Spellbinding stories of mystic love and soulful hope . . .

Archive for the ‘authors’ Category

Thoughts in a writer’s peaheaded brain at 1:30 and change

10417600_10152480426884176_6460205242015283935_nOnce again, I awoke at the magical hour of one thirty plus change. I’ve had some alarming insane writer thoughts, like, “Is one-thirty going to mean something pivotal? like the hour I am to die one day?” Yes, I think things like this. Same as I used to look over at the clock and it would “always” be eleven:eleven, 11:11. I’d think, “Oh no! Why do I keep looking at the clock and it is 11:11, surely disaster is going to happen at 11:11!” Now, never mind that I could look at a clock fifty times a day and it is only 11:11 twice, but!, those four one’s just kept jumping out at me. So, dear readers, I’m sure I awake at other times than one thirty and change; however, I do not get up and look at the clock. So there.

So, I’m awake and lying there (after going to the bathroom and looking at the clock and wandering in the living room and looking out the window, and wandering into the next room and looking out that window) and I thought how writers (or at least this one) can take any little thing and write an entire damn page out of it. You noticed, huh? Well, dang. I answered myself in my head, “So, like what kinds of any little things do you mean?”

And I answered myself back, “Like little things. You know, insignificant nothings and I turn them into significant somethings.”

Myself said, “Oh, you mean, like for instance, peas.”

“Yes, that’s a good one, peas. Those green peas.”

“So, what about peas?”

“Well, peas are pretty boring; I’m not sure what I’ll come up with.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something, since you are, supposedly, awkwardly, maybely, fortuitously, unfortunately, *snicker* a genius writer *snicker*”

My other self is a gawdamned smart ass.

Anyway, I suddenly had an image of very green peas on a bright white plate. They are sitting there waiting to be eaten by a large bald man. (I just added the large bald man, though I didn’t picture him at one-thirty and change. He just appeared this moment! He’s pretty big and mean looking, so I’ll leave him here.) So, the very green peas on the bright white plate are there, waiting to be consumed by Large Bald Man.

this is a Charlie Brown pea-head

this is a Charlie Brown pea-head

One of the peas (and I swear this is exactly what I was thinking last night other than the large bald man who showed up unexpectedly just now), one of the peas decides it does not want to be eaten. It quivers on the plate, because it all of a sudden decides that being scooped up by a fork, shoved in a nasty moist mouth, chewed, verily I say, masticated to with an inch of its green, with hard teeth until it is a nasty green pulpy mess of gunk, and swallowed down the tube, and into the stomach, where the acid and digestive tract juices will render it even more unrecognizable from its cute round shape, then down it goes, still aware that it was just a moment ago still a cute round pea, and horrified that it is now a disgusting mess, it makes its way into the small and large intestines, along with other extremely disgusting gunk, and is deposited into the toilet, where it will be flushed to more unworthy places.

So, that one pea quivering on the plate, rolls and jumps off the plate, onto the table, and then onto the floor, where it cries out “I’m free! I’m free!”

That is where my thoughts of the very green peas on the bright white plate ended. I was then very tired and wanted to sleep without thinking about peas. I thought maybe I was insane and should be knocked unconscious before I did any more harm to my psyche. So, I wandered around the house again, and wrote on an envelope “Green Pea. Digestive Tract. Table.” And, thus satisfied I would remember things not worth remembering, I went back to bed.

photoYou may be wondering what happened to the little pea that could? Maybe it rolled out the door and is hiding in the woods? or maybe a fox ate it? No, no one but the big bald dude likes peas. What do YOU think happened to that sweet pea? I’d like to know myself. But, it’s time to finish this cup of coffee, y’all. *Kat trails off . . . .* Dang.

 

The Work-out Writer: no more whining!

balance, strength, energy

Work-out:

I used to tell my clients I trained to “listen to their bodies” to let them know how much they could do or when to pull back so there wasn’t over-use or injury. And that is mostly true, all y’allses beauties out there. However, I also recognize how this isn’t always the case. Sometimes our bodies/minds want to fool us, because what we are doing may be Haaaaaaard, and why oh why would our brains want to do the Hard Thing when it can at times easily convince us to do the Easy Thing? Even if the Easy Thing isn’t as good for us. Sometimes we must re-wire our thought processes.

