RWA Conference - The Clock is Ticking

It's that time of year, the RWA Conference is around the corner and after over a dozen years as a published author, I am finally attending.

Happy dance.

This year's conference is in New York. That's a bonus as New York is on my to-see list and I've yet to go there. So it's a trip of firsts.

But it's a bit of a project getting ready as I realized that after a work day spent in my basement office in front of a computer, there's been no need for office attire. Now I need clothes that look good and can be used when I return home. A shopping trip guarantees that I'll be the best dressed person in my basement office - population 1. Next up, a trip to the courier store for a proper size box for my give-away books. Then, notebooks to write down what I might learn - a few pens that actually have ink.  As I'm only taking my i-phone, I doubt if I'll be taking many notes on it - thus, the pens. Although, I plan to blog from my i-phone. We'll see how all that turns out.

So I'm shopped and almost packed and there's only days to go. The app that the RWA supplied is great at organizing the seminars and events I want to attend. No worries about remembering and getting there - there's maps too.

Before I had a chance to schedule the workshops that are listed for the event, the e-mail invites start coming. I'm published by Harlequin and they surprised me with all the events they have - from workshops, meet and greets, and book signings, to a vintage dance to celebrate milestones of both Harlequin and its authors. The vintage dance provided a whole new dilemma - dressing vintage. The dress I'd just bought wasn't going to cut it unless... one vintage hat - lacy half-gloves, and a vintage purse later and I think I've cobbled together something of a look.


And the most important, what I will learn and who I will meet. There's my editor at Harlequin and the authors who write for Harlequin Intrigue, along with some "sister agent" authors, and the author that shares the same province. Up to now, they've only been voices on my e-mail and social media but many of them will be there. I'm looking forward to meeting them.

It's a chance to discover other opportunities for stories that didn't make one publisher or another because they weren't the right theme, or right country, or right hero or heroine occupation, bad timing etc.  Books where none of the reasons for rejection were because of the writing - where the hero and heroine's adventure might yet find a home. Who knows what opportunity awaits.

Looking forward to it all. And, I'm sure that none of it will be like I imagine. We'll see how it all plays out. For now, my suitcase is just waiting for the lid to be flipped and for the adventure to begin.

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

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One Week In A Care Home

I've blogged little this year. Time got away from me. Mainly because I was stuck in the mire of what else was happening in my life. I wasn't sure how to write about it or if I wanted to say anything at all. But what I've experienced this year and even last year, what's been creeping up slowly - was the return of dementia, Alzheimers, whatever you want to call it, into my life. Recently I decided that it's as much a part of my life as my writing is. It's time to fess up. After having lost my dad to this horrid disease I now face it with my mother in law.  Whether there was something that could have been done, less sugar, less stress or whether it was just a shitload of bad luck, it's crappy and there's nothing to be done to fix it, only manage it. Besides, Mum's not gone. We're figuring this thing out as we go along. And, there's still a whole lot of fun and laughter to be found. Crap happens and then we laugh. So let me share and tell you how the year began.

Ma D or Mum (my mother-in-law) moved into a care home shortly after the start of the year. This wasn't something she wanted to do or even believed she needed. In her mind she cooked for herself, cleaned her house and toodled around town in her little car. In reality, I had cooked the majority of her meals for over a year, chauffeured her to the majority of her appointments and with the rest of the family basically managed her life.  The car, well it sat in the garage with the keys tucked safely away. I'm not proud of the fact that we had to trick her into moving but it was the only way to keep her safe. When coffee was left on the burner for hours, when doors were left open in the midst of January on the prairie and with doors unlocked, and a friendly smile, she'd let anyone in - stranger or neighbour - it was time. So we began the arduous journey; wading through the options, readying her and her things for where she needed to go.

Mum fought through the early days of that first move in. It was tough for all of us but we'd found her the best place we could. Her own little suite where she could shut the door and call it her own, where staff checked on her and the meals are great. Except, problems came one after the other like a tsunami. Confusion at being moved doubled - a temporary occurrence thank goodness but one that had to be dealt with. So, week one I moved in for a few days to lend her the support it was clear she so desperately needed.

