Category: WOW

Lorraine Ash Guest Author interview & giveaway

WELCOME Lorraine Ash

Lorraine Ash

Lorraine Ash, MA, is an author, journalist, and essayist as well as a writing teacher. Self and Soul: On Creating a Meaningful Life is her second book. Her first memoir, Life Touches Life: A Mother’s Story of Stillbirth and Healing, was published by NewSage Press and has circulated throughout the United States as well as in the Middle East, Australia, Europe, China, Canada, and Mexico. Lorraine also is a veteran journalist whose feature articles and series have won seventeen national, state, and regional awards and have appeared in daily newspapers across the country. Lorraine belongs to the Association of Writers and Writing Programs and Investigative Reporters and Editors. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, Bill.

Connect with Lorraine at these sites:

WEBSITE        TWITTER   

Q&A with Lorraine Ash

Writing and Reading:
Do you draw from personal experiences and/or current events?

As a memoir writer, I draw from personal experience. Like all our lives, though, mine is touched by issues and trends of the day.

Do you start with the conclusion and plot in reverse or start from the beginning and see where the story line brings you?

A memoirist has lived her story line. Though the story may have ended, in terms of what happened, it probably is still alive and kicking in the psyche of the writer. Indeed many people turn to memoir not only to witness and chronicle some important corner of life but to come to peace with what happened.

A well-constructed memoir poses a master question. It’s fair to say the writer does not, at the outset, fully know where that question may bring her. She usually knows, though, that it’s imperative for her to take the journey.
In a memoir, the journey follows the writer through what she experienced but also traces the shifts in her consciousness until she comes upon some master insight—a holy grail, if you will—that allows her to answer the question the best she can. Tracing those consciousness shifts while inching toward the insight makes for good storytelling, but it also can be therapeutic for the writer.

Everyone’s life, no matter how ordinary, can open into life’s big questions and grand themes. That statement is a revelation to some people. By virtue of having a mind and a heart, though, we’re hardwired to engage the big questions. Every life is important.

In my latest book, Self and Soul: On Creating a Meaningful Life, a spiritual memoir, I ask a question from deep in midlife, after I’ve had many disparate experiences, including the stillbirth of my only child and, less than a decade later, the parallel declines of my father, my industry, and the American economy. It seemed a good time to ask: What does it all add up to?

The question echoes one my father used to ask in his prime. He’d come home from his office, put down his two hefty legal briefcases, rifle through the mail, and mutter, “Where does it all take us in the end?” It’s a fair question.
Self and Soul takes readers to some interesting places in the world, including the hospital room where I lost my daughter, a caving expedition, an ashram, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater, and Sedona, Arizona. Yet it’s very much about interior landscapes. The book shows that some of the experiences that happen to a person—a “self,” if you will— can seem futile or hollow or random and become meaningful only when we take them inside us to the “soul” level. That’s where the magic happens.

Your routine when writing? Any idiosyncrasies?

When a project, whether it be an article, series, or book, starts to build in my mind, I’m always writing it, whether my hands are on the keyboard or not. I’m forever jotting down ideas, assimilating information, and turning over scenes in my mind. Also, my ear is always to the ground for any news or ambient story regarding the issue or theme.

As a full-time journalist, I write in the newsroom whenever I’m on duty. As a part-time author, I write on weekends and, better yet, on vacation days. Both of the latter instances have the advantage of offering a run of days in which to keep a flow going.

I don’t find it useful to write in small snatches of time and my most productive hours are definitely in the afternoon and night—sometimes into the wee hours of the morning.

Is writing your full time job? If not, may I ask what you do by day?

I write full time as a journalist and part time as an author, which is a wonderful balance. I’m enchanted by long-form journalism and narrative writing.

Who are some of your favorite authors?

In the world of memoir, I find myself resonating with the voices and writing styles of Cheryl Strayed (Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail), Caroline Knapp (Drinking: A Love Story), and May Sarton, whose journals are sublime.

What are you reading now?

In the moment, I’m re-reading I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, by the great Maya Angelou. I’m wistful, I suppose, about her recent passing.

Are you working on your next novel? Can you tell us a little about it?

In my case, it would be the next memoir. I have conceptualized and mulled it, having resolved to start next year. I can say that it centers around my late father’s dementia. I can say with certainty that dementia is a huge issue in the United States.

Fun questions:
Your novel will be a movie. Who would you cast?

If the memoir Self and Soul were a movie, the dream lead would be Michelle Pfeiffer, hands down. Maybe we could get Kevin Bacon to lead the caving expedition, Ben Kingsley to play the swami, and Sela Ward to play the therapist. Perfection!

Manuscript/Notes: handwritten or keyboard?

I take notes many ways, depending on where I am when my mind illuminates with an idea—on my smart phone, PC, or a paper pad. From time to time, I’ll reach for my digital sound recorder, too.

Favorite leisure activity/hobby?

Spending time with my husband and friends, cooking, getting a massage, exploring the state of Maine.

Favorite meal?

There are so many and so much from which to choose, even for a gluten-free person like me—cavatelli and broccoli (with bacon and in a butter sauce), pineapple chicken, orange barbecue chicken over rice, filet mignon, saffron risotto with butternut squash, Cornish game hen, and a good old-fashioned meatloaf.
On my mother’s side of the family, there are a lot of great cooks. Indeed, my Great Uncle Primo was a chef at Asti’s, an Italian restaurant in New York City where the waiters were also professional singers who’d break into song for the patrons.

I consider the legacy of beautiful, healthful food to be one of my most joyful family legacies.

ABOUT Self and Soul: On Creating a Meaningful Life

Are you living a life of quiet desperation? Questioning what it means to succeed? Wondering if your efforts matter? In this uplifting memoir, Lorraine Ash uses her own life experiences to explore inner landscapes where the seeds of divine healing and insight reside. These are the landscapes on which we create our own meaning and find the resiliency to thrive in a changing and challenging world.

Self and Soul: On Creating a Meaningful Life is available as a digital audiobook. Find it at Audible.com and Amazon.com as well as in the iTunes store.

BOOK DETAILS:

Number of Pages: 176 pages
Publisher: Cape House Books
Publication Date: October 1st 2012
ISBN-10: 1939129001
ISBN-13: 9781939129000

PURCHASE LINKS:

       

THANKS TO Renee AT WOW! Women on Writing, I HAVE ONE (1) PRINT COPY TO GIVE AWAY.
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I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me, in exchange for my honest review. No items that I receive are ever sold…they are kept by me, or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble. I am an IndieBound affiliate. I am providing link(s) solely for visitors that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

 

Guest Author SUE WILLIAM SILVERMAN showcase & giveaway ENDED

 

WELCOME SUE WILLIAM SILVERMAN


SUE WILLIAM SILVERMAN

Sue William Silverman’s new memoir is The Pat Boone Fan Club: My Life as a White Anglo-Saxon Jew. Her two other memoirs are Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction, which is also a Lifetime TV movie, and Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You,which won the Association of Writers and Writing Programs award in creative nonfiction. Her craft book is Fearless Confessions: A Writer’s Guide to Memoir.  As a professional speaker, Sue has appeared on The View, Anderson Cooper 360, and more.  She teaches in the MFA in Writing Program at Vermont College of Fine Arts.

Just Thought You Should Know:

Sue William Silverman is also the author the memoirs Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You and Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction, which was made into a Lifetime Television original movie. She also wrote Fearless Confessions: A Writer’s Guide to Memoir and the poetry collection Hieroglyphics in Neon.
Connect with Sue at these sites:

WEBSITE        TWITTER   

 

Guest Post

Who Is That Masked Memoirist?

After my first memoir was published, Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You, I received e-mails from readers who wrote things like, “Sue, I feel like I know you.” I received similar e-mails after publishing Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction. Both memoirs frequently elicit this response – I feel like I know you – even as both books are very different.

