-05-01T01:15:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from my forth coming short story collection Whispers, a collection of paranormal short stories, full of ghostly apparitions and odd happenings.

Who's there?

I sat there with a duvet over my head, pretending I could not hear what sounded like footsteps coming down the hall of the house I had just moved into. ‘Who’s there?’

My heart was pounding and I had broken out into a cold sweat. I curled myself into a ball, like a frightened child, and just sat there listening. Eventually I could hear them no more, so I put it down to too much coffee, too much stress and & creaking floor boards in an unfamiliar house.

I must have fallen asleep in the ball I curled myself up in, for I woke in the middle of the night with cramp in my legs, and the duvet still over my head. By the time morning came around it seemed just like a bad dream, apart from being a bit stiff and achy nothing to tell from it. So I prised myself out my bed and went in search of kettle and coffee. The box I needed was not in the kitchen and after searching the rest of the house, I found it in the spare bedroom, typically the last place I looked. OK the house is not huge, and it did not take long, but just saying. I went to the kitchen, filled the kettle plugged it in, and “poof” a bang and a puff of blue smoke and my thoughts of coffee went up, quite literally in smoke. So I trundled back up stairs, profanely cursing all electrical instruments threw some clothes on and went in search of the nearest coffee shop, then onto finding a new kettle.

Feathers is still 98p, click the link on the side of the page

Spring fling - books of good value!

2011-04-23T05:20:00.000-07:00

Whispers proposed release date

2011-04-21T09:42:00.000-07:00

I am proposing to release Whispers, my collection of paranormal short stories, full of ghostly apparitions and odd happenings on the 14th of May.

I am also scheduling the release of my debut novel, The Fools Journey, around Hallow'een this year too!

I know I seldom mention my health here, but my illness POTS is getting worse and causing me to be even more debilitated. So I am preserving all energies now and putting them into my writing.

Feathers on sale for the Spring Fling

2011-04-20T00:15:00.001-07:00

Feathers my collection of light romance short stories, is on sale for 2 weeks now 98p / $1.25

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Feathers/dp/B004S7EZBG
http://www.amazon.com/Feathers-ebook/dp/B004S7EZBG
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/47316

Shadows of my mind - Sample Sunday

2011-04-16T11:39:00.000-07:00

May is seeing the release of my next collection of short stories called Whispers. Whispers is a collection of paranormal short stories. Full of ghostly apparitions and odd happenings. This weeks excerpt is from one of those stories...

Shadows of my mind

As the clinging grey fog rolled lazily in off of the sea, eating distinguishable landmarks as it went, leaving nothing but perceived emptiness in its wake, Claire clambered along the cliff path heading down towards her car parked at Cwmtydu on the West Wales coast. She trod carefully trying not to slip in the damp grass or stumble over a protruding rock. Within minutes she could barely see her hand in front of her face. What had started off as a warm spring morning had turned into a soul-destroying afternoon. Not only did the fog seem to pull her spirits down, it made everything feel lonesome and silenced. Even the crash of the waves on the rocks below seemed distant and far off.

As she walked along Claire became increasingly anxious. There was still a fair way to go back to the car park, where her warm and safe car was. The fog was making things treacherous, not only under foot, but visibility too. One wrong step and she would be hurtling over the edge to meet her end in the watery depths below. For a while Claire made steady but sure progress, the going was fairly level, the fog drifted enough to see the vague outline of the path in front of her. Taking advantage of one of the thinner parts of the drifting fog she sat on a rock and opened her backpack up. She found the sealed packet with the map and compass in it, strung the compass around her neck, and checked the map and neatly installing it back in the backpack. She was just getting up when she thought she heard faint sounds coming from below. Carefully she edged forwards, the fog taking this opportunity to come back in thicker than before. She stopped; hardly daring to breathe, because in the deadened silence of the fog her breathing sounded loud, as if amplified and all other sounds were muffled. She stood there and listened.

Whispers

2011-04-11T08:30:00.000-07:00

I am pleased to announce that May, will see the release of my next collection of short stories called Whispers. These are a far cry from Feathers, so I suggest if you don't like spooky happenings, I would buy Feathers instead.

This is the cover to Whispers

This is an excerpt from a story called Whispers.

Whilst she sat there, Jane suddenly came over feeling very cold, she heard the hurrying footsteps and flapping skirts; this time she was certain she had seen the shadowy figure pass by her. The coldness passed, feeling very disquieted she went to get up, to leave, in the same moment the coldness returned. Jane was feeling icy and clammy; she also felt a pressure pushing against her, trying to weigh her down. Jane managed to break free, she ran down the opposite side of the church, from the entrance, down the narrow path that led by more recent graves, just before she reached the point, where the path turned back down past the front of the church and downside the river, Jane tripped over something. Looking she could not see what she had tripped over, the path was clear. She felt fear rising. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her breath came quickly between dry lips, and her tongue seemed to stick to her mouth. She tried to get up; she put pressure through her ankle, giving a small cry of pain. Before she could try and get up again, Jane became aware of the hurrying footsteps and swishing skirts. This time they seemed more frantic. Jane pushed up, but her ankle gave out from under her, then there was a weight was on her back. Jane could smell a stench like rotting flesh, and hear a wheezing rattle of breath. Jane struggled against an invisible force; trying to buck off the weight that seemed to be pinning her down. She felt a rope go around her throat, a thin rope, more like a cord. Her fingers scrabbled at nothing, but her bare, sweat soaked skin. Jane tried to scream, but the rope tightened, choking her breath from her. She became distantly aware of her name being called, but darkness took her.

This is first draft, it may get spookier yet...

When hope and fear collide - Sample sunday

2011-04-10T01:02:00.000-07:00

I am considering releasing an e-book of the poetry I have written. So for sample sunday today, I thought I would post one up.

When hope and fear collide

The Kaleidoscope of emotion

That spins before your eyes.

When the very real feelings

Of hope and fear collide.

When one is not distinguishable from the other.

What is hope? What is fear?

To have one is to have the other.

What an incredulous wave to ride.

Yet the ultimate goal is the same

The path half of joy; half of pain.

Yet the merry go round spins on,

When hope and fear collide.

©Kristina Jackson

Meet Beth Barany and her book Henrietta, the legendary Dragon Slayer

2011-04-04T03:21:00.000-07:00

Bio
Beth Barany has been making up fantasy and adventure stories all her life. She writes to empower girls and women with her kick ass heroines who have to save the world against great odds. In her off hours, Beth enjoys cardio kickboxing, stick yoga, reading and watching movies with her husband, author and musician Ezra Barany.
Beth Barany can be contacted through http://www.bethbarany.com or at beth@bethbarany.com.

Book Blurb
Henrietta, the legendary Dragon Slayer of the Kingdom of Bleuve, can’t stomach the thought of one more kill. Yet, in order to save her dying mentor, she must go on one last quest. But will the quest for the healing stone be derailed by misfit companions, seasickness, and an ego maniacal king? And will she be able cut past her conscience and kill the dragon?

Excerpt from book

Chapter One—Invitation

Battle-hardened and brave

Ready for the fight

Henrietta the Dragon Slayer

Swings with all her might

—From the chorus of the Song of the Dragon Slayer

Henrietta fast-walked away from the tavern, fists clenched so hard they hurt. At two paces from the forest edge, the ground crunched in the black night behind her. Even with her ale-fogged brain, she sensed the presence of a man, smelled on him soot, leather and metal, and knew he was armed, but wore no armor.