Folks, there are times we must push through when our bodies/minds tell us it wants to slow down or stop—not to the point of exhaustion or dangerous over-working, but to the point of Kicking Our Asses and doing the Hard Thing—and not “once in a while” but “several times a week.” (Though, you must always consult a doctor before beginning a workout program!)

And you can see Monday Classroom archives as well if ye's wants a boost to rememborate sumpin. Write write write! write with abandon; edit with a keen critical eye!

 Write write write! Write with abandon!

Writer:

Some days I just ain’t feelin’ it, you know? Well, Kat, suck it up. Sit your arse down in the chair, fingers to keys, and write. Timed writing isn’t going to do it for me. If I watch the clock, then just as with my aerobics workout, I’ll be ever aware of that clock ticking: 15 minutes of writing? Okay – tic toc tic toc tic toc. *Yawn!* The work also isn’t going to be done by my whining about how haaarrrrd it is to be a wrriiiiiitteer.

Stop whining! It’s time to re-wire our “minds/bodies” from telling us we caaaaann’t to that of I can do this!–we have to, at the least, give it a try, right? Books aren’t written by rolling our eyes and sighing. Royalties aren’t paid to writers who aren’t producing books. The work is done by doing the work.

Work-out:

This person (me about a year ago) felt like shit. Wasn' t writing, wasn't taking care of herself

This person (me a few years ago) felt like crap-a-doodle-doo-doo. Wasn’ t writing, wasn’t taking care of herself

I used to crave junk and loads of chocolate. (Honestly, I still do crave it. And, I’m a Sweet-a-holic.) There were days I wanted to sit on my ass and do nothing but eat chocolate and feel depressed and not do a danged ole thing. Some days are sucky and I could fall into that trap again if I weren’t careful. But if I were to sit on my ass and gobble down an entire box of chocolates, feeling sorry for myself and the state of Everything, well, dangity it all to dangtown, but I’d feel even worse. My body would be bloated and sick from Chocolate-Junk-Sitting on my Arse Overload. Sluggish, tired, cranky, like in this pic from a few years ago–I was being silly, but there was truth behind this photo .

The more I work out, the healthier I eat, the better I feel, and the more I want to do those things to continue to feel better. Then when I do treat myself, it tastes/feels even better than it ever did before.

Writer:

Sometimes I want to sit on my ass and do nothing but feel depressed and not write a danged ole thing and eat junk and drink vodka. Some days are sucky. Well, guess what? If thousands of us sat our asses on the couch and did nothing because life is haaarrrrdd, who’d write the books?; who’d deliver the mail?; who’d bake the bread?; who’d teach the kids?

This book/writing business isn’t always easy, but ask yourself: Is this what I really want to do? Am I ready to be in this for the long-haul? Am I ready to sacrifice? Can I handle rejection? Scrutiny both good and bad and in between? If not, then what do you want to do? Reorganize your thought-processes.

Sometimes being a published author (or an unpublished one) is the easiest best job in the entire danged ole world, and other times it sucks like a big fat suckity suck black-hole sucker—but I love it more than my right arm. Get back to work. Whatever that “work” is for you–if writing novels isn’t truly what you love but you’ve been slogging through it, then maybe there is something else in this business you will enjoy more? Or maybe you’ll discover a direction/road you never considered.

streeeeeetch

streeeeeetch

Work-out:

At the end of a grueling work-out, find time to stretch those muscles, and then just as important as the work-out and the stretch, comes the quiet moment of reflection. Time and distance and wants and needs lift away as we respect our bodies, minds, hearts. The old saying “you only have one body, one life” is true (reincarnation doesn’t count – because you’ll be someone/something else, right? so no excuses!). We have this one chance to make the best of our lives. To honor our bodies. To give ourselves the gift of good health and well-being. What will you do with yours?