With one, readers know who I am as a girl growing up in an incestuous family. With the other, readers know me as an edgy sex addict seeking yet struggling with recovery.
Of course, I’m enormously grateful for these e-mails: I had portrayed my self – or one aspect of myself – the way they perceived me.

Now, with my new memoir, The Pat Boone Fan Club: My Life as a White Anglo-Saxon Jew, readers might see me as a Pat Boone groupie. Or, as a girl who wanted to be Christian growing up – wanting to be adopted by Pat Boone – because the very Christian pop star seemed safer than my Jewish father who abused me.
Isn’t that my goal, after all: to take the flesh and blood me and craft myself into a real, breathing person on the page?

Yes!

But Who Is the Real Me?

While readers of each book might think they know me, how can they know the whole me? As I move from book to book, I wear different masks searching for identity – no, identities. Plural.

Who or which persona is the real me?

As a real person I “contain multitudes” (as Walt Whitman said); we all do. Until written, however, these various facets remain murky. It is only by writing, by carefully selecting relevant details, that I myself become fully able to understand these different aspects that suggest, but do not encompass, the whole person I am.

And, dear writer of memoir, this is the point: don’t limit yourself. Any given memoir is a slice of a life, not a whole life, because every life is multi-faceted. We are daughters, sons, teachers, hobbyists, extroverts, introverts, Democrats, Republicans, feminists, spouses, guitar players, shopaholics, marathon runners, gardeners, foodies, and much more. And each facet is worthy of your writerly attention!

A Core Self

But isn’t there still an essence of me? Of you? Some core? Something—some characteristic or trait that we simply are, that we can’t escape, that will show up in everything we write?
The answer is “yes.” And “no.” Let me explain.

After publishing the first two memoirs, I wanted to write from a more ironic, even humorous perspective. This dovetailed with a desire to explore my feelings toward Pat Boone, a Christian and politically conservative man so squeaky clean he hasn’t even been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame despite the millions of records he’s sold. (In his hay-day, he often out-sold Elvis Presley.) Initially, I figured I could write about Pat Boone without mentioning my father: a sort of light-hearted, baby-boomer coming-of-age story.

That only worked in part.

After all, my feelings toward the wholesome Pat Boone arose in large part because of what happened with my father. I had to introduce that into the new book for context and motivation.

At its heart, the book revolves around three separate times I met Pat Boone and how, ultimately, he did see me in positive ways that my real father never did. In our last meeting, for example, and referring to my childhood, he said he saw me “as a flower growing up through concrete.” In other words, his image of me is that of how a father should see a daughter.

So did Pat Boone see me with my mask, or without it?

I think he saw me with a mask that revealed if not “the” whole, true me, then at least “a” true me – a “daughter,” a flower – who experiences the world through the filter of Pat Boone as an image of safety.

In the new book, additionally, there are other ways I depict myself, which are revealing masks as well: I’m a Jersey girl, a hippy, a temporary Israeli, a dissatisfied wife, and more.

What these masks have in common, in addition to their transparency, is how they form a mosaic of a self, of many different personas that comprise me. Don’t we all – over the course of a lifetime – become different “selves” looking for a common characteristic to tie them all together?

As writers of memoir we get to have our masks and wear them, too.

In short, there are masks that reveal, masks that conceal. What part of your life is a revealing mask? What underlying part of you, the whole person, does that illuminate?

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Gentile reader, and you, Jews, come too. Follow Sue William Silverman, a one-woman cultural mash-up, on her exploration of identity among the mishmash of American idols and ideals that confuse most of us—or should. Pat Boone is our first stop. Now a Tea Party darling, Boone once shone as a squeaky-clean pop music icon of normality, an antidote for Silverman’s own confusing and dangerous home, where being a Jew in a Christian school wasn’t easy, and being the daughter of the Anti-Boone was unspeakable. And yet somehow Silverman found her way, a “gefilte fish swimming upstream,” and found her voice, which in this searching, bracing, hilarious, and moving book tries to make sense of that most troubling American condition: belonging, but to what?

Picking apricots on a kibbutz, tramping cross-country in a loathed Volkswagen camper, appearing in a made-for-television version of her own life: Silverman is a bobby-soxer, a baby boomer, a hippy, a lefty, and a rebel with something to say to those of us—most of us—still wondering what to make of ourselves.

BOOK DETAILS:

Genre: Memoir
Publisher: University of Nebraska Press
Publication Date: March 1, 2014
Number of Pages: 248 pages
ISBN-10: 0803264852
ISBN-13: 978-0803264854

PURCHASE LINKS:

            

THANKS TO JODI AT WOW!,
I
HAVE ONE (1) COPY TO GIVE AWAY.
OPEN TO U.S. and CANADA RESIDENTS
FILL OUT RAFFLECOPTER ENTRY FORM BELOW
GIVEAWAY ENDS MAY 7th AT 6PM EST

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WINNER WILL BE CHOSEN BY RAFFLECOPTER AND NOTIFIED
VIA EMAIL AND WILL HAVE 48 HOURS TO RESPOND
OR ANOTHER NAME WILL BE CHOSEN

a Rafflecopter giveaway

YOUR JAVA SCRIPT MAY NEED TO BE UPDATED
IF YOU AR EXPERIENCING DIFFICULTY
USING THE RAFFLECOPTER ENTRY FORM

DISCLAIMER
I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me, in exchange for my honest review. No items that I receive are ever sold…they are kept by me, or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble. I am an IndieBound affiliate. I am providing link(s) solely for visitors that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

 

WOW! Presents: THE TIMES THEY WERE A’CHANGING ENDED

WELCOME AUTHORS


Linda Joy Myers, Kate Farrell and Amber Lea Starfire

Connect with Linda Joy Myers, Kate Farrell and Amber Lea Starfire at these sites:

WEBSITE        TWITTER

GUEST POST

“Legacy of the ‘60s and ‘70s and What It Means for Women Today”
by Elise Frances Miller, Winner Second Place, Prose

In the early ‘70s, I was doing just what I wanted to do: teaching three art history and humanities classes and conducting research as a college instructor. I was not happy being “part-time,” underpaid, and with no benefits. I did not consider myself an artist, though I still tried my hand at a variety of media in those days. I admired artists, especially women, who put their work out there in public, sometimes defying a parent or spouse, usually for very little remuneration.

Then I joined an organization called “Women Artists It’s Time” (W.A.I.T). The mission was clear: find ways for female artists’ work to be appreciated and understood on a level commensurate with that of male artists. We had role models from Berthe Morisot to Georgia O’Keefe, Louise Nevelson to Joan Brown, but these pioneers did not have many peers. In the realm of art history, Women Artists: 1550-1950 published in 1976 by Linda Nochlin and Anne Sutherland Harris took academic art history departments and the stuffy College Art Association by storm.

At universities in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, almost no female artists made it into the curriculum. Nochlin and Harris broke the Western, white, male version of art history, and encouraged others, both men and women, to broaden their research for international, ethnic and gender equity in publications.

Our small efforts in W.A.I.T. soon blossomed, not because more women chose to go into art, but because more of them became known. We also celebrated the recognition of women’s “crafts” by art museums. Quilting, weaving, needlework and other handicrafts were accepted as subjects for both historical and current exhibitions.

By the 1970s and ‘80s, I was writing art reviews for major newspapers and magazines. Judy Chicago, Betye Saar, Eleanor Antin and Jennifer Bartlett were just a few of my favorite artists to review. As galleries began to exhibit women’s artwork, I encountered no resistance to featuring them in my articles.

Today there is no lack of women artists. Some of these have made a splash, but as in other fields, the struggle is not behind us. Women still lag behind men both in exposure and remuneration.

As a member of W.A.I.T., I learned that when we band together, boosting our sense of purpose, we push forward, and best of all, we create in diverse fields, guilt-free, with families and all. This personal growth was important to the expansion of social, political and professional roles for women in the 1970s, and in turn, women’s movement activity also enhanced the individual’s journey.