She didn’t have time for this.

“What do you want?” Henrietta whirled to face the thrill seeker, her long sword drawn, her long red hair whipping across her chilled cheeks. Above her head, the bitter wind keened through the forest trees.

The man hovered five feet-lengths away from her, out of sword reach, his face shadowed by the light of the tavern behind him. “I heard your story back there.” His voice, thick with a foreign accent she couldn't place, held no compliment. “I hear you’re looking for a new quest.”

“Who gave you that idea?”

“The Song of the Dragon Slayer.” The man's tone was flat.

So he wasn’t a fan. She didn’t care. She cared that he didn't move any closer. Empty hands at his sides, a sheathed long sword at his belt, he was broad shouldered and taller than her by half a head.

She re-sheathed her sword reluctantly. “So? What does that have to do with anything? It's only a song.”

“A song about you. That is why you must come with me now.” He stepped toward her, his face still hidden by darkness.

“No, I must not go with you. Leave me be!” she said annoyed and angry. There was a thrill seeker in every town. Facing him, she stepped back to have room to swing her sword if necessary, her hand waiting on her sword pommel. “There's plenty of others in that tavern to harass.”

She didn’t want to play “who's the best warrior” just now. The drink had touched her head more than usual, without its usual lovely numbing affect. “Who are you anyway? No, I don't want to know. Just leave me be.”

“I am a knight, doing his duty. Assessing.” He didn't move any closer.

Like she needed to know that. Then she opened her big mouth.

“If you’re a knight, where’s your armor?” As soon as she heard herself, she knew that was a dumb question.

“I do not need armor for this.” He said the words as if she wasn't worth a gnat on sheep’s berries. “You will come with me now,” he repeated.

He dared to order her?

“I will do no such thing. Weren’t you listening in there?” She gestured toward the tavern where she'd just told and re-enacted her tale. A thrill seeker who ordered her? What was this nonsense. “I did my quest. Now leave me to my peace.”

He didn't budge his bulky frame. What was he waiting for? A royal invitation to depart?

http://www.amazon.com/Henrietta-Dragon-Slayer-Kingdoms-ebook/dp/B004P8K292

Sample Sunday Cookoff

2011-04-02T09:31:00.000-07:00

My fellow indie authors are offering you a chance to read some stories, at the same time tempting you with some great recipes. Below are the links to recipes :) Enjoy!

Sible Hodge - Marinara Pasta

Mel Comley - Chicken Curry in a hurry

Mira - Confit de Canard

Tania - Goat's Cheese & Swiss Chard Tart

Traci - Mediterranean Chickpea Salad

Linda - Food to die smiling for

Val - Berries and Brownies Sundae

Why not treat yourself to a nice e-book to read, whilst you are there :)

Al Boudreau - In the memory of greed.

2011-03-31T11:23:00.000-07:00

Today I am introducing Al Bourdreau. I am currently reading In the memory of greed, and currently up to chapter 16, and enjoying it very much.

About the Author

A promoter of Indie Authors everywhere, Al Boudreau has traveled the world, exploring a multitude of countries. First hand knowledge of the locales his characters traverse lends a richness unattainable by simple research alone. This author also maintains a keen eye on geopolitical events, pushing the envelope to make his novels come alive. His fiction is based on the real world and the hidden truths buried beneath its surface.

About the book

Murhkin Mocado, a twenty-nine year old, California native had it all ... good job, good looks, and a solid handle on life. While leaving work one afternoon, a seemingly freak occurence changes his life forever. His decision to take action, a stunning attempt to save lives, carries unexpected repercussions. By the time day turns to night, he is charged with murder, set up for a crime he didn't commit.
Joelle Barstow, a star within the industrial espionage community for well over a decade, was hand-picked fresh out of college by a private intelligence agency. The confident agent is cast deep inside an operation involving big business and government. She finds her skills pushed to the limit while attempting to navigate this dangerous world of greed and power.
As their paths cross, Barstow attempts to warn Mocado of just how dangerous his plight really is. Mocado, manipulated by those who framed him, initiates a chain of events leading to one of the worst man-made, ecological disasters in history.
Will Barstow unearth truths required to bring those responsible to justice? Will Mocado escape their clutches? This mystery/thriller takes the reader on a rapid-fire adventure beginning in the United States, careening through the breathtaking splendor of Ireland, and culminating in Kenya, one of the most exotic countries within the boundary of Africa's "Dark Continent."

Available at

Amazon UK
Amazon US

Meet Debbie Bennet - Hamelin's Child

2011-03-29T01:49:00.000-07:00

Author Bio

Debbie is a middle-aged boring civil servant with a secret life as a writer...

She's worked in law enforcement for over 25 years, in a variety of different roles, which may be why the darker side of life tends to emerge in her writing. If she makes enough money selling books, perhaps she'll be able to afford counselling instead.

Book Blurb

Michael Redford died on his seventeenth birthday – the night Eddie picked him up off the street, shot him full of heroin and assaulted him.

Now he’s Mikey and he works for Joss. With streaked blond hair and a cute smile, he sleeps by day and services clients at night. Sometimes he remembers his old life, but with what he’s become now, he knows there is no return to his comfortable middle-class background.

Then he makes a friend in Lee. A child of the streets, Lee demands more from friendship than Mikey is prepared to give. But the police are closing in on them now and Mikey’s not sure anymore who he really is – streetwise Mikey or plain Michael Redford.

Time’s running out and Michael has to find some answers …

A thriller set in the seedy world of London's drug rings, this book contains strong scenes and adult material.

Opening Sample

Michael Redford died on his seventeenth birthday – the night Eddie picked him up off the street, shot him full of heroin and assaulted him.

Michael had been drinking steadily all night, matching Jenny’s Breezers with export-strength lager, and when he saw Jen wrapped around his mate’s brother across the dance floor, he didn’t feel at all inclined to slow down. Totally oblivious to observers, they were all hands and lips – a human octopus of limbs on the red chesterfield sofa with Jenny’s long dark hair covering both their faces. She’d dropped an E in the toilets; he could tell by the shine in her eyes and the way she moved when they’d been dancing earlier – she always came onto him when she was high, then pulled away when he got interested. Michael kicked the pillar next to him in disgust. He hated nightclubs anyway.

‘She came with you, didn’t she?’

Michael turned to see a man standing next to him. Blond hair, cream chinos, polo shirt and too much jewellery. He seemed older than the rest of the punters.

The man waved his hand in Jenny’s direction. ‘The girl,’ he added, by way of explanation. ‘I was watching the two of you earlier.’

Michael nodded. ‘Don’t think she’ll be leaving with me.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Ex.’

‘Evidently.’ The man smiled sympathetically. ‘Women are bitches, aren’t they? He’s a dealer, by the way – saw him outside the bogs before. What’re you drinking?’ He pointed at Michael’s empty glass.

Michael shook his head. ‘No, thanks.’ Now fuck off, creep. Something about the stranger made him uneasy.

‘Suit yourself.’ The man shrugged and went off to the bar, returning a few moments later with a pint and what looked like a whisky chaser. He held the pint out. ‘Got you one, anyway. You look like you could use it.’ He had an impressive assortment of gold rings on his hand, which suggested serious money, even if the guy was a poser.