Writer:

step up and see what's around that corner

step up and see what’s around that corner

When the writing day is done, find a moment to reflect on this writing life. Calm the voices, the rejections, the expectations, the harried hurry and the long-ass frustrating waits, and remember just why you love this writing life so much. Recall the raw beginnings of it, when it was just you and a white space of whatever in the world you wanted to say to anyone who would listen, even if it was only your own ears. Find that joy in quiet reflection. Time is going to pass anyway. A year will pass, and a year from now, where will you be? Will you have written a year’s worth of words? Or will you have angsted yourself to a wordless mass of messy nothing-on-the-page-ness. Time will pass no matter what we are doing with it; make the best of it by stretching your writing muscles.

Work-out:

Night comes. Time to rest the body. Rest is as important as movement. A good night’s sleep prepares you for the next day’s challenge. Your body/mind deserves and needs this rest. Requires it. Be grateful for the body you have instead of fighting against it. Why would you dislike your beautiful self? Our bodies are a work of art; a gorgeous scientific biological wonder!

Writer:

When laying your head upon your pillow, remember to give gratitude for what you have accomplished. This business is so much about looking ahead to what we “should” accomplish, or what may come, or what we hope will come, that we must remember what we did achieve. Hold on to it, let it come with us into our dreams. “You Did This! Good for You!” Sleep. Dream. Going to sleep with a heart of gratitude will ready you for the next day’s challenge.

dsc09813-1Namaste, y’allses.

 

 

 

(post taken from a previous post. soon I’ll be writing original posts again, but this is a start to getting back to blogging regularly!)

Tuesday Morning Coffee: getting your groove on or back or sideways or however a groove works – haw!

When Angie’s nekkid husband comes in (but we didn’t get to see him – lawd!) and Ann says she flaps around her house like a bird – well dang — and I receive texts that Ann interprets as inappropriate (because they usually are – teehee). But we do manage to stay on topic, a little anyway.

And yes, I have neglected my blog and for that I offer up only discombobulated grunts. One day my life will fall back into place, but won’t that be boring? haw! My life, right now, is all about exploration and discovery and wild rides and meeting new people and seeing new (and old) places and experiencing things I’ve never experienced because I’ve been afraid or busy or made excuses or was hiding — now, well, WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAWWWWWWWWWWW! watch out, Kat (or watch out, World – maybe I should say!). All many of these experiences will go into my new novel. Yeah. WHUPOW!

Morning Coffee . . . how we create – how we write – how we don’t self edit our work because that’s the death of it

10364033_10152476299144176_4680787522175960798_a1011253_10203243524002060_658622034422461467_nLawd, y’all — I am behind in my posts, but insomnia has ponked me upside my peahead most undeliciously . . . so, again for now, until I can gets me shits together, I will post here the last Tuesday’s and today’s video from our Morning Coffee series. We’re moving into more “themes” here instead of random chaos, but for me it’s always about chaos – haw haw!

 

Hope you’ll join in live on Tuesday mornings at 10 ET, but you can catch us on YouTube – muwah!

Today’s ‘show’ – creating from random words – how we create – how we write – how we don’t self edit our work because that’s the death of it – and Papito joins me in my closet.

 

Last Tuesday’s “show:” where I was completely low-key – I was! believe it or not – my insomnia gripping me harder that night and thus that morning the shadow of it was all over my personality – I was actually subdued! Dang! We chatted about writing/creating about Place – Home- Geography.

 

Y’all join in now, ya hear! :D

 

 

Morning Coffee on the Creating Calm (or in my case: chaos) Network . . . .

1011253_10203243524002060_658622034422461467_nAnn White, bless her patient and brave soul, has invited me to be a part of her Creating Calm Network on Tuesdays at 10 ET for Morning Coffee. Also joining is my bestie and former partner in our Rose & Thorn Journal endeavor, which we closed down a couple years ago (you can still access some kickass writing/poetry/art, though, as the archived issues are still there).

Ann has said no topic is off limits – she best not say that! Haw! I will talk about sex sex sex SEX, and writing and marriage(how I don’t believe in it) and religion(how I don’t believe in it) and sex and men and women and sex(how I definitely believe in it) and lingerie and writing and publishing and my insomnia and fitness and health and Angie’s bra-lessness and sex – wait, did I say sex? HAW! Okay, I won’t talk about sex that much, but it will come up, probably less than I think about it though – teeheeheehee! 10398086_10152474576124176_3232207411175342070_n

Ann is in her studio, Angie in her study, and I am “broadcasting” from my closet — yup, that’s my new Space, my new Office, my new Place, my new Sanctuary for hiding and writing posts and novels and on FB and twitter and whatever else I may do — including curling up in a fetal position on my furry rug and rocking back and forth back and forth — since I left the Cove at Killian Knob for the flatland badland of Texas, I am very discombobulated!