Day 1 in a Care Home

After a day of convincing her that this is her new home, after facing more failure than success - watching the 2018 Olympics seem to make everything right. But, night brings other troubles. Staff check on their latest resident throughout the night and each time she pops up on cue. On my end, the couch I sleep on is too short, even for me. It is too slippery too. The pillows shoot out from under my head and launch across the room. I just get them back in place when a sound has Mum sitting up in confusion. Settled once again and then it's the sheets that the staff so kindly lend me - they slip every time I move. So when Mum sits bolt upright in bed with a question as to where she is, the sheet slips off the couch as I sit up to answer every time, all half dozen times that she awakes through the night. I hunt down those pillows and remake that makeshift bed again - and again and... Morning takes a long time coming and finds me pre-breakfast sitting in a chair in the hallway wondering at six a.m. if the day that has only begun would ever end or if Mum will ever accept this place as home. It's the latter that has me worried. But Mum cheers up right after breakfast is served. Now, it is only the night that I dread. On the upside, the meals are great here and later in the day, for the first time ever, I actually enjoy pineapple on my pizza.

Day 2 in a Care Home
Mum's been the financial head of the household that once included the family farm, and she won't be fooled. So, when light is flooding under her door at midnight, she's concerned about what this might cost her. The issue comes up every hour on the hour through the night. I finally convince her that it is the hall light and the fact that the woman across the corridor has her light on and the door open. But, she's yet to believe that she's not going to be charged for the excessive use of power. And the next day, my short escape home for supper is interrupted as the care home calls - Mum is insisting on leaving and they fear they don't have the manpower to stop her.

I would laugh if it weren't so tragic. Mum used to be tall and strong. Now she is slightly shorter than me and when I take her hands in mine, she can't pull free. But she still gives the illusion of strength and her determination is legendary. So the night begins early as I head back to the home only to find Mum settled in her room with one of those fabulous staff members having taken charge and convincing her, for now, that this is home.

We go to bed early for I know the worst will come in the early hours of the morning starting from midnight on and there'll be no sleep after that. I'm sad as I tuck in those slippery sheets on that slick sofa thinking what has happened, how Mum's life has changed. But there's no choice, we need her safe.

Day 3 and 4 in a Care Home

The staff can make or break a place. Here, with welcoming smiles they've made Mum feel precariously comfortable. And, they make sure we're all watered, fed and happy, yes, even me who is planning an exit strategy soon. Meantime, I've stuffed a notepad and a pen in my overnight bag, just in case I have an idea or two for a story. Instead Mum believes it's time to go home and won't be convinced otherwise. I strike gold with the piano in the lounge and we both give it a go. It's the best therapy ever. Mum is a fabulous piano player - she can wing pretty near any piece with a combination of reading the music and playing by ear.

Fast forward a few months and we're celebrating Mother's Day. Except mum doesn't feel much like celebrating. We're playing bingo and she wants nothing to do with it. She shoves the bingo card at me
repeatedly and gets crankier each time she does it. I'm guessing she fears she may have forgotten how to play and doesn't want to embarrass herself. So I take charge of the card and gamely play. However, I miss one key fact - it's blackout bingo. So when I call bingo and they bring over the prize, the laughs on me when we realize that there is no win. On the upside, my embarrassment was worth Mum's smile.

And the journey goes on...

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com

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In the Closet

It's been a strange "winter getaway" this year.  I've kind of been numb over all the events that happened in the weeks before we left.  Thank goodness for the wedding, it was the only event that gave us any warning ahead of time and the only one that goes without saying, was happy.  I was best person and witnessed a good friend marry the woman of her dreams.  It was the perfect remedy for the two funerals that bracketed the "wedding of the year," as was the vacation that followed.  It's the vacation that I've already blogged about in earlier posts.  But here's the inside scoop on our Arizona vacation.

Arizona was a trip we made the last few years to escape at least some of the early months of wind,

cold and snow, that chilly fall "slide into" winter.  It's a time when it seems that even the furnace can't keep the damp away.   Although we would have loved to explore further afield, our trusty Irish Terrier was beginning to show signs of age and really wouldn't have done well in a kennel.  So instead he rode in luxury with the backseat raised and thick padding on the floor where he could snooze between rest stops.  With his travel bag beside him and content from the inevitable treat he received from the customs officer as we crossed the border, he was settled in for the trip.  It worked out well, we got our vacation and he got to come along.  In fact, we'd expected that he would travel with us again this year but we found out a few weeks before departure that that wasn't to be.  So we're missing our little Irish this year.