Oh, what the hell… ‘Cheers.’ Michael emptied half of it immediately. He had less than a fiver left from the eighty quid his dad had given him earlier that day and not enough for a taxi home. Still, he couldn’t complain – there weren’t many parents who’d let their underage son celebrate his birthday in a club, and it was largely due to the intervention of his elder sister Kate that they’d let him go at all. On top of that, she’d even managed to talk them into giving him enough money to enjoy it in style. The money had come with strings of course, but listening to the ten-minute evils of drink and drugs lecture had been a small price to pay for his freedom.

Website/Blog

www.debbiebennett.co.uk

UK Amazon Links

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004PLNLWY

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Debbie-Bennett/e/B004PGSOXU

US Amazon Links

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004PLNLWY

http://www.amazon.com/Debbie-Bennett/e/B004PGSOXU

Are 71p books under valuing an authors talents or offering good value for money?

2011-03-28T01:42:00.000-07:00

I do my weirdest thinking around 4am in the morning, as I was woken this morning by one of the kids shouting in their sleep. I was laying there trying to get back off, and the thinking part of my brain decided to take advantage of this lapse when the greater part of my mind was still in slumber and the body at rest.

This morning, just as of now, 9.20am, whilst drinking my second mug of coffee of the day I decided to do a quick flick in to the top 100 in the Kindle UK charts. Out of 100 books, only 38 of those are 1.71 or above. Interestingly enough, I would say 50% of that 38% have books of lower value, higher up the charts. This does beggar the question are we as authors under pricing our works and devaluing our talents just to be seen in the top 100? (20% VAT on all e-books don't forget - so real price of a 1.71 book is 1.49)

Are we under selling our talents as authors pricing this low, the metaphorical version of selling our souls, to achieve grandeur, or are we offering good value for money. I know where I lie on this, I would appreciate your thoughts?

Paralytic Pavlova - Sample sunday cook off

2011-03-25T04:26:00.000-07:00

Grace stood in her kitchen, out the window she could see Ellie, a year old today, playing on the lawn with her Dad. Grace felt a pang of emptiness, she wished her Mum could have been around to see this day. She had Ellie's little friends from Mother and Toddlers group coming over shortly, but she did just have enough time to knock up her Mum's favourite dessert, in memory of her today.

4 Egg whites
8 oz of Caster sugar
1 tsp of Vanilla Essence
1 tsp of Distilled Vinegar
2 tsp of Cornflour

1/2 pint of Double Cream
Cointreau
Mandarins or Orange segments

After weighing the ingredients, Grace beat the eggs whites until the peaks where stiff and shiny. She then slowly incorporated the caster sugar, a little at a time until the mixture came back to the stiff and shiny state, and soft peaks could be easily formed. With a metal spoon, she carefully incorporated the vanilla essence, vinegar and cornflour, giving it a quick blast with the whisk before she put it onto a baking parchment lined tray.

She spooned out the mixture into a circle, she then piled the edges, creating a nest effect. When this was done, she popped it into the over on about 130oc / gas mark 1 and she would be able to leave it there until the party finished in a 2 hours time.

Glancing up at the clock Grace decided to quickly mix the cream mixture together, and then leave it in the fridge & all would be need was to decorate it, once the detritus of the party had been cleared up. Grace mixed the cream until it was very hard, she then slowly whisked in a good measure of Cointreau, adjusting to suit her taste, until the mixture was soft and silky again.

Putting the bowls in the dishwasher and wiping the surfaces, she called Ellie and her husband, Tim, in from the garden to clean up before the party started.

Vowing to herself that the next day, they would drive down and put some flowers on her Mum's grave but tonight honour her memory with this Paralytic Pavlova.

Find out what happened to Grace's Mum with a copy of my short story Anthology Feathers

Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
Smashwords

Links to other great #samplesundaycookoff recipes

http://www.jacodypress.blogspot.com/
http://www.lindasprather.wordpress.com/
http://www.sibelhodge.com/my-blog.php "Discover the recipe for a Chocolate Orgasm!"
http://melcomley.blogspot.com/p/sample-sunday-highlighting-other.html
http://fouryearsfromhome.blogspot.com/ "Recipe for Disaster - Tom Ryan cookies"
http://bettysbloggingplace.blogspot.com/p/march-27th-samplesunday-mine-alone-with.html
http://notasadvertised.blogspot.com/2011/03/romantic-recipe-for-spring-evening.html - Romantic recipe for Asparagus, Watercress and Pan roasted tomato risotto
http://sarahbarnard.co.uk/blog/
http://vmaarten.blogspot.com/2011/03/sample-sunday-sweep-him-off-his-feet.html

Feathers is launched

2011-03-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

Today my book Feathers, an anthology of feel good stories has been launched.

It is available at

Amazon.co.uk
Amazon.com
Smashwords

For £1.71 / $2.99

Feathers is released! - A sample of each story

2011-03-19T13:49:00.000-07:00

Feathers is now released ready for the launch tomorrow. You now can get your copy. I thought to celebrate this monumental event I would post as part of #samplesunday the first paragraph from each story to wet your appetite.

At the feet of a God.

Knit two, purl two came the sarcastic voice droning in my ear. I stifled a snarl, and put a polite grin on my face instead. I continued to work the lace pattern I was working, on the sock I was knitting. Trying to concentrate on putting my yarn over in the right place, whilst the old ladies, smelling slightly of talc chattering like starlings, the annoying sarcastic drone, got bored and then he was called,, into see the doctor. I looked up from my knitting and surveyed the scene. There were babies crying, old ladies talking , men looking sheepish and occasionally the din was broken by a crackling loud speaker announcing the name of someone to see the doctor. The air smelled of a mixture of sweat, talc, baby vomit and cheap aftershave. I looked down at my watch, already thirty minutes past my appointment time. Sighing I picked up my sock knitting, checked my pattern and continued to work the lace pattern again.

Spinning wheels are just for spinning.

‘I am bored’, I complained to my friend Di a few years ago. ‘Morgan, knit socks’ was her simple answer. Another friend Dee backed her up. So I agreed to give it a try. After researching it on the internet I wondered what the heck I had got myself into, I had never knitted anything more than wonky scarves in garter stitch before that. My kit came through the next day, four double pointed needles, yarn which was thinner than the string I had in the cupboard and a complicated looking set of instructions. After a faltering start whilst I learnt what a rib stitch was and how to purl, there was no stopping me. I sat there and beavered away, knitting in the evenings, knitting in the garden and even knitting when I popped around to see my Grandmother. Before long the first pair of socks was formed. A simple pair of socks knit in stocking stitch, and with the thanks to the internet and videos I learnt to turn a heel, pick up stitches and, within a three week period, master a whole host of new skills. Then I was introduced to Ravelry, oh dear, a whole new world opened its doors.

The Sands of Time.

It was the arrival of an invite to a school reunion that was the straw that broke the camels back. Ever since Charlotte’s youngest had started school two years ago, she had felt life slipping her by. Looking at the electronic invite for the umpteenth time, she clicked ‘no’, went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. She sat on the back door step feeling the early February sun warming her and she reflected on her life.

She had married a kind and caring man, not without his faults, but he neither was she. She had two beautiful, well-mannered children. But what did she have to show for her life? If she voiced these opinions aloud she probably would have been considered ungrateful. After all Charlotte lived in a lovely four bedroomed house with sea views from a lot of the rooms. But it was not enough, she did not want an even grander house, well not specifically of course if one came along she would not say no. What she really wanted was to be Charlotte, not someone’s Wife or somebody’s Mother. She wanted friends, not mere acquaintances who, given less than half a chance, would happily rubbish her name behind her back, or merely associated themselves with her in the hopes they would gain from it. She had tried running a few little enterprises over time. Not one of them stuck, none failed, but none succeeded either. Charlotte wanted to stand up and say ‘I did that,’ or ‘That was my work.’ Living where she was now was not helping either. She seemed doomed to stay there. No matter how hard she tried, she could not get used to living there. Just add to the equation the disabling illness she suffered from, she was faced with an uphill climb. Charlotte put her head in her hands and cried. Heart wrenching sobs, which shook her whole body.