The Times They Were A-Changing: Women Remember the ‘60s and ‘70s preserves the record of that two-way nourishment in varied circumstances. As this anthology shows so well, in tandem with the political struggles, social experiments, and hard-fought gains that are the legacy for today’s women, there was always the girl becoming a woman, unsure, seeking strength through collaboration, building the story one scene at a time. Since our era, as never before, that has been the way it is done.

Elise Frances Miller’s novel, A Time to Cast Away Stones (Sand Hill Review Press, June, 2012), is set in 1968 Berkeley and Paris. With degrees from UC Berkeley and UCLA, Elise began writing about arts for the Los Angeles Times, Art News and San Diego Magazine. She taught high school and college humanities, and served as communications director at San Diego State University and Stanford. Her short stories have appeared in The Sand Hill Review (fiction editor, 2008), Fault Zone: Stepping Up to the Edge, and online. Her novel and its historical background are described at http://www.elisefmiller.com.

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Just in time for the holidays, Linda Joy Myers, Kate Farrell and Amber Lea Starfire launch their anthology Times They Were A-Changing: Women Remember the ’60s and ’70s. The book is the perfect gift for opening discussions with friends and family members and illustrating what a powerful time the ’60s and ’70s truly were.

Forty-eight powerful stories and poems etch in vivid detail breakthrough moments experienced by women during the life-changing era that was the ’60s and ’70s. These women rode the sexual revolution with newfound freedom, struggled for identity in divorce courts and boardrooms, and took political action in street marches. They pushed through the boundaries, trampled the taboos, and felt the pain and joy of new experiences. And finally, here, they tell it like it was.

Through this collection of women’s stories, we celebrate the women of the ’60s and ’70s and the importance of their legacy.

BOOK DETAILS:

Paperback: 354 pages
Publisher: She Writes Press
Publication Date: Sept. 8, 2013
ISBN-10: 1938314042
ISBN-13: 978-1938314049

PURCHASE LINKS:

           

THANKS TO RENEE AT WOW!,
I
HAVE ONE (1) COPY TO GIVE AWAY.
OPEN TO U.S. RESIDENTS
FILL OUT RAFFLECOPTER ENTRY FORM BELOW
GIVEAWAY ENDS JANUARY 1st AT 6PM EST

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WINNER WILL BE CHOSEN BY RAFFLECOPTER AND NOTIFIED
VIA EMAIL AND WILL HAVE 48 HOURS TO RESPOND
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YOUR JAVA SCRIPT MAY NEED TO BE UPDATED
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DISCLAIMER
I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me, in exchange for my honest review. No items that I receive are ever sold…they are kept by me, or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble. I am an IndieBound affiliate. I am providing link(s) solely for visitors that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

 

WOW! Presents BONNIE MILANI showcase & giveaway ENDED

WELCOME BONNIE MILANI


BONNIE MILANI

Bonnie vividly recalls the book that helped her decide she could out-write another writer: it was a junior reader’s biography of Sir William Harvey, the 17th century English physician credited (in the West) with discovering how blood circulates. After about 30 pages of telling herself “I can write better than that!” she grabbed a crayon that just happened to be blue and started editing. She was all of seven years old at the time. Unfortunately for her juvenile bottom it was a library book. She followed the dream through college and after grad school, freelancing feature articles for newspapers along the East Coast. Milani even wrote a cover story for Science Digest! Alas life and grown up responsibilities caught up with her and by her late twenties she put writing away with so many other dreams while she followed a ‘career track’. After losing her entire family, she realized story telling just a want but a need and a gift God gave her. So here she is, a self-declared “middle-aged pudge” working on getting back into a writer’s kind of real life!
Connect with Bonnie at these sites:

WEBSITE    

GUEST POST

Where Do You Get Your Ideas?

I don’t think there’s any one answer to that question.  Story ideas pop out of conversations, observations, day dreams, or even just a flat out ‘what it’?  Or sometimes even from just a shuddery moment.  I’m working on a short story right now that grew out of an incident like that many years ago.  Back when I was young and thin and thoughtless, I walked into a pet shop just to ooh and aah and the puppies.  I noticed a fellow with a circle – a wide circle – around him over at the store counter, but didn’t pay him any attention.  After all, to a ‘tweener what’s a guy compared to a puppy?  I should’ve noticed, though.  Because I was still ogling the puppy cages when I started to walk out – and found myself face-to-fanged face with the tarantula sitting on the back of that fellow’s hand.  Now, I don’t know about the spider, but I’m reasonably sure I broke an Olympic record for standing side jump.  I know I woke up ever living creature within a couple of hundred yards.  I certainly annoyed the fellow; turns out tarantulas hate loud noises and that one was sitting on his hand.  I didn’t stay around to find out.  Now the reason I’m telling this story purpose of this story is that while I was shuddering my way home I got to wondering what the incident felt like from the tarantula’s perspective.  And suddenly a very put-upon arachnid popped his head out of a web at the back of my mind and introduced himself as Rahss.  Took many years and more questions to spin a story (sorry; couldn’t resist) around him, but Rahss is finally coming into his own.

By contrast, the idea for Home World grew out of a dream I had. In it a young woman in a highly decorated military dress uniform was chained to a dungeon wall.   The imagery was so disturbing it woke me up.  I am emphatically not into S & M or bondage.  Fifty Shades does NOT have a place on my bookshelf.  So the idea of a chained woman both puzzled and intrigued me.  Maybe that’s why it turned into a recurring dream; I just couldn’t let the idea go.  Gradually I worked out that she was Keiko Yakamoto, a Samurai-trained native Hawaiian from the wrong side of the gene pool.  What grew up around her was a love story of interstellar political intrigue as two young princes vie for Keiko’s love with the very existence of humanity at stake.

I think we all come up with story ideas every day.  Most of the time we just don’t realize it.  Do you have something that feels like a story idea?  An incident, maybe, in search of a plot?  Sometimes all you need to do to find a good story is take a simple, everyday incident and turn it around.  And voila!  A story!

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Home World is a fast paced well written story about the power and the price of love. This story takes place amid the ruins of a post-apocalyptic Waikiki. Jezekiah Van Buren thinks he has found a way to restore Earth – Home World, to the other worlds of the human commonwealth. His goal is to restore his home to her lost glory.

Ingenious even by the standards of the genetically enhanced Great Family Van Buren, Jezekiah has achieved the impossible: he has arranged a treaty that will convert Earth’s ancient enemies, the Lupans, to her most powerful allies. Not only will the treaty terms make Earth rich again, it will let him escape the Ring that condemns him to be Earth’s next ruler. Best of all, the treaty leaves him free to marry Keiko Yakamoto, the Samurai-trained woman he loves. Everything’s set. All Jezekiah has to do is convince his xenophobic sister to accept the Lupan’s alpha warlord in marriage.

Before, that is, the assassin she’s put on his tail succeeds in killing him. Or the interstellar crime ring called Ho Tong succeed in raising another rebellion. Or before his ruling relatives on competing worlds manage to execute him for treason. But Jezekiah was bred for politics and trained to rule. He’s got it all under control. Until his Lupan warlord-partner reaches Earth. And suddenly these two most powerful men find themselves in love with the same woman. A woman who just may be the most deadly assassin of them all.