The first video I was using crappy internet connection so I’m dragging and jumpity – I used my iPhone this time for June 10 show and that seemed to work better, though I am so jittery, I will need to find an anchor for the phone – haw! BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING goes kat. 10305604_10152463711914176_2993508658427162551_nWe are still “getting into our groove” but we hope to have, loosely, some topics to tackle over our morning coffee. Mostly, I try to control my chaos enough to pay attention and focus.

Ann is the Owner/Moderator and poor thing is trying to control two wild and weird women: Angie and me. Haw!

10417600_10152480426884176_6460205242015283935_nWe hope you’ll give us a tune in and come get to know us, and support Ann’s endeavor. And as well give us some ideas for what we can do or talk about, etc..

Maybe my insomnia will go away once I get out some cray cray from my brain . . . PONK!

 

To access the “network,” here is the link: Morning Coffee Hope to see you on Tuesdays at 10 ET! WHUPOW!

When you meet the Asshole Author . . . .

imagesOn an episode of Super Fun Night, (and Rebel Wilson is adorable in this–funny and endearing) the Marika character stands in line for hours just to see the woman who played a “superhero” character on television. Marika wants to tell the woman how much her work means to her, how she admires her—she’s even dressed like the “superhero” character. However, when Marika steps up to have her memento signed, the woman is rude to her. Later, Marika sees her alone and tries again to tell her what her work meant—this time, the “superhero” woman is even ruder, and Marika, disillusioned, goes home and packs away all those mementos. The woman Marika thought she would meet was not the kickass superhero, but instead a bitter shitass of an asshole.

And I, too, was that bitter shitass of an asshole. Yeah. Me. Sweet lil ole kickass Kat.

zoo-signOnly a few months after I’d spent weeks by my father’s side, and then still had to bear his (unexpected) death, I traveled to a conference. I was exhausted, still grieving, but thought the time away would be therapeutic—especially since I’d see my good friends there. Most of the eight hour drive was easy enough, until the last hour when, with growing horror, I realized I had a UTI heading my way—folks who have never had one, well you won’t understand how the very thought of this happening at home is bad enough, but on the road? Oh fuck.

By time I arrive where we are to stay, I’m frantic, calling my doctor, calling the pharmacy at home.  I finally find the “emergency” kit with a few days worth of antibiotics inside and gobble two down, hoping that’ll get me started, knowing, too, those antibiotics are going to make me ill–didn’t care–I know the chills and pain will soon start and am hoping to head them off. When I pull into where we are to stay—a group of little “bungalows—“ my phone rings. My friend: the “bungalows” are horrible. Nasty. In the midst of renovations so weird that nothing makes a lick of sense. We’d have to find someplace else to stay. During a peak tourist season. Eight hours drive. UTI. Grief. Exhaustion. No rooms. Oh, fuck, redux.

Ended up five of us had to share a small hotel room. Of the four women I’d be sharing with, one I had never met, and that’s where the asshole author comes in. Eight hour drive. UTI. Grief. Exhaustion. Five women in one little room. Fuck, fuck, and fuck.

He was an ass . . . but . . .  wasn't I, too?

He was an ass . . . but . . . wasn’t I, too?

I was barely holding onto my Assholeyness, when during the panel I was on the next day, the panel moderator introduced me thusly: “And now, former Playboy Playmate model Kat Magendie!” When I tell you the top of my head blew off, it did, for it was bad enough he’d earlier said to me something to this effect, but now on a panel?, in front of other writers and writer-hopefuls? Ka-BOOM! It seems in slow motion now, the way my head turned to him ooooh-soooo-slooowwwly, and it seems the words spewing from my mouth fling and slap him upside his head: “You fucking call me that again and I’m gonna Kick.Your.Fucking.Ass.” Yeah. I said that. On the panel. With wide eyes staring at me from the audience—although I’d like to think most of them thought, “Hey, he deserved it. You go girl.” Lawd.