With endings come beginnings.

Grace trudged along in the grey and gloomy twilight, on a murky, misty, early November, evening. Her bags were heavy; she shivered inside a cheap flimsy coat, trying to lift an elbow to wipe tears out of her eyes. She walked each laboured step in a trance like state, just focusing on the end point of the door, a few streets away. Anyone looking at her would not have realised that she was in her mid twenties with theoretically all her life ahead of her, instead of this trodden down, weary figure they were now seeing. When Grace reached her journey’s end, a mid terrace house, in a street no different from any other street, she put her bags down on the door step, fumbled with the lock and let herself in.

Ivan.

Ivan sat with his back pressed against one of the megaliths that made up Pentre Ifan, up in the Preseli Mountains in West Wales. It was this place that gave him his name. One translation was ‘Village of Ivan.’ It was were his parents had met all those years ago, now having buried his mother, and his father having long since departed from this realm, he chose this point in his life to go on this personal quest to. He had just turned forty; his once dark hair was slowly being peppered by grey, which only seemed to highlight the vivid icy blue of his eyes. Any amount of women past had said his eyes where as cold and unfeeling as he was. He had now buried the only woman who truly seemed to understand him; he took this quest upon himself to do some long hard thinking. Somehow, inexplicably, which rankled him, he had an urge to be at this place. He had never walked to the burial ground before. He had passed it and heard tales of it, but until now he had never been here. He had heard tales of fairies and of the Dolmen being a gateway into another realm. As a cool and logical man, this held no water with him. Where was the evidence of such tales? It was however a calm and relaxing place. The blue sky was scattered with mackerel scale clouds, the sheep bleated in nearby fields and over-head could be heard the call of buzzards as they soared the air looking for prey. Maybe it was the fact this place was sheltered up in this exposed mountainous place that gave it its esoteric appeal. Maybe this is why the ancestors of these hills had chosen to bury their dead here, a solace, with fine commanding views over Cardigan Bay and the Preseli peaks around. Shouldering his pack, he made his way back down the Nevern and the pub where he was staying.

If you like what you have read, why be one of the first to own a copy? (click on the words to be taken to the page)

Amazon.co.uk link

Amazon.com link

Smashwords link (for other E-book formats)

Who wants to win a copy of my E - Book Feathers?

2011-03-17T10:38:00.000-07:00

EDITED SUBMISSION INFO -

To celebrate the launch of my very first book to be published, Feathers. This will be available in E-book format I am giving you 3 chances to win one of ten books! Of course if you are not lucky enough to win one, you will be able to purchase them either at Smashwords or on Amazon (co.uk & .com) at £1.71 / $2.99

Method one - Guess my second favourite animal (not cats, that my first - hint I am not allowed one in the house) There will be one each available for the first three correct answers.

Method two - Just simply post a comment below. All names and comments will be put into a hat and chosen by the kids ( 6 copies available by this method) I'VE BEEN MADE AWARE THAT SOME PEOPLE ARE UNABLE TO SUBMIT A COMMENT BELOW. I DON'T WANT YOU TO MISS OUT SO YOU CAN EMAIL ME(click the word Email) and it will be put in the hat in the same way. Promise I won't spam you!

Method three - The person I feel has spread the love the most ie share this out. Tweet it with my user id @kj_author so I can keep tabs or tag me if using facebook

You can enter by using all methods or one method only. Winners will be notified here on Monday 21st and I will ask you to contact me privately here so I can give you the smashwords coupon code.

RULES

Please keep the messages clean as the kids will be reading them
Coupon code will only be issued to a valid email address
Have fun and play nice
CLOSING TIME FOR ENTRIES 12PM GMT SUNDAY 20th

Here is the synopsis of Feathers.

Synopsis

Feathers, anthology of light feel good stories, with a strong message of making the most of life, despite adversity.

At the feet of a god – whose feet does Shannon fall at, and where does it lead her?

Spinning wheels are just for spinning – Does anyone still believe in Fairy Tales?

The sands of time – Does Charlotte manage to retrieve her life from the sands of time?

With endings come beginnings – When Graces world falls around her ears, can she strike out and find that beginning?

Ivan – What is in the parcel he receives on Christmas Day and where does it take him?

Feathers is launched in 4 Sleeps

2011-03-17T04:04:00.000-07:00

You can tell I have kids, cant' you!

Still the fact remains on Monday 21st March, that is THIS monday, I am launching my first ever book onto the world wide stage. What is more it is in e-book format, so you can have instantly without waiting for the postman :D This my page at Ethics Trading

http://kristina-jackson.blogspot.com/2011/03/synopsis-of-feathers.html (or just scroll further down the page)

Tomorrow I am going to be announcing a giveaway of several copies of this book, to all the 'winners' I will be giving you a coupon code to be redeemed at Smashwords.com so watch this space in order not to miss out

Meet L.C Evans - We interupt this date ...

2011-03-16T02:44:00.000-07:00

Bio:

Though she now writes novels, L.C. Evans' writing career began with short stories and humorous essays. Her short work was published in a variety of magazines, including Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, Woman's World, and Ladies Circle among many others.

She currently lives in North Carolina with her husband Bob, their three or four Chihuahuas, and grandson, the Boy. Taking on the care and feeding of the Boy has made her a born again soccer mom, who suffers from occasional bewilderment over what kids like these days. When not wrangling the Chihuahuas and the Boy, she writes.

Synopsis for We Interrupt This Date:

Since her divorce a year ago, Susan Caraway has gone through the motions of life. Now she is finally coming out of her shell. Just when she decides on a makeover and a new career, her family members decide she's crisis central. First there’s her sister DeLorean who has come back from California with a baby, a designer dog, and no prospects for child support or a job. As soon as DeLorean settles in at Susan’s home, Susan’s son Christian returns from college trailing what Susan’s mama refers to as “an androgynous little tart.” Then there’s Mama herself, a southern lady who wrote the book on bossy. A secret from Mama’s past threatens to unravel her own peace. But not before Mama hurts her ankle and has to move into Susan’s home with her babies—two Chihuahuas with attitude. Susan would like to start her new job as a ghost tour operator. She would like to renew her relationship with Jack Maxwell, a man from her past. But Jack isn’t going to stand in line behind her needy family.

Sample: Chapter One

If I’d had the sense to say no to Mama, I’d be safely at work right now contemplating the passage of time on the clock over my desk. I’d be planning a quiet celebration of the one-year anniversary of my divorce from T. Chandler Caraway, cheater and emotional abuse expert. Instead I was clomping along the sidewalk of a busy Charleston street wishing there were such a thing as parental divorce.

“Walk more slowly, Susan. I do not have long legs like yours to take such giant steps. And please brighten up your expression. Do you know that if you smile when you walk it will automatically improve your mood?”

“Yes, Mama. I believe you’ve mentioned that before.”

A few thousand times. I wondered if fake smiles counted. Going by my current mood, I doubted it.