Meantime, we're halfway through our time in Arizona and the house we're staying in is feeling a bit like home - a home away from home.  But it only has two bedrooms and no den so when a friend came to visit, the spare bedroom I was using for office space was no more and I moved - literally, into the closet.  Fortunately it's a walk in closet off the master bedroom.  Unfortunately, its proximity is right next door to the bathroom and adjacent to the shower.  Not exactly plush surroundings as my laptop must be slid just so under the lower bar normally meant to hang clothes and I have to push the chair back carefully to miss my half open suitcase.  Yes, I've been here a month and still I haven't completely unpacked.  But in another month we'll be heading home, so now I call my state of unpacking, a time saving measure.  

Now the spare bedroom is again free but I'm beginning to like my time in the closet.  Maybe I'll stay for another week or two, or three.

Where do you do your best work?

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

Dishtowel Will Travel

It's hard to write on vacation or maybe that's just an excuse.  Maybe I've been plodding with my word count because all of a sudden writing hasn't been much fun.  Now don't get me wrong, I still want to write - need to write even.  But I expect the words will just miraculously, effortlessly plop out, pouring across the page in a vast first rough draft that only needs some sprucing, tuning and sprucing

again.  But that's not quite how it's working.

All of a sudden there's expectations.

Up until now I wrote, submitted and wrote again.  I was master of my own game.  Now, while I still am master I've heard rumblings that people may expect things, novels done maybe so that there's something to submit, proposals offered, so there's something to write and maybe - eureka - publish.

Expectations - one more step on the ladder, one step closer and I didn't expect to freeze.

Freeze - There's not a snowflake on the ground, nor will there be here in sunny Arizona so there's no reason to freeze.

I gave myself a stern talking to - it was the twentieth or so in the series.  This one finally stuck.  I don't know if it was the dishtowel in my hand or the latest review of my last book.  But it all got me thinking and all of a sudden it was there, it was back.  One thousand words later and a blog post - I've got it back - not my inspiration but my discipline, and the inspiration, well I suspect it's following right along behind.  It's not going to have much choice - it's that or be dragged.

Who knew that a little discipline came in the form of a dish towel?  What keeps you going?

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com

VW and the land of the Volkswagon

I saved V for today specifically to have the VW post.  I know that sounds right and it sounds plausible but it was also convenient.  As the story I am just finishing lurches to the finish line it is gobbling more of my time and it seems like it will never be done.  But the end of a story always feels like that, like the edits will never end.

And I'm happy to declare as I return to writing a blog post I started this morning, that the finish line has been reached, for now.  The story is out to my reader who fortunately, is much faster reading than I am at writing.

The punch to the finish line of a book reminds me of one of my first vehicles.  Back when in those free and easy days when all you have to think about is yourself and your possible career plan or lack there of, I was in love with the Volkswagon Beetle, and one of my first cars was a bug.  That was before its rebirth, we're talking the vintage model.

And as I thought about that old bug I remembered a trip that I took with a friend from the prairies to Victoria, British Columbia.  Now the VW could do sixty miles an hour top speed and that was with a

wind in your favour and a flat road.  So the mountains presented a bit of a challenge.  My trusty old VW crawled up those mountain roads chugging and panting to make it only to race down the other side. 

And then the worst happened.  The car wouldn't start.

Remember the days of youthful flying by the seat of your pants, when worries were as few as the dollars in your pocket?  A car that was a little finicky was not going to stop us from reaching Victoria not when just cooling the engine off got that car going again.  I shudder to think of driving that balky little vehicle onto the ferry for the last round of the trip.  But she started right up to drive off with no problems and we were problem free again until we hit the mainland.  From there we jump started the car a couple of times before we finally arrived home.

Why didn't we check in at a service station?  I wonder that now.  But if we had, I suppose now, I wouldn't have a story.  And the story was, that Volkswagon made it despite weary parts, all the way to the end.  Kind of like a story, one day at a time, one word at a time and eventually you'll finish that last word and voila - a story!

Ryshia
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Letter V Song

This morning there's not just one word beginning with V but a whole lot of V words.  Why weren't there learning videos like this when I was learning my alphabet?  Although, I don't know about you, but when I was singing A B C D - no one was mentioning consonants.  However, consonants are something every fledging writer should know.