The logistics of the crowded hotel room I won’t even relay. I will say that the next few days are a blur of me feeling ill, angry, pissy, crowded, annoyed, exhausted, sleepless, and generally hating everyone on the planet and then some.

And in this state is how the woman I’d never met—a woman who’d read my books and was looking forward to meeting the author behind the words—came to know The Asshole Author. (She was also in the audience of that panel that day, too. Yeah. Oops. Huhn. Lawd.)

bat shit crazy

bat shit crazy

While we can tell ourselves we must always be on our best behavior. While we tell ourselves that our face out to the world should be one of cheerful appreciation for our readers and always to be professional and courteous and kind, honestly, there are times when we just feel like shit, or bat-shit cray-cray. When we are assholes. When we want to bury our heads under the covers and shout: GO AWAY!

We’re human. We’re fallible.

After the conference was over, and once I was home and rested, I contacted the woman, and without giving up excuses (I hate excuses), I apologized to her for being an asshole. Would it have been better for me to keep a happy face and never let that Ass side of me to show? Yup. But was there any possible way that was going to happen during that time? Nope. Probably not.

Next time you meet an author, actor, singer, artist, why, anyone at all, really—whatever/whomever—and they are the Asshole from Hell, maybe, just maybe, give them a little bit of a break. Maybe, just maybe, they are having a hard time, are exhausted, are feeling stretched too thin, are feeling vulnerable and scared. Have nothing Photos, Video, few Words . . . "Granny Kat" in Oregonnothing not a danged ole thing left to give.

The words and worlds we authors create, the face we show on social networking, really IS us, but only a part of us. The part we try not to let you see is the fearful, anxiety-ridden, damaged, fallible, child-like innocence that’s been rattled, hopeful, rageful, Asshole, part of us. But oh, it’s there. Yeah. It’s there all right, and if the conditions are just right, you just may have met that Asshole instead of the person you so hoped to meet.

And for that, we give our most sincere apologies. Except for the Real Assholes—they don’t give a flying fuck one way or another.

002I think you know which one I am. Right? Right!

The Lightning Charmer coverThank you for your kind words and messages about The Lightning Charmer! I am forever grateful, and that, my friends, is the truth.

Five lies, out of many, that we tell ourselves . . . .

askyourdoctorLIE: I’ll start on that manuscript as soon as I finish this Facebook update.

REALITY: Haw haw haw! You’ll start on that manuscript as soon as you stop sniveling and whining and carrying on about how haaaaarrrrd this is and about how you aren’t appreciated by so and so and such and them and whositwhat. You’ll start on that manuscript as soon as you kick the ass of Fearsome Monster—and Fearsome Monster is difficult to kick the ass of since every time you kick it, YOU are the one who feels the pain. Right? Right. Riiighhht.

Oh, and for some of you out there *Kat gives the personal trainer evil eye* insert “exercise” where starting on manuscript is written. Yeah.  Uh huh.

LIE: If I fit into these jeans comfortably, I’ll stop losing weight. Or: All I want is to fit into my jeans comfortably. Or: My jeans shrunk! No wonder I can’t fit into them comfortably.

cartoonREALITY: If you have any kind of eating disorder/disordered thinking about food/weight, then I am on to you. Oh, I know you mean it when you say it, but I also know those jeans will fit comfortably and then the mind games start up: Well, if they fit comfortably, then what if they fit a little looser ; well, people are telling me I look good, I better not fail them! I better keep this weight off! And in fact, I better lose a few more pounds for a “Safety Net” so I won’t look as if I am failing by gaining it back. If my jeans fit comfortably, I then forget that they once fit tight and I think the “fit comfortably” is now “oh, my jeans should be looser” so I have to lose weight to make them looser and then I may forget how they fit after—you see the circuitous crazy-ass-psycho thinking here? Please god, make it stop, y’all! For those who think their jeans shrunk—I’ll give that to you once, and then after that, LIE LIE LIE!