My mother hadn’t stopped talking about my shortcomings and my need to plunge back into the dating world since the moment we’d stepped out the door of her condo. And now we were on our way back to my car after a morning spent in her doctor’s office. I sidestepped a herd of tourists and pasted on my blandest isn’t-it-a-beautiful-day smile.

Mama leaned closer and traced one finger down my forearm, lighting up a thousand nerves. I jumped as if she’d poked me with a cattle prod.

“You’re already forty and not getting a moment younger. Shall I tell Stanley you’re interested?” She wore one of those mood-lifting smiles she was always recommending for me.

Resisting a childish urge to throw a fit, I increased my pace, nearly mowing down a touristy-looking couple trying to access the door to a trendy King Street restaurant.

“I declare, you are nothing but rude.” Mama lunged, caught the back of my blouse in her fist, and hauled me to a stop.

I yanked my blouse out of her grasp and ground my teeth so hard it felt like I was about to snap off one of my best molars. “Mama, I love you, but the answer is no. I do not need to energize my social life by going out with guys you dredge up for me. By the way, men named Stanley do not make good dates.”

“Stanley is a wonderful man. I met him at Sunday School.” Since her retirement a few months ago, Sunday School was my mother’s main social outlet. She’d already introduced me to two of her fellow Bible Studiers—a widower closer to her age than mine and Clive, a short, intense fellow who’d asked me if I thought pythons should be allowed as pets in apartment buildings.

“And Stanley is so kind, so devoted to his mama.”

“I’ll bet. Does he wear a polka dot bow tie and part his hair in the middle?”

“You are unfair and biased and plain silly. Let’s have lunch and we’ll talk about it.”

“Of course I am. Unfair, I mean. As well as biased against all men you find for me. And you, Mama, are taking your sweet time as if we have all day to spend discussing this person you found at church when you know I have to get back to work.”

I tried to nudge Mama forward. She displayed all the mobility of a two-ton rock, no doubt still caught up in her fantasy of me strolling hand in hand along the harbor with Stanley-of-the-church.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/hlATSv

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/hxHqW2

You can find more about L.C Evans on her blog http://lcevansauthor.blogspot.com

Synopsis of Feathers

2011-03-15T04:33:00.000-07:00

Synopsis

Feathers, anthology of light feel good stories, with a strong message of making the most of life, despite adversity.

At the feet of a god – whose feet does Shannon fall at, and where does it lead her?

Spinning wheels are just for spinning – Does anyone still believe in Fairy Tales?

The sands of time – Does Charlotte manage to retrieve her life from the sands of time?

With endings come beginnings – When Graces world falls around her ears, can she strike out and find that beginning?

Ivan – What is in the parcel he receives on Christmas Day and where does it take him?

Meet Sibel Hodge - Author of The Fashion Police and other great books

2011-03-14T02:44:00.000-07:00

Bio

Sibel Hodge has dual British/Turkish Cypriot nationality, dividing her time between Hertfordshire and North Cyprus. She is a qualified personal trainer, sports and massage therapist, and writes freelance feature articles on health, fitness, and various lifestyle subjects. Prior to this, she also worked for Hertfordshire Constabulary for ten years.

Her debut novel, Fourteen Days Later, was short listed for the Harry Bowling Prize 2008 and received a highly commended by the Yeovil Literary Prize 2009. It is a romantic comedy with a unique infusion of British and Turkish Cypriot culture. Written in a similar style to Catherine Alliott and Marian Keyes, Fourteen Days Later is My Big Fat Greek Wedding meets Bridget Jones. My Perfect Wedding is the sequel to Fourteen Days Later, although it can be read as a standalone novel.

The Fashion Police is her second novel and was a runner up in the Chapter One Promotions Novel Competition 2010 and voted Best Novel with Romantic Elements 2010 by The Romance Reviews. It is a screwball comedy-mystery, combining murder and mayhem with romance and chick-lit, and the first in a series featuring feisty, larger-than-life insurance investigator, Amber Fox. Written in a similar style to Janet Evanovich and Myron Bolitar, The Fashion Police is Stephanie Plum meets Harlan Coben. The second Amber Fox mystery, Be Careful What You Wish For, will be out soon.

The Fashion Police Synopsis

The Fashion Police was a runner up in the Chapter One Promotions Novel Competition 2010 and nominated Best Novel with Romantic Elements 2010 by The Romance Reviews. It is a screwball comedy-mystery, combining murder and mayhem with romance and chick-lit. Written in a similar style to Janet Evanovich and Harlan Coben, it is Stephanie Plum meets Myron Bolitar.

Amber Fox has been making too many mistakes lately and something's got to give...

For starters, Amber accidentally shoots Chief Inspector Janice Skipper and gets thrown off the police force. The only one who knows the truth about the incident is Amber, but no one will believe her.

After accepting a job as an insurance investigator from her ex-fiancé, Brad Beckett, it turns out that Brad thinks they've still got unfinished business and the job description includes sexual favours that come with a price.

When fashion designer, Umberto Fandango, goes missing, Amber becomes embroiled in a complicated case. But Amber's arch-enemy, Chief Inspector Skipper, is also investigating his disappearance, and it's a race against time for Amber to solve the mystery before Skipper does and get her old job back. And just when Amber thinks things can't get any worse, she's being stalked by some crazy mobsters.

Who is Umberto Fandango? Is he dead? And can Amber stay one step ahead and stay alive?

Exert from The Fashion Police

I stumbled through the doors of Hi-Tec’s plush Hertford office with my rucksack threatening to slide off my shoulder. I juggled two mochacinos and four chocolate muffins with extra chocolate sprinkles in one hand, and two mozzarella paninis and a bottle of sparkling water in the other hand. I’ll admit that the sparkling water was going a bit overboard, but this was a celebration after all.

After I made my way through the empty reception area, which was decked out in soft creams and browns with matching sofas, I swung a left down the corridor that ran past the busy underwriter’s office. Hacker called out a ‘Yo’ as I weaved past him and deposited my feast on my desk – if you could call it a desk; it was more like a slightly oversized coffee table. He sat surrounded by various monitors and computer equipment, arranged in an arc in front of him. It looked like something from the bridge of the Starship Enterprise.

Hacker had to be the least techy-looking guy I’d ever seen. He was black, over six and a half feet tall, with two plaits sticking straight out from the top of his head and a goatee beard. He wore a hoodie three sizes too big, jeans that were so baggy they defied the laws of gravity, and he looked more like a gangster rapper than a computer expert. I’d heard that Brad met him when they were in the SAS together, and he was from somewhere like Haiti or Tahiti – I always got those two mixed up. Rumor had it that even though Brad had started Hi-Tec, he was still involved in his Secret Army Stuff from time to time. I didn’t believe it was just a rumor, though. I knew first-hand about Brad disappearing for months on end.

‘Yo back. Want a mochacino?’ I wiggled a cup in his direction.

Hacker stopped tapping on his keyboard and glanced over at my desk. ‘Don’t you know that stuff will kill you? Your body is a temple.’ He circled his arms in the air and pressed his palms together, slowly bringing his hands to the center of his body, doing some kind of yoga deep breathing.

More for me then, yay. ‘Sparkling water?’

‘That’s more like it.’ He grinned, and a gold tooth shined back at me. ‘How do you stay so thin, eating like that?’

‘I guess I’m just lucky that I’ve got skinny genes,’ I said as I tossed him the water, which he caught with a swift flick of the wrist. ‘Is Brad here?’ I glanced across the corridor to Brad’s empty office.