BOOK DETAILS:

Publisher: Promontory Press; 1ST edition
Publication Date: Aug. 22n 2013
Number of Pages: 423
ISBN-10: 1927559235
ISBN-13: 978-1927559239

PURCHASE LINKS:

        

THANKS TO CRYSTAL AT WOW!,
I
HAVE ONE (1) COPY TO GIVE AWAY.
PRINT~OPEN TO U.S. and CANADA RESIDENTS
EBOOK~OPEN TO ALL
FILL OUT RAFFLECOPTER ENTRY FORM BELOW
GIVEAWAY ENDS DECEMBER 5th AT 6PM EST

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WINNER WILL BE CHOSEN BY RAFFLECOPTER AND NOTIFIED
VIA EMAIL AND WILL HAVE 48 HOURS TO RESPOND
OR ANOTHER NAME WILL BE CHOSEN

a Rafflecopter giveaway

YOUR JAVA SCRIPT MAY NEED TO BE UPDATED
IF YOU AR EXPERIENCING DIFFICULTY
USING THE RAFFLECOPTER ENTRY FORM

DISCLAIMER
I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me, in exchange for my honest review. No items that I receive are ever sold…they are kept by me, or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble. I am an IndieBound affiliate. I am providing link(s) solely for visitors that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

 

Guest Author SARA CONNELL showcase & giveaway ENDED

WELCOME SARA CONNELL


SARA CONNELL

Sara Connell is an author, speaker, and life coach with a private practice in Chicago. She has appeared on Oprah, Good Morning America, NPR, The View, FOX News and Katie Couric. Sara’s writing has been featured in: The New York Times, Good Housekeeping, Parenting, Psychobabble, Evolving Your Spirit, and Mindful Metropolis magazines. Her first book, Bringing in Finn; an Extraordinary Surrogacy Story (Sept 4, 2012 Seal Press), was nominated for Book of the Year 2012 by Elle magazine.
Connect with Sara at these sites:

WEBSITE        TWITTER   

GUEST POST

Even before the seven-year journey I took to have a child, I would have said that every birth is extraordinary. The phenomenon of an egg and a sperm joining to create a human life is, to me, miraculous. Paradoxically, I’d always thought, the way an egg and sperm come together—through sex—is a wonderfully basic thing that anyone, regardless of education, creativity, skill or life advantages can do.

Nine years ago, when my husband and I gave ourselves over to the primal desire of having a child, this is what we wanted: a totally normal conception followed nine months later by an extraordinary event—the birth of a healthy child.

Normal, however, did not turn out to be our path.  Instead of dinner out and making love, we drove back and forth from the fertility clinic and took turns injecting hormones into my stomach and behind.  We worked up to IVF and got pregnant! With twins!  Five and a half months into the pregnancy I went into pre-mature labor and the twins were delivered, stillborn.  A year later: a miscarriage, more IVF (six rounds in all). The word “extraordinary” did not enter into conversation during this time, unless it was to describe our extraordinary feelings of grief, despair, and loss.

We took a break. And during this time, my mother, who had, according to her, never done an extraordinary thing in her life, saw a story about a post-menopausal woman who’d become pregnant and made the collosally generous and yes- extraordinary- offer to be a surrogate for our child.

Fearing our fertility clinic might refer us to a team of psychiatrists, we proceeded with caution, trying to guard our hearts. But to our surprise, our doctor did not dismiss our idea.  While the viability of a woman’s eggs are influenced by her years on the planet, it turned out that the uterus does not age in the same way. (definitely extradordinary!)

After batteries of tests, my mother was cleared to be a “gestational host” ( a woman who carries the biological child of a couple).  My eggs were joined with my husband’s sperm and then transferred into my mother’s uterus—and on the second joint IVF attempt, we heard the amazing news: we were pregnant and the pregnancy was advancing.

My mother moved in to our house in Chicago. We read Harry Potter books to the baby. We took walks and cooked my mother nourishing meals of her favorite foods. And in February 2011, thirty-nine weeks after we received that call of congratulations from our doctor, Finnean Lee Connell came into the world.  Two beautiful hands, ten perfectly shaped toes, a face with a tiny nose that lifted up at the end like my husband’s. A beautiful, vibrant new life that the doctors in the delivery room pronounced, perfectly, wonderfully, “normal.”

At two and a half years, Finn is talking, running, making friends and running to the potty – sometimes making it, sometimes not- when he needs to go.  He is – as many parents truthfully but obnoxiously say- our greatest joy; in every way “normal” and most definitely, extraordinary.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Bringing in Finn is the true story of a couple who wanted nothing more than to have a family and a mother who would do anything for her daughter. After unsuccessfully trying to conceive naturally, years of fertility treatments, miscarriage and a late term loss of twins, Sara and Bill Connell were emotionally and financially depleted and at a loss as to how they could have a family. When Sara’s mother Kristine offered to be their surrogate, the three embark on the journey that would culminate in Finnean’s miraculous birth and complete a transformation of their at-one-time strained mother-daughter relationship.

BOOK DETAILS:

Genre: Memoir
Publisher: Seal Press
Publication Date: October 8, 2013
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN-10: 1580055419

PURCHASE LINKS:

           

THANKS TO CRYSTAL AT WOW!,
I
HAVE ONE (1) COPY TO GIVE AWAY.
PRINT-OPEN TO US/CANADA RESIDENTS or EBOOK-OPEN TO ALL
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I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me, in exchange for my honest review. No items that I receive are ever sold…they are kept by me, or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble. I am an IndieBound affiliate. I am providing link(s) solely for visitors that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

 

Guest Author TONI PICCININI showcase & giveaway ENDED

 

WELCOME TONI PICCININI

TONI PICCININI

Toni’s writing career started when she stapled her first “book” together and launched it at a reading attended by her brother, Scotty, and her Boxer, Lonesome. The title-less story was a mash-up of Hansel and Gretel, The Six Swans, and a Box Car Children adventure, with the protagonists (sister, brother, and dog) risking everything in their quest for a magical lump of coal that would save the town. It was an immediate success. During the fifty years between her first and second book, The Goodbye Year: Wisdom and Culinary Therapy to Survive Your Child’s Senior Year of High School (and Reclaim the YOU of You) she has, in no order of importance or chronology

  • · opened a “Top 100” San Francisco restaurant
  • · published scientific articles on the efficacies of antibiotics
  • · sang the National Anthem at high school football games
  • · published essays, recipes, and cookbook reviews
  • · sent three children off to college

Toni lives in Marin County California, which is a long way from her Western Pennsylvania hometown, Heilwood. She is busy on her next book, which may revisit the power found in a magical lump of coal.
Connect with Toni at these sites:

WEBSITE          TWITTER    

GUEST POST

How To Reclaim the YOU of You

A funny thing happens on the way to Motherhood Nirvana—we get a little lost. It is so busy being a mom. One day tumbles into the next and by the time we come up for air our baby is a senior in high school. The summer before my oldest and only daughter, Page, started her senior year I could feel the sand shifting beneath me. I had dove into the deep end of motherhood, gratefully, gleefully, and completely. Before Page graduated from pre-school she had a toddler and infant brother at home. We were a family of five and I was defined as “Mommy” a role I cherished. When my first Goodbye Year started I recognized that it would be a year of Last Times. What I didn’t recognize was the woman staring back at me in the bathroom mirror.

 I had three Goodbye Years and they couldn’t have been more different from one another. I was a different person each time, too. As I let go of my need to please everyone in my family I caught glimpses of my authenticity. It didn’t happen in one day, or one year, but the journey back to womanhood was and is a beautiful one.

 

From Chapter One: The First of the Lasts

“The start of a new school year means new friends and some- times saying goodbye to old ones. The September of your Good- bye Year might also mean saying the first goodbyes to some of the roles that you have taken on as mom. With the last back- to-school night dawns the realization of just how much of your social time is spent with fellow moms, whom you met as you settled into your new roles as purveyor of food, school supplies, and clothes, and conveyer of bodies to class, baseball practice, and dance recital. If your child liked another child, you met the mother, and a friendship was formed. That’s nice. They’re nice. Your friendships are still valid, but ask yourself two questions: Will you spend time with this group after graduation? And what kind of folks might you be spending time with if this had never happened, this being your motherhood?