I’m sure there’s a writing metaphor in there—I’ll leave that to you.

well, sheee'it

well, sheee’it

LIE: Once my novel is published, I will be forevermore happy! I will never want for another thing! I just want to see my book published even if only I read it and maybe a friend or family member or two!

REALITY: HAW HAHAHAHAHAHA HAW HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *gasping for breath* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Yeah, okay, right. It ain’t happenin’ – you will have that book published and then you will want something else. And then something else.  And then maybe something else. Will to! Will to! WILL TO!

*See Above Lie about fitting jeans comfortably – hey! I found a way to tie it to writing. WHUPOW!

LIE: I don’t care!

REALITY: Yes you goddamn do.

It's easy to be sucked down - but then again, I wonder what's in that hole?

It’s easy to be sucked down – but then again, I wonder what’s in that hole?

LIE: I’m SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO happy for so and so’s: weight loss, publishing contract, award, accolades, rise to the Kindle Millionaire list, cash flow, new baby, face, body, legs, breasts, lips, ass, writing, husband, wife, dog, cat, house, car . . . .

REALITY: I’ll give you this one, that you really are happy for them,  but with a caveat: though you may be truly happy for this person, there is a tiny part of you that may feel like shit on a big fat ugly ass stick that you have not accomplished these things or do not have these things and may never have these things or most certainly will never have these things or may always want want want and never have have have. And meanwhile, someone is envying you for what you have, and on and on it goes. What I will tell you if envy hits: Own it.  Own up to it. It just could be the thang that spurs you on. But when envy turns to Jealousy, when you are being eaten alive by it, then it’s time to take stock—it’s time to consider the realities: can you have it? Do you really want it? How much will it cost you (not just in $)? And how do you pull yourself out of your Green-Eyed Monster’s Ass?

Hey! He has more seeds than I do! BASTARD!

Hey! He has more seeds than I do! BASTARD!

I always say: A teaspoon (or even a tablespoon) of Envy is a great motivator. But Jealousy is destructive and negative and big ass ugly.

Also, I will tell you: Sometimes going to that person and congratulating them and really meaning it, feeling their happiness, feeling good for them, will make the envy lose some of its power—you face the demon of your own lacking, your own wanting and can’t (or not yet) having.

What lies do you tell yourself and do you or will you recognize the reality?

(*and folks – The Lightning Charmer is now on sale at Amazon and at Bell Bridge Books site. The “official release date” is November 1, so it should be going up for sale at other places, like Nook and bookstores and wherever else books go to find their ways to wonderful readers’ hands. I thank you all for your support. I *heart* you dearly*)

The Lightning Charmer cover

Today at Writer Unboxed: The Isolated Author (by lil ole me)

I am at Writer Unboxed today. If you are not a member, then get ye over there and check it out. Not just for my ramblings today, but for all the kickass offerings there. A wonderful group! They’re on twitter and Facebook, as well.

I was on a panel yesterday in the beautiful city of Hayesville, NC, and was reminded of how much fun blogging and blogs and bloggers can be – I promise to do better here. I do! I do! I do! *grins at you every so sincerely*

At Writer Unboxed today:

_______________________________________

2f95c122-b7f3-4ea9-8afb-ed71deb90477_zps0f985647Today’s guest is Kathryn Magendie, the author of five novels and a novella published through Bell Bridge Books—most recently The Lightning Charmer coming out this month. She’s also the Publishing Editor of The Rose & Thorn (which just recently closed its doors after fifteen years), and former Personal Trainer. She lives in a little log house tucked within a cove in Maggie Valley, Western North Carolina—where all the wild things are.

Of her post today, Kathryn says…

Thoughts of the “isolation” of this job came to me when I realized most every character I write is lonely. Then I recognized that I, me, myself, lil ole Kat Magendie, was deeply, incredibly, sadly, lonely. Well, danged if I didn’t feel right pitiful. I then read other WU posts, other author’s FB updates and Twitter feeds, and realized that feeling of isolation is shared—we’re all at one big banquet table, but the banquet table has partitions so that even though we’re surrounded by people, we’re still eating alone. I allowed myself to feel pitiful for about a week, and then I decided it was time to do something about the isolation. We’re much more than we appear to be, we band of writers, we.

You can find Kathryn on Twitter and Facebook and on her blog. More about her books here.