For all you adults just enjoy this light video with your coffee, and maybe it will begin your day with a smile!

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
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Time for U

T is for time

U is for underestimate

Never underestimate time for it is probably out and about over-estimating you.  Like today when I am blogging T and U because I had so much time yesterday...not!  I thought I did.  I thought I had time to do it all, to catch up on my edits, to get a brochure for the upcoming craft sale ready, to walk the dog, pay the bills, answer e-mails, clean the house and the list rolled on. 

We all know the list.  The tasks that scroll threw our mind when the alarm rings in the morning.  And then like water dripping out of a tap, that distinct blip, blip, blip... and the day is gone. 

Yesterday I threw a few extra things into the rotation, a book finished and reviewed, a coffee with a friend I'd neglected, and the list goes on.  But there was even more I didn't get done.  Like that book, excuse me books, two of them - still working on it.  The book prizes that need to go out have moved to today - tomorrow at the outside and there again is a list, of what still needs to be done.

Time just got away!

So when I had the opportunity to review a new book about just that - maybe being happy with where you are and not rushing to be somewhere else or even be something else - I thought, yes I'm interested.    Now, I'm not sure if this is exactly what the author is going to tackle but it appeared to be on those lines and caught my interest.  Yes, it's more on my to do list but sometimes it's nice to do something a little different and give back.  Plus, as I said, the book might be helpful.  I'll update all of that on Goodreads.

Meantime I will continue to time wrangle and today in honour of saving time, I am blogging T and U. 

Til tomorrow.

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
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Moving on the the letter S

I could say S is for snoring.  For that is what Rourke is doing as he lays on his bed, to my right this time.  He lays to my left when he curls up on the rug.  Don't ask, it's a dog behavior that he has developed on his own and one he refuses to explain.

S by contrast is also for silence or quiet that I blogged about only two days ago.  The silence that I often need when I write and somehow get by blocking the canine snoring.  To be fair, he doesn't always snore - but sometimes...  Maybe there lies my answer to how people work in coffee shops, they block out the noise.  Thank you letter S.

S is also for summer, a season we're looking forward to on the prairie where snow is still being punched and pushed and reconfigured to encourage those last few piles to melt.  I suppose we could mention that other S - snow but we don't like to encourage that party animal who needs no invitation to show up unannounced.

And one other thing, S is for soda.  Hey, I needed that word for the picture.  I was getting a little tired of posting the party animal's pic - you know the one, read up a line or two, it begins with S too.  Shhh!

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
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Q is for Quiet Spaces

It interests me, the people who can write in coffee shops and train stations and airports and other such public places.  I can glean ideas from these places, jot down observations, take those kinds of notes that will eventually become a story but to be able to write fiction in such a place.  Never. 

The most noise I want to hear while writing, is sometimes only the dog snoring, as he is this afternoon, to my left.  Sometimes I'm a little more open to distraction and I'll have music playing - classical with no voice to distract.  And sometimes I go for the gusto and it's music with lyrics combined with the dog snores from - you guessed it, the left hand corner.  It all depends on my

mood, how much noise I can tolerate. 

Today, it's one of those dull days.  You know the kind, a day when even the weather is dull.  It feels like Sunday, which is the slow day of the week, when in actuality it's Saturday.  It's a good day to get some work done amidst the quiet.  Even the television cooperated with offering curling as a distraction to writing - not. 

Are you one of those writers that finds their best work in a public place?  Or do you seek quiet and solitude to get your best writing done?

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
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P for Pushup - Don't Do It!

And now I'm going to contradict my own title.  Pushups, you should do them.  And I do, except this morning when I did the darn things wrong.

Okay, here's the thing.  I do my pushups as the coffee starts up but I do a bit of stretch first.  Bear in mind that this is the beginning of my morning, a few quick exercises in the time it takes the coffee to brew.

I know, I know.  At least I know now.

It's not enough time to stretch correctly.  And this morning, as it always is, the pushup was the last exercise and I did a few more than I normally do.  And that's when I felt the slight twinge in my shoulder that turned into a nagging pain that has troubled me all day.  Nothing major but annoying all the same and a reminder of why exercising without a proper warm up is really, just a bad idea.

Somehow it's so much easier to write about exercise than it is to do it.  Why is that, do you think? 

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
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Work And I Love It!