To Do: Join a New GroupIt can be as easy as taking a class. Are you interested in photography? Not the family-photos-on-the-annual-vacation kind; I’m talking about black-and-white shots of raindrops pearled on a paned window. Maybe you really know how to apply eye shadow. That’s a skill and could be your passion. Take a cosmetics class or volunteer your talents to the makeup department of your community theater and meet like-minded folks. The members of your new tribe may be much older or much younger than you. They may be single, childless, pierced, or Republican, but they will share your passion for the written word, coastal conservation, or a rubber of bridge. Your new group will stimulate a spark in the You of you that has been buried under the weight of years of motherhood. Don’t worry. The flame is still there; it just needs some air.”

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

The Goodbye Year is an inspirational, honest, and hilarious tale of Toni’s approach to the end of an era in the Piccinini household.

For many mothers, a child’s senior year brings about a serious look back on the past eighteen. Every event—from Halloween to Mother’s Day—becomes The Last Time.

Toni Piccinini knows exactly what that’s like, and in The Goodbye Year, she offers the loving support every soon-to-be Empty Nester needs. Think of Toni as your bossy-but-loving Italian auntie, with modern sensibilities and a packed pantry. With the wisdom she’s acquired from saying goodbye three times to her own children, she reassuringly holds your hand while encouraging you through the insanity of the college application process, the rejections and the acceptances, and the teary dorm drop-offs. Even better, she reminds every mother that the best is yet to come—freedom, creativity, flexibility, and the Me Years.

BOOK DETAILS:

Genre: Health & Well Being
Paperback: 264 Pages
Publisher: Seal Press
Publication Date: September 10, 2013
ISBN: 1580054862

PURCHASE LINKS:

              

THANKS TO CRYSTAL AT WOW!,
I
HAVE ONE (1) COPY TO GIVE AWAY.
PRINT-OPEN TO U.S. & CANADA RESIDENTS  EBOOK-OPEN TO ALL
FILL OUT RAFFLECOPTER ENTRY FORM BELOW
GIVEAWAY ENDS OCTOBER 31st AT 6PM EST

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VIA EMAIL AND WILL HAVE 48 HOURS TO RESPOND
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DISCLAIMER
No items that I receive are ever sold…they are kept by me, or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble. I am an IndieBound affiliate. I am providing link(s) solely for visitors that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

 

Guest Authors CAMI OSTMAN and SUSAN TIVE showcase & giveaway ENDED

WELCOME CAMI OSTMAN and SUSAN TIVE


Cami Ostman is an author, editor, life coach and a licensed marriage and family therapist with publications in her field. She blogs at7marathons7continents.com and on the psychologytoday.com blogger team. She has appeared in several publications, including O, The Oprah Magazine, Fitness Magazine, Adventures Northwest, the Mudgee Guardian in Australia, and La Prensa in Chile. Cami is a runner and a dog lover who lives in Bellingham, Washington.  Connect with Cami at these sites:

WEBSITE TWITTER

As a writer, editor and researcher Susan  Tive has worked on a variety of academic articles exploring psychology, feminism and religion. Susan’s interest in these subjects led her to become an editor for several non-fiction titles including Faith and Feminism and Rachel’s Bag. Her new anthology Beyond Belief: The Secret Lives of Women in Extreme Religions will be published in April 2013 by Seal Press.  Connect with Susan at these sites:

WEBSITE

Q&A with Cami and Susan

WHO
If you could meet any author, who would you like to meet? Why them and what would you say?
Cami: I’d like meet Jon Krakauer. I’ve loved how he has been able to do extensive research and then turn that research into compelling stories. Everything he writes is scenic and alive. I’m not sure I’d have anything particular to say to him so much as I’d like to follow him around taking notes while he worked on a book so I could imitate his efforts.
Susan: I would love to sit down and talk with Anne Lamott. I have enjoyed her books for years. Operating Instructions, made me laugh out loud about the challenges of becoming a mother. Bird by Bird, her book about writing is one that I reread every year for inspiration and practical advise. I would love to talk to Anne about how she writes with such a perfect balance between the poignant and the humorous and how she finds the courage to be so honest and brave in sharing her life with her readers. But honestly it would be fun to have her regale me with her famous one-liners so that we could spend most of the time laughing uproariously and wiping away the tears.

WHAT
What is your favorite type of writing? Do you have a favorite? Or would you like to tackle something you haven’t yet?
Cami: I love non-fiction. Because I’ve been both a writing teacher and a family therapist in my professional life, real life stories fascinate me. That being said, I do have a novel in my computer that calls to me and I’d love to take my craft into the realm of fiction long enough to complete that book.
Susan: Ironically, as a reader, I love fiction. Long, epic novels that I can get lost in are my favorites. As a writer I enjoy working with factual and real life material and finding the themes and narrative within it. As a grant writer by profession I have a great deal of fun utilizing this rather rigid format to not only get the facts across but also to create a story that touches at an emotional level as well. For me the goal of my writing is to engage people and get them to care, whether you’re touching an individual or trying to improve the lives of many, writing is an extremely rewarding activity.

WHY
What was the real driving force behind sharing this story and taking it to publication?
Cami: With Beyond Belief, I really felt that many voices would be more powerful than one—or two. Susan and I had talked about our respective experiences inside religious communities for a long time before we pitched our book idea to Seal Press. We understood that to speak about what had happened gave us some sense that we weren’t alone. I hoped that our anthology would allow those who contributed to it to realize they weren’t alone either. But more than that, we wanted to start a conversation in our culture at large. We wanted to say, “Hey look what’s going on. Can we talk about this?”

Susan, what would you add?

The entire writing process has been so rewarding. I’ve enjoyed getting to know and working with all of our amazing writers. Hearing their stories and helping them to edit their work was an invaluable experience. Beyond Belief has been successful in creating a larger community of women who share important experiences. It has gotten important conversations going among people who might not have talked to one another otherwise.

As we’ve been touring and promoting the book we’ve received great feedback from readers who appreciate the stories. If they haven’t gone through the experience they’ve learned more about extreme religions and if they’ve been there they are grateful that these stories are finally being told. Readers tell us they feel less alone and more empowered because they now know the stories of others have gone through the same experiences.

WHERE
Where do you find the inspiration to write? If you don’t have inspiration, what makes you get up each day and write, never knowing if it will be published or not?
Susan: Since I’m primarily a nonfiction writer my inspiration comes from a desire to connect with people through the exploration and understanding of whatever topic I am working with. Often I write because I have questions to ask and writing is the best way to unravel them and find out what lies beneath. Sometimes I just want to share an experience, a feeling, a scene to capture it outside of myself so that others can share in it too, other times writing is the best way for me to figure out what I am really trying to say.

I am deeply moved by the process of writing. The activity of writing brings forth many different parts of myself. I like the fact that it is deeply personal and yet to reach full fruition must be oh so very public. I’m a shy person who wants and needs to communicate, the intimacy and safety of the written word is where I find my voice.

Cami: Some days I have inspiration and some days I don’t. I suppose I always feel compelled to DO something with the thoughts that crowd my head. Writing is the best thing I know. Whether I’m blogging or writing my own story or playing with fiction, I’m taking what’s going on inside and letting the page (or computer screen) hold it for me. Many days I don’t write anything worth publishing, but when I do hit on something I think will be interesting or useful to others, I feel excited.

When I coach writers, I tell them to make a commitment to write 500 words a day as a minimum. That can be harder than you’d think, especially when you know most of those words will only live in your own files. Still, this keeps you going, and some of those words will stick around and become work that feels significant.

WHEN
When will we see another book from you? Any sneak peeks for us at your WIP?
Susan: It’s been hard for me to keep from dreaming up a bunch of new anthology topics because Beyond Belief was so much fun. Currently I’m working on a memoir. It’s an interesting story about the ten plus years I lived as an Orthodox Jew in a small community in New Mexico. In it I explore many of the same questions we asked in Beyond Belief. Why would a modern well-educated young mother become religious? What did she gain and lose? My story has an interesting twist that I think many readers will be surprised by. Although I take on a religious lifestyle that limits my freedom and choices I actually thrive in the religious community. Because of the strong friendships and community support Orthodoxy provides I gain the strength I need to overcome major obstacles and radically change my life. It’s sure to be a page-turner!
Cami: Well, I just got back from Japan where I did some research for a new book I’m tentatively calling Chasing the Goddess. I’m in the process of visiting several sacred sites where the divine feminine has been or is revered. I’ve posted some pictures on my travel blog: 7marathons7continents.com. If anyone is interested in following along, they can sign up for my newsletter on my coaching site: camiostman.net.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Beyond Belief addresses what happens when women of extreme religions decide to walk away. Editors Susan Tive (a former Orthodox Jew) and Cami Ostman (a de-converted fundamentalist born-again Christian) have compiled a collection of powerful personal stories written by women of varying ages, races, and religious backgrounds who share one commonality: they’ve all experienced and rejected extreme religions.

Covering a wide range of religious communities—including Evangelical, Catholic, Jewish, Mormon, Muslim, Calvinist, Moonie, and Jehovah’s Witness—and containing contributions from authors like Julia Scheeres (Jesus Land), the stories in Beyond Belief reveal how these women became involved, what their lives were like, and why they came to the decision to eventually abandon their faiths. The authors shed a bright light on the rigid expectations and misogyny so often built into religious orthodoxy, yet they also explain the lure—why so many women are attracted to these lifestyles, what they find that’s beautiful about living a religious life, and why leaving can be not only very difficult but also bittersweet.

Read an excerpt

Body Language

By Pam Helberg

My parents and I had just returned from a long Sunday morning at church and I was starving. During the last half hour of services I had tried in vain to sing and pray loudly so that no one could hear the deep empty sounds coming from my gut. As soon as we got home and I changed out of my church clothes I headed straight for the kitchen to make myself a toasted cheese sandwich and a cup of tomato soup, my favorite Sunday lunch. My thoughts were focused so intently on getting the bread perfectly browned in the frying pan that I didn’t see or hear my parents suddenly double-team me. Dad came from the living room while Mom snuck up behind me from the dining room, tears streamed down both of their faces.

“Pam Sue, your mother and I need to talk to you,” my father said tightly, his voice modulated to neutral with a hint of loving concern.

Uh oh, I thought, this cannot be good. I turned off the stove and scanned the kitchen for a possible escape. They each blocked a doorway, effectively making me their prisoner. I took a deep breath. “Why? What’s up?”

“Sit down.” My mother stepped away from her post and pulled a chair out for me. I intuited that I should obey.

“Pam Sue, your mother and I love you very much.” This loving concern, these tears, felt like a bad omen.

“I love you too,” I said with a slight hint of a question. My stomach clenched with dread. I knew what was coming next.

“What is this this this… sickness? Are you and Chris lovers?” my mother blurted out.

My heart jumped and my eyes stopped focusing, the kitchen began to spin.

“We are very concerned for you, young lady. We don’t want you to go to hell.” My father began sobbing. His face bright red. “We don’t want to spend eternity without you.”

I had never seen my father cry, and his unmasked emotion scared me. I couldn’t look at him. My desire to run away grew stronger.

“What kind of game are you two playing?”

“We know you are more than just friends,” my mother spit out. “What you girls are doing is a sin. You will go to hell.”

This omnipresent threat of hell had dictated most of my choices throughout adolescence, and while I wasn’t always a good Christian girl, I did spend much of my time pleading with God for forgiveness, hoping for redemption so I wouldn’t spend my hereafter burning and screaming and gnashing my teeth with the unrepentant masses.

“Pam,” my dad said, “we can’t just sit back and watch you destroy your chance for eternal life.”

I could feel my face growing hot with anger and panic. I looked down at my hands to avoid my parents’ eyes. I couldn’t speak.

“I almost died having you,” mom said through her sobs,” and I will not sit back and watch you go to hell.”

I knew the story of my birth, but this was the first time my mother had wielded it as a weapon for Christ. I recoiled, ever more certain that, until I’d met Chris, my whole life had felt awkward and out of sync, and now things were beginning to feel good and right. I finally felt loved and known by someone, and seen, instead of hidden, judged, and condemned. The unfairness of it all angered me. Why did my happiness have to result in losing my parents’ love and support? I had just turned eighteen, yes, and I yearned for independence, but I wasn’t ready to be without my family, not yet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, terrified and panicked. I wanted nothing more than for this interrogation to end. “I’ll never do it again. I promise we’ll stop.” I was willing to say anything to make the nightmare end. But my parents weren’t ready to leave the ultimate destiny of my eternal soul in my young and incapable hands, and they demanded I go with my father that very night to see Pastor Gary for a laying on of hands. A healing, they called it. If only it could be that simple.

I was grateful for the silence and the air-conditioning in the car as Dad and I drove to the church later that evening. I didn’t know what was more oppressive, the stifling August heat or the afternoon’s dismal events looping endlessly through my mind. I kept recalling my parents’ insistence that my relationship with Chris would lead me directly to the gates of hell where I would spend eternity suffering in fire and brimstone, smoldering away with the rest of the sinners as we writhed in agony forever. Didn’t I know, they’d asked me repeatedly, that lying with a woman was the most egregious of sins?

Didn’t I know? Of course I knew. I had highlighted 1 Corinthians 6:9 so many times in my Bible that the verse had practically disappeared.

As my father and I left the comfort of the cool car and made our way across the still- steaming tar parking lot and into the stuffy sanctuary, Corinthians thrummed within me along with a multitude of other Bible verses.

Leviticus 20:13: “If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, they must be put to death.” Romans: “Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones. Men committed indecent acts with other men, and received the due penalty for their perversion.”

I knew them all by heart, had memorized each admonition as well as I had memorized the luscious curves and contours, the sweet and secret depths of Chris’s body. How could I not know that what I felt for Chris was a sin? But how could I go forward without her? I couldn’t, not in this life. I would worry later about the hereafter.

As I trudged after my father up to Pastor Gary’s office, I left my body, remembering the very first time Chris and I had indulged in what I had been taught were perverse and unnatural relations. We had met at summer camp a year before and immediately became inseparable. After camp was over, although we lived about two hundred miles apart, we often spent the weekends at each other’s houses, always sharing a bed, snuggling before sleep, a habit that had begun at camp.

That First Night was just another night after a long day of hiking and stealing furtive and passionate kisses on the trails near my house, dinner with the family, a bit of television — yet I felt a new, more powerful longing welling up within me. On That First Night a surge of confidence and courage coursed through me as I moved my hands over Chris’s lean athletic body, holding my breath and daring myself to touch her in new and forbidden places: under the waistband of the boxers she wore as pajamas, farther up and under the T-shirt that covered her taut stomach and firm breasts. She did not stop my curious fingers, welcoming my explorations with subtle shifts of her body and small happy sounds. As my fingertips found tender and exquisite flesh, I breathed heavily, and moaned softly. Soon, we were moving together, her hands now on me too, desperately seeking each other’s soft spaces. Our bodies pulsed as one as sweet instinct enveloped us. I clung to her, sharing this fierce and lovely ride until rainbows arched from my toes and our breathing slowed, my hands still exploring, caressing her damp and trembling limbs.

“Welcome home,” Chris whispered and kissed me softly on the lips. Home indeed. My world immediately felt complete, as my mysterious adolescent yearnings resolved into this new expression, these new ways of speaking to the girl I loved. For a few minutes in the quiet aftermath, I reveled in this fresh intimacy, in the joy of our mutual exploration and discovery.

But later That First Night my euphoria came to an abrupt end when I panicked, suddenly terrified I had just doomed myself to eternity in a pit full of wailing, burning sinners. By finally giving in to temptations I had fought my entire adolescence, had I just succumbed to earthly pleasures and forfeited any heavenly rewards? I leapt from the bed and hastily recovered my abandoned pajamas. I looked briefly at Chris, who slept peacefully already, and ran up the stairs to the living room where I flopped into my father’s recliner and prayed. I tried to speak in tongues, but, as usual, the special prayer language eluded me and I settled for plain English.

My church taught that the gift of speaking in tongues is bestowed upon believers who are baptized in the Holy Spirit. Mere mortals receive this special language, a secret code, in order that they might have a direct and private conversation with the Lord. So far, I was not one of those chosen to have this gift. I’d always feared that God had long ago abandoned me as lost.

“Dear Lord Jesus,” I begged, feeling the creeping weirdness I always felt when talking to this Invisible Being I was supposed to be devoted to, for, while I had been raised in the church, its yoke weighed on me, heavy and uncomfortable. “What have I done?” I cried. “What shame have I brought upon your holy name? Forgive me, Father. Forgive me for giving in to Satan’s temptations and earthly pleasures. Help me, Lord, help me to resist these terrible urges, to look only upon you and your love for me. I love you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus,” I muttered and rocked in the recliner. “Forgive me, forgive me.” As I pleaded for my very soul, still a small part of me was not quite ready for redemption, not ready to dismiss as sinful the completeness Chris and I had just shared. I was so wracked with guilt and righteous anger that I didn’t hear Chris come up the stairs. I jumped at her touch and her voice.

“Where’d you go?” she whispered, genuinely puzzled. “Why are you in here?”

Darkness enveloped the living room so I could just make out her silhouette.

“What are you doing?” She moved closer, touched my shoulder.

“Praying,” I said, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Why?”

“Because we shouldn’t have.” I answered, my conviction waning the moment I saw her. “What we just did, it’s a sin.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I said. “Romans 13:12, ‘Don’t participate in sexual promiscuity and immorality…” my voice trailed off, and when she took my hand and gently pulled me from the recliner and led me back down the stairs, back to bed, I did not resist.

Thoughts of Chris, our bodies entwined, our fingers and lips seeking each other’s pleasures, filled my mind as Dad and I entered Pastor Gary’s windowless office where I imagined I could smell the stench of sin: burning human flesh, brimstone, fear. Pastor Gary was a stocky man, balding with wisps of black hair, dressed in a black T-shirt, black jeans, black cowboy boots. He reminded me of Neil Diamond. I hated Neil Diamond.

“Pamela, I am just very pleased that your daddy spoke with me about your afflictions,” he drawled in a leftover Texas twang. “I am so excited to pray with you tonight, to cast these demons of homosexuality out, to let our good Lord and Savior in to heal your wounded soul.” His feeble attempts to reassure me only scared me more.

He motioned for us to kneel in front of his massive walnut desk, on the plush rose- colored carpet. My father knelt to my left and put his hands on my head and lower back. Pastor Gary knelt in front of me, his hands on each of my shoulders, closed his eyes, and began beseeching God to join us. I closed my eyes compliantly, but the anger I’d felt earlier in the kitchen was still swirling inside me, faster and more furious than before. I wasn’t ready for this “demon” to be cast out of me, no matter what the consequences.

“Jesus! Holy Spirit, Heavenly Father, gloooooorious Son of God, be here with us now,” he commanded. “Touch this young woman, fill her with your love and forgiveness.”

“Yes, Jesus,” my father said softly. “Touch Pam with your healing love.” Hearing my father’s voice calmed me a little. I suddenly remembered to breathe.

For a few beats, the two men waited expectantly, ready for Christ Himself to burst through the door, sword drawn, prepared to do some serious spiritual battle with my homosexual inclinations. I desperately needed a way out of this prison of love and good intention I’d found myself locked in. As the men continued to murmur quietly, my mind drifted back to Chris and what she would think of me in this particular situation. I had given up trying to explain my family’s faith to her after that first night. She refused to understand, having been raised Catholic (who are not even real Christians according to our church). Evidently the saints interceded on her behalf and the afterlife was of no serious concern to her. Besides, as our intimacy deepened, I saw absolutely no benefit in pushing my crazy religious beliefs on someone fortunate enough to have escaped them thus far.

I remained trapped between the bliss of our love—this new intimate language we were learning — and an absolute fear of divine retribution. My god was an angry god, an Old Testament god, a god who did not take kindly to any sort of sexual activity unless performed within the confines of a traditional marriage, and, I suspected, only then in the missionary position and for procreative purposes (though to say this out loud would have only revealed the deepening fissure between my parents’ faith and my own budding certainties).

Pastor Gary’s voice boomed, startling me out of my reverie. “Hahkahlafalafalah. Holy Spirit, be with us now. Hahkawaffleahfalalah. Hahkahwaffle waffle ah.”

Those chosen to speak in tongues allegedly all receive different prayer languages, and, like snowflakes, no two are alike. To my ear, they all sounded eerily similar, and Pastor Gary’s sounded disturbingly like a Saturday morning breakfast order at IHOP.

“Jee-suzzzzzz, have mercy on this child’s soul. In your name we command the demons of homosexuality to leave her now! Malakalafalafala makawaffle ah.” As Pastor Gary did his best to cast the demons out, I silently begged them to stay.

I sensed my father muttering in his own prayer language next to me; I fixated briefly on his short aspirations and the occasional soft pop as he moved his lips. I could hear him fighting back tears, reminding me of the risks I faced if I chose Chris over eternal life.

Could hell be any worse than being trapped on my knees in this office, being prayed for against my will for demonic forces to depart from my body? — forces that gave me both great pleasure and terrible guilt. I could not imagine life without Chris, never touching her again, but I also couldn’t imagine going on without the support of my family. Eternal agony of endless burning, endless suffering, loomed all too real for me side-by- side with something I didn’t even understand about myself. I knew I had to figure out a way, at least temporarily, to keep both my family and my relationship with Chris. If Judgment Day were to arrive anytime soon, God could see how I was trying to do the right thing, couldn’t He? Maybe He would see fit to at least let me past the pearly gates. I didn’t need a mansion made of gold, just a small humble cabin far away from hell’s furnace — and someone to love. I started to tremble.

As my knees grew achy and my spine stiffened and my feet got numb, I remembered all the other times people had prayed over me, all the times I had answered the altar call and gone forward at the end of the church services to receive my own baptism in the Holy Spirit, my own secret language. So many believers I couldn’t count had laid their hands on me or waved their arms in the air over me as they prayed for God to touch me with His grace, prayed that I would be slain in the Spirit and receive His secret code. But each time I went forward, desperate for this spiritual currency, I came away speaking only English and some rudimentary high school Spanish. Now, tired of fighting a confusing internal fight and sad for my parents, who loved both God and me, I continued to tremble on my knees in Pastor Gary’s office, knowing that both men would attribute my involuntary shaking to God working within me. Only I knew that I shook with the fear of making an impossible choice. Emotionally exhausted, I just wanted to go home.

I took a deep breath and tried to get myself under control.

A simple solution to my immediate dilemma was within my own power, I just had to use it. I cleared my throat and tried to act confident.

“Barreemabeanabarreemah,” I raised my arms slightly, palms up. “Barreemabeanahbean.” No demons left my body, and my head didn’t spin around while I projectile vomited, but my soul floated above us, hovering over this strange trio trying to make sense of the scene.

“Hakabarreemabeanabarreemah,” I gave the R’s a trill for authenticity. “Barremabean. Holy Spirit, thank you.”

I felt Pastor Gary and my father relax next to me. They continued to murmur in their prayer languages, thanking Jesus over and over:

“Praise you, Jesus.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

“Thank you, Jesus.”

“Praise you, Lord.”

“Amen,” I interjected, hoping to wrap things up.

“Amen!” Pastor Gary agreed emphatically.

“Praise the Lord,” my father said, weeping for the second time that day. “Praise the Lord.”

As we walked back to the car, Dad put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze. “I love you, kiddo,” he said.