‘No, he’s at a secret meeting,’ Hacker said as he fiddled around with a weird-looking electronic contraption in front of him, which looked a lot like a mixing deck one might expect to find in a recording studio. ‘He left those files on your desk.’

I picked up the two folders. One was for a Callum Bates, and the other was for a guy named Paul Clark. I’d never heard of Clark, but Callum Bates was a very familiar name. I’d come across him in my days as a young police officer, way back before I’d joined the special operations team. If anything was going down in the area that involved car crime – jacking, theft, cloning, you name it – Callum was involved. I studied the file and chuckled. He’d recently put in an insurance claim for a stolen van. No wonder Brad wanted me to check it out to make sure it was genuine. Callum had probably nicked it himself.

Links to amazon page Amazon US http://www.amazon.com/Fashion-Police-Murder-Mystery-ebook/dp/product-description/B003B3NYS8/ref=dp_proddesc_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&n=133140011&s=digital-text

Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B003B3NYS8/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d0_i1?pf_rd_m=A3P5ROKL5A1OLE&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=0JQVB9NSCDTE8GNWBE2K&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=467128533&pf_rd_i=468294

More can found about Sibel on her website http://www.sibelhodge.com

Sample Sunday - From Feathers due for release on the 21st of March

2011-03-12T07:25:00.000-08:00

These two paragraphs are from two of the short stories from my forth coming book Feathers. This will be released on the 21st of March, the spring equinox. Keep an eye here or my facebook page, for further updates. Here is a little taster, more next week....

At the feet of a God.

Knit two, purl two came the sarcastic voice droning in my ear. I stifled a snarl, and put a polite grin on my face instead. I continued to work the lace pattern I was working, on the sock I was knitting. Trying to concentrate on putting my yarn over in the right place, whilst the old ladies, smelling slightly of talc, chattering like starlings, the annoying sarcastic drone, got bored and then were called, one by one, into see the doctor. I looked up from my knitting and surveyed the scene. There were babies crying, old ladies talking, men looking sheepish and occasionally the din was broken by a crackling loud speaker announcing the name of someone to see the doctor. The air smelled of a mixture of sweat, talc, baby vomit and cheap aftershave. I looked down at my watch, already thirty minutes past my appointment time. Sighing I picked up my sock knitting, checked my pattern and continued to work the lace pattern again.

With endings come beginnings.

Meet Suzanne Tyrpak - Dating my Vibrator and Vestal Virgins

2011-03-11T03:21:00.000-08:00

Suzanne Tyrpak

Bio -

Suzanne Tyrpak ran away from New York a long time ago to live in Colorado. Her debut novel is Vestal Virgin, suspense set in ancient Rome, available as a trade paperback and in all eformats. Her collection of nine short stories Dating My Vibrator (and other true fiction) is available on Kindle, Nook and Smashwords. J.A. Konrath calls it, “Pure comedic brilliance.” Her short story Downhill was first published in Arts Perspective Magazine. Rock Bottom is published in the Mota 9: Addiction anthology, available on Kindle. Her short story Ghost Plane was published by CrimeSpree Magazine. Venus Faded appears in the anthology Pronto! Writings from Rome (Triple Tree Publishing, 2002) along with notable authors including: Dorothy Allison, Elizabeth Engstrom, Terry Brooks and John Saul. Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers awarded her first prize in the Colorado Gold Writing Contest, and Maui Writers awarded her third prize in the Rupert Hughes writing competition.

Dating my vibrator -

Dating My Vibrator and other true fiction is a collection of nine true and almost true short stories all based (unfortunately) on my own experience: dating, divorce, desperation—all that good stuff. After nineteen years of marriage I was thrust into a brave new world of dating: online, offline, standing in line, listening to lines. And I have survived to tell these tales. CAUTION: if you’re contemplating divorce, these stories may convince you to consider marriage counseling. If you’re out there dating, chances are you will relate. OMG! Here’s a scary thought: maybe you’ve met some of these guys. Names have been changed to protect the guilty. Joe Konrath gave it 5 stars and says, “Pure Comedic Brilliance.”

Sample from Dating my vibrator

Downhill

“You’re gonna freeze your hooters off.”

“Don’t worry about my hooters.”

I zip my jacket to my chin, plant my poles and scoot along the trail.

THIS IS NOT A DATE.

I’m here to ski, and nothing else.

I weave through towering spruce and fir. Rabbit tracks disappear into the snow. The schuss of skis tells me Barry’s closing in. He’s wheezing, like a guy who spends too much time at a computer, too much time in front of the TV, too much time behind the wheel of his fully loaded SUV.

I push harder, wind whipping my hair, chilling my face—numbing like a blast of Novocain.

Numb feels good.

Better than feeling mangled, like I have since the divorce. Like I got sucked up by a snow-blower and spit out on the discard pile.

Where’s my ex right now?

Probably with her, sitting in our hot tub at our house.

And here I am in Purgatory. Guess I took a wrong turn and landed in the underworld.

I dig in my edges.

“Wait up,” Barry yells.

I slow down. After all, he did give me the pass.

I pause at the headwall. The trail opens to a run called Paradise.

Pair a dice.

It’s all a crap shoot in this world.

Jagged mountains bite into a sky, so blue that it bites back. I scan the slope, a snowy sheet unfurling on a bed of rock. One wrong move and you could die.

Barry whooshes to a stop, his skis spitting chunks of snow, his cell phone performing Beethoven’s Fifth. “Crap. It’s work.” He turns it off. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if the whole system goes down. I’m not going in.”

He grins at me. I force a smile.

The hooter remark pokes me like a broken underwire.

“Need a break?” Barry asks, breathless like we’ve done something.

This can be brought from Amazon, Smash words and Nook Just .99 cents

Amazon link:http://www.amazon.com/DATING-VIBRATOR-other-fiction-ebook/dp/B003XYFN5M

Vestal Virgins - A Novel

Elissa Rubria Honoria is a Vestal Virgin--priestess of the sacred flame, a visionary, and one of the most powerful women in Rome. Vestals are sacrosanct, sworn to chastity on penalty of death, but the emperor, Nero, holds himself above the law. He pursues Elissa, engaging her in a deadly game of wits and sexuality. Or is Elissa really the pursuer? She stumbles on dark secrets. No longer trusting Roman gods, she follows a new god, Jesus of Nazareth, jeopardizing her life and the future of The Roman Empire.

• New York Times bestselling author Terry Brooks says,

“...a writer of real talent...a promising new voice.”

• New York Times bestselling author Tess Gerritsen says,

“Suzanne Tyrpak weaves a spell that utterly enchants and delights. Her writing is pure magic.”

• A torrid tale of love, honor, and sacrifice pitted against horrific acts of murder, betrayal, and depravity. Rife with intrigue and brimming with exquisite detail, Vestal Virgin is a deftly paced masterpiece of historical fiction. I hope Tyrpak is planning another foray into this ancient world . . . and soon!

— Eldon Thompson, author of The Divine Talisman

Sample from Vestal Virgins

Elissa measured her words, “If this long-lost brother does exist, surely he would have laid claim to the throne by now.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Spittle flew from Nero’s mouth. “My queen is barren. Since the death of our daughter, Poppaea’s womb has been a desert. She’s dry as dirt, at least with me. Why should my bastard brother risk his life by declaring his existence, claiming he’s the rightful heir, when he need only bide his time until my death? What if it’s he who masterminds my assassination?”

Elissa eyed him warily.

“Help me.” Hands open like a supplicant, he approached her. “Conjure up the stinking whore. She knows the truth.”

“I—” Elissa’s voice caught in her throat.

“Do it!”

He moved toward her, pushing her against the wall, the heat of his body causing her to sweat, his breathing, rapid and uneven, rasping in her ear. Reaching above her head, he removed a knife from his collection. A pearl handled secespita, the narrow blade designed for sacrifice.

Elissa opened her mouth to scream.

“Don’t.” Nero pointed the tip of the secespita at her throat. “Your brother plotted with my long-lost brother, didn’t he?”

Elissa shook her head, her eyes focused on the knife.

“I could kill you now,” Nero said. “But I have other plans for you.” He drew the blade over his palm then took her hand in his, gently as a lover, and drew the blade again.

Blood beaded in her hand.

Pressing his palm against hers, he said, “My great-grandfather worshiped an Egyptian queen, dark and powerful like you. Be Cleopatra to my Antony.”

He’s madder than Caligula, Elissa thought.

“I’ll make you immortal. Declare you a goddess, and together we’ll conceive the heir to Rome.”

She tore out of his grasp, ran to the door and flung it open. Blood dripping from her hand, she bolted down the corridor.

It’s 2.99 on Kindle (Coming out in trade paperback on Amazon), Smashwords and Nook

Here’s a link to Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Vestal-Virgin-ebook/dp/B004G093HQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1299770278&sr=1-1

Try before you buy - samples from books

2011-03-10T06:46:00.000-08:00

Probably because I am trying to keep my mind busy with all else that is going on in my life at the moment. I was doing a bit of research on peoples feeling about E-books, whilst at the doctors and in a limited way on Facebook too. One thing people have said is they like to 'dive in and look at random passages before buying, but cannot do that with an ebook'. I did explain that you can download a chapter, but they where of the opinion they may as well download the whole book. So I have proposed this:

I will blog here (on this page)
a) Short Bio about the author
b) Overall book synopsis
c) Sample between 300 - 500 words
d) Image of book
e) Links to amazon page

Before I post again, I will put a link in the page try before you buy, this will then take you back to the original blog post :)

If you are interested please contact me.

Indie & E-book Authors

2011-03-09T04:35:00.000-08:00

If you follow my wyndwitch blog, my general ramblings you will know on a fairly regular basis I will go off on my high horse about something I feel passionate about. Today I am writing here instead, this is to do with writing and part of my writing story.

Sarah Barnard she of Sarah Barnard (the author) and she of the independent publisher invited me to a splendid group on Facebook. Here I have met some fabulous people, some published by traditional means, some self published aka Indie Authors but all have e-books available. There has been masses advances in ebook's since I got given my first e-reader a few years ago, and with the introduction of the Kindle (far superior than anything else in my opinion) self publishing and reaching your target audience has become more of a reality thanks to Amazon. It wound me up no end when you see people 'dissing' the quality of self published authors, now I am a proud owner of a few indie author e-books, and it is refreshing to see works by so many lovely writers.

So why not next time you are buying an ebook look at buying one from a less known author, take a chance, live a little, you never know what you may gain. To make your life a little easier I have listed here some authors of ebooks and their Amazon ASIN's, to make your search easier

I thought I would give you a bit more of Ivan .....

2011-02-27T05:05:00.000-08:00

Ivan

Ivan sat with his back pressed against one of the megaliths that made up Pentre Ifan, up in the Preseli Mountains in West Wales. It was this place that gave him his name. One translation was ‘Village of Ivan’. It was were his parents had met all those years ago, now having buried his mother and his father having long since departed from this realm, he chose this point in his life to go on this personal quest to. He had just turned forty; his once dark hair was slowly being peppered by grey, which only seem to highlight the vivid icy blue of his eyes. Any amount of women past, said his eyes where as cold and unfeeling as he was. He had now buried the only women who truly seemed to understand him; he took this quest upon himself to do some long hard thinking. Somehow, inexplicably, which rankled him, he had an urge to be at this place. He had never walked to the burial ground before, passed it and heard tales of it. But until now he had never been here. He had heard tales of fairies and of the Dolmen being a gateway into another realm. As a cool and logical man, this held no water with him. Where was the evidence of such tales? It was however a calm and relaxing place. The blue sky was scattered with mackerel scale clouds, the sheep bleated in near by fields and over head could be heard the call of a buzzard as he soared the air looking for his prey. Maybe it was the fact this place was sheltered up in this exposed mountainous place that gave it its esoteric appeal. Maybe this is why the ancestors of these hills had chosen to bury their dead here, a solace, with fine commanding views over Cardigan Bay and the Preseli peaks around. Shouldering his pack, he made his way back down the Nevern and the pub where he was staying.

On his way down he came across a rocky pool, there were mossy rocks, with green feathery ferns growing out. Tufts of grass grew between the rocky boulders; scurry creatures could be heard within the secret holes. He sat on a rock by the pool. Taking his boots off his dipped his toes in the water, watching the mountains around him reflected in the water, creating a web of beauty and intrigue. He was lost in the moment of it all, feeling like he could dive into waters and be up in the sky with mountains all at once. Where earth and water seemed to become air. So lost was Ivan in the illusion of it all, he almost failed to see the sun beginning to dip in the sky, between a gap in the mountains, the sky was beginning to get a pink tinge, and the air started to turn quite chill. It was only the chill wind on his bare toes, which brought Ivan out of his reverie and made him aware he was still a long way from warmth and shelter. The wind was picking up and the air smelt faintly of rain to come. Sinking his feet back into warm socks and dry boots he stomped off down and towards the welcome bar and warm fire at the journeys end.

Spring equinox - 21st March its release day!

2011-02-25T02:21:00.000-08:00

I have taken the final leap, and yesterday I agreed a release date, you can find where to buy it here , well at least be able to buy after the 21st of March.

I am all excited now, watch out for #Samplesundays on twitter. You can follow at @KJ_author

My Bio

2011-02-24T07:17:00.001-08:00

Bio

“One day you will write your own book, just let your heart guide you”. Those were the immortalised words of my teacher in the 5^th Year of Primary School; I was 8 at the time. I’d just had a short story published in the school magazine, and won a prize of a book for my privilege. I knew I had wanted to write since I could write sentences. 28 years later I am realising that dream.

I am a wife, a mother of two and owner of 2 cats and 1 dog. One of my cats seems to make certain that I stay sat at my laptop long enough to get at least some words down every day, in a way only a cat knows how. I had avoided the urge to fulfil my dream because of lack of self-confidence. Then fate started to impose its views; over the last few years I have become disabled by a condition known as Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, POTS for short. It basically means my body does not like standing up; as a result it makes me lie back down again, often in dramatic and swift ways. On bad days even making a cup of coffee is a challenge, trust me this challenge I would crawl over red-hot coals to achieve! It has meant doing the other things I have done in the past, have become impossible. I was wondering what direction I should send my life in. Then in 2010 I got some gentle, and not so gentle encouragement to write. I partook in Nanowrimo, and this event had the equivalent effect of opening Pandora’s box. Now there is no going back, I am officially addicted to writing.

There are many things that influence my writing. The fact I now have to use a wheelchair and can no longer run and play with kids, go walking or even go shopping easily! Also the places I have visited, and the people I know. I also have many hobbies and I am generally a creative person, so you never know what you may come across in my writing, spinning wheels are after all for spinning and not pricking your finger on!