The “Isolated Author”

We can see the clichéd “isolated author,” one who writes in her fuzzy socks, a bottle of vodka—make that a healthy smoothie, yeah—by her side, creating micro-worlds where tiny-in-our-peahead-but-oh-so-much-bigger-than-life characters frolic and play and bring joy and epiphanies to all the land of readers. Farther pan out and see the writer hunched over her keyboard, ever more pan out and see the study she sits in with books and pens and pencils and chapstick and good luck charms and crumbs littering her keyboard and lap, and farther still to see her little log house, and outward we go ever outward to the Moon. And there we’ll stop a moment and consider just how tiny this author is. Just how inconsequential, miniscule. All the scurrying and living and loving and being around her is muffled and dark because all she experiences is: “tippity tappity tippity tappity tippity tappity *slurp munch* tippity tappity.”

The truth is, the more an author puts herself out there (But of course I mean you guys, too—we’re genderless in the World of Writing), the more isolated she becomes. The more public her life, the more private she must be. It’s an insidious endeavor, one she doesn’t recognize until it is almost too late—when the crazies visit upon her *picture here the Harpies from Jason and the Argonauts, feasting upon the sanity laid out in bounty upon the table until there’s nothing left but scraps of rational thought.*

FOR THE REST OF THE ARTICLE, CLICK HERE

The Lightning Charmer cover . . . . it’s purdy

Welp, here ’tis – the cover art for The Lightning Charmer. It’ll be out this month. Something a little different from my former novels. I’m excited and happy, and I hope my readers will love Laura, Ayron, Betty, the crows, the wolf-dog, the lightning, the sex, the love, the supernatural, the fire — I hope my readers will love it all. *Fingers Tightly Crossed*

The Lightning Charmer cover

 

 

 

A haunted man shadows the Smoky Mountain forest. A lonely woman returns to what she left behind. A legacy unfulfilled calls out to them both. .

The sky darkens, the lightning seeks . . .  

The Lightning Charmer is full of whimsy, enchantment, ancient secrets, and dark earthy seduction.  Magendie taps into those primal secret places we all harbor, with a powerful story of learning where one fits in a world that may not fit us.  Braided with color, humor, and loyalty to family, this is storytelling at its best!  Sharla Lovelace, Bestselling and Award Winning author of THE REASON IS YOU

The spell was cast when they were children. That bond cannot be broken. In the deep hollows and high ridges of the ancient Appalachian mountains, a legacy of stunning magic will change their lives forever.

Laura is caught between the modern and the mystical, struggling to lead a normal life in New York despite a powerful psychic connection to her childhood home in North Carolina—and to the mysterious stranger who calls her name. She’s a synesthete—someone who mentally “sees” and “tastes” splashes of color connected to people, emotions, and things. She’s struggled against the distracting ability all her life; now the effects have grown stronger. She returns home to the mountains, desperate to resolve the obsessive pull of their mysteries.

But life in her mountain community is far from peaceful. An arsonist has the town on edge, and she discovers Ayron, scarred and tormented, an irresistible recluse who rarely leaves the forest. As her childhood memories of him surface, the façade of her ordinary world begins to fade. The knots she’s tied around her heart and her beliefs start unraveling. Ayron has never forgotten her or the meaning of their astonishing bond. If his kind is to survive in modern times, he and Laura must face the consequences of falling in love.

On the radio: NorthwestPrime with Lori Ness

Hey, all y’allses wonderfuls. No no, I’m not flying in oblivion; okay, I am, but I done told y’all I wouldn’t post unless I had news, or something I wanted to say, or just felt like it, or the 8th sign of the Apocalypse happened and I had to gush over it, or . . . . etc etc etc. Cause I’m just that chaotic. yeah.

So, today’s news is that in about 30 minutes from now, at 3:00 PM my time, I’m going to be on the radio at NorthwestPrime.com –

For those of you who asked for  the archived file, it is HERE on NorthwestPrime. 

If’n you want to give it a listen, great.  I’m always appreciative of my readers and any interest *smiling*

Later, y’all!

733918_358280667610103_1586754340_n

Tag Cloud

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,862 other followers

%d bloggers like this: