photo courtesy of Rick Rieger of Rieger Photography.
All designs including banner, book covers, social media artwork were designed by Kristyn McQuiggan from Drop Dead Designs.
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One spirit in my Paranormal Painless work in progress is named Beau, after my cousin Bo who passed when we were 21.
Christian Moore, a character from my new novel, is 34, which is double the age of my previous protagonist, Michael Hilton from The Pria Chronicles. I started planning this book ten years ago and made so many changes to the form and plotline that the book became Echoes. But I never lost track of the original plotline involving spirits. So here we go…I’m returning to my original story and keeping the plotline linear and easy. I’m not creating creatures from another dimension. Just bringing in timeless loved antagonists sure to spook anyone.
#paranormalpainless #paranormalfiction #fantasyfiction #paranormalthriller #thriller #creepy #ghosts #spirits #paranormalthriller #bookstagram #ghoststory #indiewriter #writerslife #writingismylife #writerslifeforme #bookteaser #bookstagram #booknation #booknerd #bookstagrammer – https://www.instagram.com/p/BLBNhKZAaQS/
Regrann App – Repost without leaving Instagram – Download Here : http://regrann.com/download
I have just been accepted into http://www.cleanparanormal.com with The Pria Chronicles! Go check it out!
Scrivener, by Literature and Latte, is the best writing program in my opinion. Word is linear…you write from beginning to end in one long document. With Scrivener, each chapter is a stand alone folder which you can access with a simple click. When it’s exported, you can export as a Word Document and then make your final changes. It’s a dream come true. A program written for writers.
Ten years ago, I began to write a book called Echoes, a paranormal/supernatural thriller about spirits. With external influences, the book took on a new life and became what is now The Pria Chronicles, a collection of seven novels that are more for young adults (and adults alike) and is an urban fantasy. I talked about my idea from long ago, and fans have said that they would love to hear that story. So I thought, why let that idea go? Why not start over with that thriller, make is scarier and creepier than the Pria Chronicles. Go a separate way. Try something new. So the video below is what I wrote in the middle of the night, flashlight in hand. It’ll be changed, inevitably, during the writing process, the editing process and beta-reader suggestions. The title is simply “The Evolution of Pacman and Christian” but that, too, will change into something more suiting, but for now that’s where it lies. Here it is and you are the first to hear it. The beginning of hopefully another hot seller.
I am going to start a promotional video challenge for my fans to record their reasons for loving my series. Kristy Johnston (author of Find Me in Heaven, This Beautiful Curse, and her Sept 20, 2016 release of Rest in Peace, Roz) was the first to volunteer and do a video. Bless her heart. Below is her video. Thank you again, my lovely.
Ten years ago, I began two stories. One was called Echoes featuring Christian (now Michael) and Henry. The second was called Motor Oil Mack, a children’s story about…well read below to find out. I will finish this story someday. It has only five chapters living so far. Tell me what you think.
Motor Oil Mack
Book One: Harmony
My story begins a very, very long, long time ago. My experiences are numerous and could only be described as a roller coaster. Some parts were pleasurable, while some were frightening but unlike a roller coaster, some parts were even a little bit gloomy. In all my years of making children laugh, all I could think about was getting home. Home was where I was first named. Home was where I was most understood and most loved. It was a place where I was most happy and most needed. I couldn’t help but dream about the day I would be found again; the joy that day, when it finally arrived, did bring me, was overwhelming. But now, you ask, what happened to me and what I was doing all those years? Where did I go? So I must describe the events starting from the beginning; you must be aware that there will be times when you will want me to stop telling you the dismal stories and to tell more of the joyful ones. But all the events of my life must be told to you for you to truly understand the morals I have learned and the messages I have tried to teach to those who shared in this journey. So, remember that you will have no choice but to endure the sad stories, and embrace the happy ones and then be prepared for the ones that will make you very, very angry.
The first part of the story you already know, Julia, since you were an integral part but those who are now reading this story with their moms and dads, mammy’s and granddads, or brothers and sisters, must first learn how you and I came to be friends.
In my first memories, I spent my days listening to beautiful sounds of music. The singing was blissful and calming, joyful and energetic and it moved me. I learned throughout the days that the songs were called hymns and that the words the group of people spoke were called prayers. I even found myself singing and humming along. And when the people stopped singing and said their good byes, I felt so lonely. Days would go by and no sounds were heard; only quiet grumbling and rumbling and it all left me feeling somber. So I would sit in the dark and wait for the day to arrive when the singing would commence…and like clockwork and without worry, it always did.
During the times when the people would arrive, I started to learn the words to the music and began to be able to sing along. I liked the sound that my voice made against the walls because it echoed. Eventually, when the people would say their good byes, I found myself singing to the music, to myself, inside my box. When I would sing, I didn’t feel so lonely but I never liked the darkness. Only light through small cracks at the top of the walls filled my home.
Over time, after learning the songs’ words, I started to search for new experiences. Confined to the box, I started to pay more attention to the entire “sermon” as I learned later the service was called. I began looking forward not only to the songs and prayers, which I had now become quite familiar with, but also listening to the stories that were told. Each story had one thing in common; each one referred to the love of God, our maker. I learned throughout the stories, to be compassionate for the feelings of others and to treat all creation with respect. Jesus, his son, was on earth a long time ago and he, too, taught morals and even healed the sick. I learned that he wasn’t loved by all and unfortunately wasn’t always treated as I feel he should have been treated. But he wasn’t angry and loved all people, even those who sinned against him. I liked the stories and even began to like them as much as the music.
After some of the services, a group of people would come into the room where I was confined and would enjoy what they called “refreshments and fellowship”. I could hear their stories much more clearly than the stories told in the other room. They were not about God, necessarily, but about their own relationships. They talked about their children and what they were doing. They talked about their wives and husbands. I became to know what a family was and how they loved each other, unconditionally. I dreamed of a day when I would be part of a family, too.
I began to desire for someone to love me but no one ever came over to the shelf where I was. No one ever played with me or talked with me. I began to understand that there was more to life than what I was currently living. Somehow I knew that it was important for me to find out what God had planned for me.
There were times when I could hear children playing in my room. I waited each time, in anticipation, for one of those children to spot me. The children were working on “crafts” and seemed to very much enjoy this time together. I could hear adults involved as well. I believe they were teaching these children how to put things like “buttons, sprinkles, confetti, construction paper, and felt” together to make something. Once in a while I could hear them talk about the result. “Oh it’s a giraffe” or “Oh, it’s a house”. But I wanted so badly to see what they were making.
So one night, when my anticipation and curiosity got the best of me, I decided to try to open the top of the box in which I resided. I could see light peering in through the cracks in the shape of a square above me. I reached up and pushed on the square. I pressed and pushed and heaved and nudged. I thrust and rammed and jostled and shoved. But it wouldn’t budge. It was shut tight. I felt along the crack and towards the edge of the walls. The corners were regular; there was nothing special about them. I ran my gloved fingers along to the base of the box. I felt the floor of my home and only found the spring with which I was attached. I felt along my right wall and finally did find a little bump. With my one arm pushing against the top corner of the box, I used my other hand to handle this bump. I pressed and pushed and heaved and nudged. I thrust and rammed and jostled and shoved. And it did budge! The top of the box sprang open and I found myself peering up through a large opening. I was very frightened at first, but again, my anticipation and curiosity weighed more on my brain, so I peered out of the box. I looked around slowly without coming all the way out. There could be danger and I wanted to be safe. I saw many things. I stared for a while to take in all of the sights.
Just next to me, on my left, was a brown, stuffed bear. Next to it, I could see a doll with red hair and freckles. I peered to my right and had to stretch my spring to see around the lid of the box. I saw many books and magazines. I looked out to the front of the box and saw, in fear, how far up I was on the shelves. There were five shelves and I was on the top. Luckily, the shelf was very wide. I slowly and carefully stretched tall out of my box and then could see all of the other items on the shelves. Puzzles, dolls, bears, and elephants. Puppets, books, trucks, and fire engines. I said, “Hello?” to see if any of these toys could talk to me. But no one answered. I sighed. I looked out into the dim room. There was no one stirring.
I gazed around the room. Cups of scissors, glue sticks, and other “craft” items were placed down the centre of two long tables. There were sweet drawings all over the wall. I recognized that these pictures would no doubt be the children’s creations over the months. I could see many different types of animals and objects drawn on construction paper and white drawing paper. I saw elephants and trees and monkeys and bees. I saw giraffes and houses and families. I loved the pictures because they could make you smile. They showed innocence and love and creativity and hard work.
I stretched out to see the other shelves below. There were many different toys and games displayed. I could tell that the bottom shelf items were used a lot. They must have been the children’s favourites, I guessed.
I reached out and touched the bear next to me. It was soft. I looked around him at the doll but I knew that I couldn’t reach her. I reached to the right side of me and picked up one of the books. I opened it and couldn’t understand any of the words that were on the pages. I sighed in despair. I had never had the opportunity to learn to read. I shuffled through the books and found one that looked interesting. This one had fewer words and lots and lots of pictures. I began to look through it. There were pictures of apples, bananas, and cantaloupes. The book was filled with dogs, elephants and antelopes. I finished looking at the pictures of that book and then continued looking at another.
Soon, I perceived a sound that, over the months, I came to know very well. It was the sound of the door and it meant that someone was coming my way. I didn’t want them to see me so I pushed myself back through the opening. I reached out of the box and grabbed the corner of the lid and by holding my body in with my other hand, I pulled and I lugged and I heaved and I yanked the door down with all of my might. As the door closed, I heard a click. I was safe inside by the time the person came into the room. I could hear her shuffling. She was preparing the tables again for the next set of children who were coming. Yah!
I listened to the lady humming, and finally the time came when the children arrived. I smiled as I listened to them talking, laughing, and singing. They were singing about spiders, stars, buses and flies. They were laughing about pants and shirts and big bow ties. I began to learn the words to those songs, too. Soon, though, time was up and the children began to leave. I could still hear the adult in the room, cleaning up the mess. Then she left the room. I was alone. I continued to hum to the music to keep myself entertained. I couldn’t wait until the light went out so that I could come out of my box again. I wanted to look at more pictures in those books.
When the light went out and I was left alone again, I climbed out of my box and began looking at more books. When I finished looking at all the books I could over the months, I started to understand what sounds the letters represented and that they made words. So by sounding out the letter sounds into words in the easy books, I began to learn to read the harder books. My hard work paid off because before long I had read all the books on my shelf. I learned all about animals and geography and plants and religion. I learned all about right and wrong. I read about what Jesus did for us. I read books about relationships and family. These books helped me understand what the stories were really about when the people came to sing and pray. Day after day, I reread the stories until I was quite familiar with many different topics.
I began to wonder what this place looked like in the day time. I pondered about coming out when there was no one in the place but it was still day light out. I was worried a little that I would be caught outside of my box. So I sat tight inside my box each day and came out only in the night. I was lonely.
One day, as I was making the best of the quiet by humming merrily to myself, I sensed that I was being picked up. Whoopee! I stopped humming, pressed my ear to the side of the box and listened carefully to the outside.
“Hello?” a small voice said. I smiled with glee and my spring jiggled and wiggled. With curious anticipation, I pressed my ear harder against the wall but the person didn’t say anything else. I held my breath as I began to hear a strange sound. There was a clink and a clank and a cluck and a pluck; a ping and a pang and a tinkle and a jingle. It was starting to whiz and whirr and sing, sing, sing. And suddenly, as if I was a rocket, the roof went springing on its hinges and I went flying out of the box. As the wind blew my hair, my eyes still tightly closed, I traveled through the air until my body reached the end of the spring and I shot back towards the box. I sprang again towards the ceiling and back again to the box. Back and forth, back and forth, I pounded. I grinned in delight and merriment.
Finally, I could see the room in day light. I saw such beautiful glass windows in hundreds of colours as I gazed at my surroundings. The light shined through the coloured windows making them so beautiful. I saw the sun through one of the windows shining brightly. I bounced and I coiled and I leaped and I jumped. With all the fun I was having, I didn’t even realize the laughter being had by my new friend. The child had such a splendid laugh. I couldn’t believe the fun I was having but soon the spring slowed and I stopped bounding about. My body waved in the air, back and forth, slowly, as if I was a helium balloon. My grin began to become more of a smile and the child and I stared at each other for a moment. I noticed that she, to be able to reach me on the top shelf, had pulled a chair over to give her height.
“Mom,” the little girl called, “will this do?” As her mother strolled over to where we were, the child held me up into the air, in front of her. I was high up. I didn’t mind the height. The mother shook her head, and with a kind smile on her face, she reached out. I became very excited as I saw her hand reach towards my face. But then she pressed on the top of my head and pushed me back into the box. There was a click, her hand retreated out of the box and the roof of my house closed. Once again, my world was dark, except for the square crack of light coming from the roof of my house.
I felt the sensation that I was being carried and I, after a moment, heard that familiar door close. This time, I was on the other side of it. I peered, in delight, through the cracks and saw a lot of blue and white. The sky! I had seen pictures of the sky in the books. Now I was outside, leaving the place of beautiful windows behind. I had a permanent grin on my face. How fascinating!
Wow! What an exciting and wonderful experience! How pleasurable! I thought about the little girl’s laughter in the room with the beautifully lit windows. I couldn’t help but wonder when I would hear the pings of my box again. I wanted to see the surprise on the little girls face, again. I wanted to hear her laughter again and again. I wanted all the fun of the experience again and again and again. I had no choice but to sit tight and wait. But I knew that the wait was well worth it. I still was aware of movement as I was carried. I wasn’t upset about leaving that beautiful place. My adventures would begin that day. A new home and experience was waiting for me and I just couldn’t wait.