Another version

2011-02-23T06:41:00.000-08:00

MK - given up which mark we are on now :D

2011-02-23T05:43:00.000-08:00

MK2 image cover

2011-02-22T06:07:00.000-08:00

Image cover first draft

2011-02-22T04:11:00.000-08:00

This is the first draft for the image cover of my forth coming book; a compilation of short stories. The image is where one of the stories starts out from, a place called Pentre Ifan. It needs some more work, but am quite pleased with myself for achieving this far.

An insight into Ivan

2011-02-17T08:59:00.000-08:00

I am passionate about many thing, tarot being up there with the best of them. I have created a short story using some randomly drawn cards, using the properties of these cards to shape the story, with a little bit of artistic license to draw the story on. This is an exert from the short story, can you tell which card he is?

Ivan sat with his back pressed against one of the megaliths that made up Pentre Ifan, up in the Preseli Mountains in West Wales. It was this place that gave him his name. One translation was ‘Village of Ivan’. It was were his parents had met all those years ago, now having buried his mother and his father having long since departed from this realm, he chose this point in his life to go on this personal quest to. He had just turned forty; his once dark hair was slowly being peppered by grey, which only seem to highlight the vivid icy blue of his eyes. Any amount of women past, said his eyes where as cold and unfeeling as he was. He had now buried the only women who truly seemed to understand him; he took this quest upon himself to do some long hard thinking. Somehow, inexplicably, which rankled him, he had an urge to be at this place. He had never walked to the burial ground before, passed it and heard tales of it. But until now he had never been here. He had heard tales of fairies and of the Dolmen being a gateway into another realm. As a cool and logical man, this held no water with him. Where was the evidence of such tales? It was however a calm and relaxing place. The blue sky was scattered with mackerel scale clouds, the sheep bleated in near by fields and over head could be heard the call of a buzzard as he soared the air looking for his prey. Maybe it was the fact this place was sheltered up in this exposed mountainous place that gave it its esoteric appeal. Maybe this is why the ancestors of these hills had chosen to bury their dead here, a solace, with fine commanding views over Cardigan Bay and the Preseli peaks around. Shouldering his pack, he made his way back down the Nevern and the pub where he was staying.

And I cried....

2010-11-25T02:55:00.000-08:00

I am a winner!

I am going to edit it, expand it and then look at getting it published.

After Christmas I am going to start work on compiling a book of poetry and I have already started researching my next book.

I would like it known officially I LOVE WRITING!

A poem for my husband

2010-11-18T00:28:00.000-08:00

It is my 10th Wedding anniversary on the 19th and wanted to give my husband something special, so I wrote him a poem & commissioned a picture to work with the poem. Here is the poem

Without you I simply would not be

The land on which we stand is the earth,

It is where we build our foundations, where we stand firm

You are all these things to me, my rock, my foundation and

Without you I simply would not be.

The wind is air, the air we need to breathe.

It can turn things around and up on their head.

As your love does to me, but

Without you I simply would not be.

Fire is warmth; it is comfort

Yet it needs handling with care

You know how to handle me, and that gives comfort to me

Without you I simply would not be

Water is the essence of our life force,

It carves and changes the earth as it flows

As our love has carved a niche for us in which we grow

Without you I simply would not be

The spirit is around us, part of who we are

It is in the earth, air, fire and water

It is within me and within you as part of who we are, like the spirit

Without you I simply would not be.

Getting nervous now

2010-11-17T05:02:00.000-08:00

Today broke through the 41,000 word mark. As I write this I am taking a break away from nanobook. I know as I am approaching the end I am probably writing 75% utter drivel and the rest is probably readable. I can see sub 9000 word mark now on my Nano homepage and I am now panicking.

Do I have enough left in my head to write 9000 words

What if I don't make it.

The only thing I am strangely confident on, is that with some fine tuning, I believe I have written a readable book!

I don't think matters are helped by the fact my step grandfather is dying of cancer, and may only have days. I don't think I have slept a good night sleep since hearing he was admitted into hospital with early stage organ failure. I am also trying to get ready for a weekend away. It is my 10th wedding anniversary on the 19th :)

I would greatly appreciate any pom pom waving or egging on you care to throw at me, failing that a kick up the backside.

Bella is helping

2010-11-11T06:05:00.001-08:00

Mum showed me the basics, and told me a rhyme she had been taught as a child. ‘In through the front door,

Once round the back,

Peep through the window

And off jumps jack. ‘

I dropped stiches, added stitches, pulled back but eventually I was getting the hang and at least remaining with the same amount of stitches on the needle, when Bella, previously sleeping, thought it was her turn to make a contribution. She chased the ball of yarn across the floor, getting herself tangled in it, pulling the needles out my hands and managing to unravel everything I had achieved so far! We really could not stop laughing, watching Bella try to untangle herself, but managing to get herself in more of a tangle. Eventually between us, we detangled her, rewound the ball and this time I worked out the cast on.

Another little taste

2010-11-08T09:24:00.000-08:00

Indeed there was another stairway; it was behind a door that was locked. I had given Mum the keys whilst I explored ‘my bedroom’. This one was not grand like the other but looked more like one the servants would use. We followed it, and came to another door. We opened it up and upstairs were more rooms, old-fashioned bathrooms and some rooms with dust sheeted old beds in. Probably another 3 more bedrooms at least, I was quickly becoming overwhelmed, whilst Mum looked for all purposes like a kid! The sunlight streamed in through windows, through disturbed dust, giving the place a rather etheric feel to it. I found another locked door, again which could not be opened. I did not care at that stage, I had found the other grand staircase, some boarding blocked off the entrance but it was there. I ran from room to room, relishing in the quirky Victorian features. This floor looked like it had been shut off for years. Perhaps one of these rooms was Maisie’s? It was then a thought suddenly sprang to mind. Had Maisie’s sister been born in one of these rooms had she died there? With that in mind I thought it best to lock back the upper part for now, until I had sorted the rest of the house out.

A teeniest snippet ....

2010-11-03T08:58:00.001-07:00

My knee would barely support me by this stage. I managed to make it to the stairs, holding on desperately to the last shreds of dignity I had. I made it through the lobby and out into the open, before collapsing off the bottom step and landing in a crumped heap, knee totally misshapen and now accompanying stabbing pain from my arm. I lay there and cried, in pain and for the fact the very foundation of my existence trembled. Pieces of metaphorical masonry tumbled down around my ears. A door slammed somewhere within, and darkness fell. I felt alone, scared and broken. Around me a storm raged, adding the appropriate background accompaniment to the internal shattering of my life.

Keeping Charlotte under control

2010-11-02T07:34:00.000-07:00

Charlotte is my main character, she was leading me towards a sex scene in chapter one. I wrote it took a break and deleted it. It was 300 words when I deleted it, so 300 off of my count for the day. It did not feel right once I had written it. This woman really needs to be a little better behaved and less obnoxious.

I am ending todays writing with a total word count of 5739, some 2,339 words today. Despite a very shaky start this morning things have moved on nicely.

Target met!

2010-11-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

I met my target of 2000 words today. Not only did I make my target but busted it. I ended up writing 3,400 words. I wrote the introduction, which gives you an over view of my main character Charlotte. Now she is telling us on how her life has taken her from what she was to where she is now.

I feel quite certain you probably will think she is a bit screwed up, I think she feels so herself. I am certain a psychologist would have a field day with her. A good job the powers that be got their first!