It's the first Wednesday of the month and following the tradition that Alex Cavanaugh has began, here it is, the Insecure Writer's post:

Tonight's post was the proverbial pulling teeth.  I almost shoved the computer away and said that's it - I cave. 

But I didn't.

Sometimes writing is like that.  Every morning I set my alarm early - before the lights in other houses are on, even here far away from home,  I'm in front of my computer beginning the word count for the day.  Although word count, that's probably, no is, a misnomer.  I don't go for word count.  I learned a long time ago, that for me that's not an effective way to write.  It means extensive revisions that can spin a story out long after I write the end. 

Sometimes it's tough.  There are few people that understand what you're doing, why you are doing it or why your "little hobby" should be called anything but that, never mind work.  But you have to swim through all of that and just keep writing.  It's the only way to eventually make it in this business.

Once I dreamed success would mean the publisher of my dreams would publish my book, market me and put me on every bookstore shelf.  Now times have changed and the dream, well it's there but it's adapted.  I still want that original dream but right now success means getting published by small presses and alternative publishing.  It means promoting myself and extra hours at the computer to do that.  Yes, the publishing industry has changed but the dream is the same - writing success.  And despite all the advise out there, it really only boils down to one word for success - readers.

But to find readers I must write well and then promote what I've written.  But even time to write is difficult in a world where success and what you  do is judged by how much money comes in.  Under a certain bar and it's not considered work.  Interesting term, work.  Because if you don't have work attached to what you do, quantifying it as a gainful means of employment, then what you're doing is a hobby and no one can figure out why you can't stop everything to answer the phone or go for coffee or take grandma to her church bazaar or whatever. And sometimes those interruptions are valid for I will admit that what my work is, is flexible.  But because of that flexibility, often, long after everyone has had supper and settled down for the nightly sitcom, I'm back at the computer for a few more hours.

Sorry everyone, it is work.  I am busy.  I'm writing a story.  It's work and I love it!

Now excuse me - after a good days work, I believe it's time to enjoy what's left of a cool desert evening.

Ryshia
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Fatal Intent on sale now for .99 cents at online book stores.

A Tad Bit Pulsed or a Whole Lot Purried?

Sunday the road led outside the city and to the Qu'Appelle Valley and the nearby market gardens.  But that straight line highway soon veered into a jaunt through the countryside - not far, just a few miles off the highway to discover this church.  Old, or so its lead glass windows may attest but how
old?  There's a relatively new sign indicating that the church is still in session but the spire seems to be a haven for birds and other creatures.  And yet, peeking in the basement window revealed a broom leaning against one wall and a spotless wooden floor.

So is it a neglected but still loved and attended church in the middle of what looks like a forgotten patch of prairie or is it a heritage property with a rollicking history destined for the history books?  

I suspect that it's both.  But while a slight twist in the journey married market gardens to an old church and a little piece of prairie that really seemed to take you away from it all - it provided a few more questions than answers.

A slight curve, a little twist, either can change everything - like today's dog food recipe.  The recipe book I'm following - yes, except for dog biscuits, my original recipes have been replaced
by those from a dog nutritionist.  Yes, such a beast exists - the dog nutritionist and not the dog, although he exists too.  Anyway, the point of it is that when the recipe says to pulse, pulsing can quickly turn from the recipes recommended small kernels to mush.

Rather like the line of a story.  Sometimes the original premise  can veer from its beginnings as a result of those pesky little details - all that glorious, fantastic research can drag down a story or worse, derail it.  Like the story I just finished reading.  I loved the detail - the research that went into it until, well until the pages began to turn slower and some chapters just stopped when that hard-won research appeared just a little too much.  It reminded me, who loves the research phase of a story, that just because you did the research doesn't mean it gets in the book.   

But speaking of twists, the point of this post was swerves and veers in the path and how research and those really interesting facts can take a book away from its original trajectory.  Like going to the market garden and ending up on a side road by a church that takes you to another era or holding a dish of pureed dog food instead of...   Research is kind of like that.  It takes you on exciting and fascinating journeys to places that you only want to share.  I've learned that sometimes that extra tidbit of research is better shared with a  friend over a cup of coffee.

And I can hear groans now from all those friends brave enough to venture here from time to time. Maybe it's better to save all those extra intriguing facts for another book or two or even three. 

Now that church in the middle of no where, maybe there's a story there.  But the dog food?  I think in that instance, more practice just might make perfect.


Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
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In the Beginning...There Was Darkness

Writers should really be provided with an accurate road map when beginning this crazy journey to publication.  Seriously, that would make it all so much easier.  A map that says begin here at point A writing said story which when completed you will submit to Publisher A.  If Publisher A accepts remain on course for Plan A.  

If Publisher A rejects they would direct the author to the next best route for their project.  Said author, revises or not according to instruction, and then goes back to their map and follows the new route to the next publisher and so it goes.  Each step a clear route on the map.

No wait that would be utopia and this is the real world. In the real world one struggles through learning craft and writing story after story that is published or not.  And eventually you may find a substitute for said map, an agent, but not before you've spent many, many hours and learned much of the process for yourself.

But first, to succeed you must enter no man's land.  It's a dark brooding place filled with highs and lows, hopes and dreams, excitement and bouts of disappointment that dive you into moments of darkness where you threaten to never write again. Don't go there - writing takes the darkness away every time. 

And there is no map.  I'm sorry to say, it's a jungle out there.  You can plot a course but it is only guesswork whether or not you'll arrive at your destination in one piece or whether your story is sturdy enough to make it to the end.

And that's why in a utopian world a map would be ideal especially as you first venture into the world offering your writing and fearing that it's about to become the sacrificial lamb at the alter of something bigger than you can quite comprehend.  Wait, that's no fear, that's reality.  If you're lucky you'll get no rejection, no scathing comments.

Scathing comments?

Maybe, maybe not.  But every rejection draws its ounce of blood.  After awhile you'll get callouses.  If you've got a strong stomach and a huge dose of fortitude, you'll make it through the dark hours where eventually there's light. 

But if you're a writer - do you really have a choice?  So strap on that backpack, pick up the map you've outlined for yourself and write on.  And whether you're a writer or not, appreciate the book you're reading just a little more as you consider its author's journey.  I know I will.

Stop by on Friday, August 9 when I'll be hosting, as part of the tour for Theo Roger's latest book - How to Get Good Reviews On Amazon.  So stop by, and check out a valuable reference for any writer's shelf.



Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com

Books, Travel and Friday the 13th

It seems like a different story.  That was a comment made by my critique partner on the last round of revisions.  Not that she literally meant that my story was radically altered but that it was tighter, or more concise as she put it.  Suspense - there was more of it.  It's a romantic suspense, so that's a good thing.  The Borneo jungle is a little hotter than it was two weeks ago.  Again - good from the romance aspect.

Good changes, I think - and it was all because this set of rewrites came from a different perspective.  The writer that wrote the first version over a year ago isn't the writer that wrote the revisions.  Well, the mirror says it's the same one but I like to think she's learned a lot since then.

Different perspective comes from many places, experience and honing your craft is one.  Seeing the familiar from a different angle is another way.  So the other day it was a drive into the country.  It was a week day - what would once have been a work day, and that was the beauty of it.  My new daytime job, writer, is so much more forgiving about the hours.  So I became a tourist in a short drive out of town.



First up were these girls who gave me the look that I've seen in so many other places of the world - sure take my picture, that will be one American Dollar.  And in case you're wondering, or maybe you're not, one Canadian Dollar just doesn't cut it.  I didn't stop to ask the preference of these ladies.

Next on the list and much further down the road, was a chap I'll call George.  He seemed to have escaped from the field and was standing quite calmly on the road.  This picture was snapped in a bit of a hurry, just in case his complacent look was all a ruse.




A farmyard can be an intriguing place, at least to a city person.  And in this case, the farm was once my husband's family home.  Now, while the land is still farmed, the house sits, like many of the original homes on the prairie, abandoned.



Sometimes you just need to get away from the familiar to clear your mind and freshen up your fiction.    
Take a different road and the view changes.  The familiar becomes, well - like a journey afar.


On another note - today is Friday the 13th.  I don't know about you, but for an unlucky day sometimes some pretty incredible things happen.  Good things.  Today is my twelve year old niece's acting debut.  It's an amateur production but no less exciting for a kid who with born with the gift of the mime.  I'd like to say break a leg but, it is Friday the 13th, it might be safer to stick with good luck!


Today is the day for subject veers - rather like that curving country road - Here are some chances to win some first reads given away by authors or publishers, maybe find a new author or two.

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
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