“I love you too,” I said. I knew I had won an important, if temporary, reprieve from the impossible choice I would someday have to make. I had no idea of the struggles that lay ahead as I learned to speak the new language of my love for Chris while uttering the secret words that kept me bound to my family and friends.

If life begins with the splitting of a cell, my lesbian life began that night in Pastor Gary’s study. I was not made free from my burdens, but I split into two selves. My inner and outer being were forced to separate, setting me on a long and arduous path to rediscover what would make me whole again.

BOOK DETAILS:

Genre: Non Fiction, Women’s Studies
Publisher: Seal Press
Publication Date: April 2, 2013
ISBN-10: 1580054420
ISBN-13: 978-1580054423

PURCHASE LINKS:

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ADDENDUM
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Guest Author JULIA ASEL THOMAS showcase & giveaway ENDED

WELCOME JULIA ASEL THOMAS

JULIA ASEL THOMAS

Julia Asel Thomas writes stories with vivid descriptions, authentic dialogue and revealing narration. Her debut book, Loving the Missing Link, presents the engrossing and moving story of a young, small town girl who grows up, lives and loves while trying to find a balance between despair and hope.

Like the protagonist in her debut book, Loving the Missing Link, Julia Asel Thomas knows small town life. However, Julia’s experiences were quite different than Cheryl’s. Julia is the middle child of seven children and the daughter of a church organist and a business manager. Growing up in the small town of Hamilton, Missouri, Julia’s family enjoyed a reputation as a bright and interesting family. Julia thrived on the quiet and carefree life she lived in that gentle place.

When Julia was in high school, she earned a scholarship for a trip to Cali, Colombia as a foreign exchange student. The experience, although it only lasted a few brief months, had a profound influence on the rest of her life. After her time abroad, Julia realized in a very real way that, although customs may differ from culture to culture, the substance of human emotions is constant. We all need love. We all need to feel secure. We all have happy moments and sad moments. Back from Colombia, Julia become ever more interested in capturing these human emotions through music and writing.

After high school, Julia took a break before going on to college. During this time, she married her husband, Will. Will joined the Air Force, and Julia accompanied him to bases around the country, taking college classes in each town where they resided. Their two children were born in Las Vegas, Nevada, while Will was stationed at Nellis Air Force Base. Married in 1976, Julia and Will are thrilled to celebrate each new anniversary and look forward to staying together for life.

Julia began writing fiction at the age of ten, when her 5th grade teacher gave her the assignment to write about “My Worst Day.” Julia took the opportunity to concoct every possible disaster a young child could face during the course of a normal day. The teacher loved her work and asked her to read it to the class. From then on, Julia wanted nothing more than to be a writer.

In 2007, Julia began earning her living by writing articles, press releases and website content for a number of clients. As she settled into a routine of working every day on her writing, the old urge to write fiction resurfaced. In 2012, Julia started with a story she had written in 1985 and continued it to create the story in Loving the Missing Link.
After Julia’s husband, Will retired from the Air Force, they moved back to Missouri and now live in Kansas City, Missouri. Find out more about this author by visiting her online:
Connect with Jlia at these sites:

WEBSITE        TWITTER   

GUEST POST

“Life Long Learning and Self-Education”

Is education an institution, run by the government, prestigious private organizations or religious groups? When I was younger, I thought so. The trouble with that attitude is that I still wanted to keep learning whether I was ensconced in one of those organizations or not. And, especially in the digital age, there is no reason learning has to end when the school doors close. Lifelong learning and self-education have become increasingly popular these days, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

I began my quest for self-education during the years I was following my husband around in his Air Force career. I did go to college off and on as I was able. But there were always in-between times when I would arrive at a college town at the wrong time to begin the semester when it started. Yet, I didn’t want to put my education on hold for those months. That is when I became involved in self-education.

Yet, even then learning outside of school was not a new concept for me. My mother read to me, and all my brothers and sisters, nearly every day of our early childhood. My father also read to me at night sometimes later on, usually out of a chapter book like Tom Sawyer. Music in our house ran the gamut from Tchaikovsky to Johnny Cash. It was an intellectually rich environment to grow up in.

As I grew older, I began to choose my own intellectual adventures. Someone would talk about a subject that I didn’t know much about, and I was off to the library to learn more. If I knew someone who was familiar with the subject, I would pester them until they told me enough about the subject to satisfy my curiosity.

I once took an English course in which we were asked to read, “Working” by Studs Terkel. The book is a series of interviews with everyday people about their jobs. I found it fascinating. After that, I always asked the people I met about their jobs. About whether they enjoyed their jobs, what their responsibilities were on the jobs, and about how they got their jobs in the first place. This is one instance where traditional education spurred me on to pursue a different kind of education outside the classroom.

Now, whenever I learn about a new subject, I get on my computer and find out what I can. The biggest challenge is sifting through all the dreck to discover reliable information. But, after doing this for years, I have learned more about how to find those sites and how to evaluate them.

I am much older now than I was when I spent those Saturdays running off to the library, but I am not too old to keep learning. I don’t think I ever will be. My father once told me, “No matter what you lose in this life, no one can ever take away your education.” I have remembered that statement through the good times and the bad. I am more committed than ever to exploring my interests and the world around me.

I think I will be like my mother as I get older. She lamented one day that she didn’t understand why she was still stuffing her head full of information, even though she believed she would never have the opportunity to use any of it. I hope I was able to reassure her and help her see that education is useful, but it is also an end unto itself. No matter how old you get or what your circumstances may be, life-long learning is a joy and a quest that is well worth the effort.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Loving the Missing Link is a fabulous tale about love, success, hope and music. During the 1970’s. Young Cheryl Simpson feels trapped in her small Missouri town. As her mother tries to help her find a way up and out, Cheryl begins to feel that it is all an impossible dream. She sees herself living a boring and dismal life for the rest of her days. Just at the moment when she is about to give up on happiness, she gets the opportunity to join her high school band. The band promises a connection with the world outside her town, but Cheryl does not see any future for herself in music. It is just a tool to get where she wants to go. However, Cheryl’s mother arranges for Cheryl to take private lessons with an accomplished musician, who helps her realize the beauty and awesome power of music.

Still, Cheryl feels that small-town inferiority and finds it too hard to believe that she could ever be anyone special out in the “real” world. On the eve of a music contest that could help her earn a music scholarship, Cheryl begins to panic. Scared and feeling alone, Cheryl runs off with her high school sweetheart and gets married, leaving the band behind.

During the next years, Cheryl and her husband make a life for themselves. Cheryl meets friends along the way who help guide her to becoming the woman she wants to be. She becomes interested in the arts again. All the while, Cheryl and husband Jerry face the challenges of homelessness, miscarriage and an extra-marital affair before an unexpected disaster brings Cheryl’s life crashing to the ground. Cheryl survives, with the help of her extraordinary friends and her life-long love for music.

BOOK DETAILS:

Publisher: CreateSpace
Publication Date: August 6, 2013
Number of Pages: 190
 ISBN10: 1480106240

PURCHASE LINKS:

           

THANKS TO CRYSTAL AT WOW!,
I
HAVE ONE (1) COPY TO GIVE AWAY.
PRINT-OPEN TO U.S.and CANADA  EBOOK-OPEN TO ALL
FILL OUT RAFFLECOPTER ENTRY FORM BELOW
GIVEAWAY ENDS SEPTEMBER 25th AT 6PM EST

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WINNER WILL BE CHOSEN BY RAFFLECOPTER AND NOTIFIED
VIA EMAIL AND WILL HAVE 48 HOURS TO RESPOND
OR ANOTHER NAME WILL BE CHOSEN

a Rafflecopter giveaway

YOUR JAVA SCRIPT MAY NEED TO BE UPDATED
IF YOU AR EXPERIENCING DIFFICULTY
USING THE RAFFLECOPTER ENTRY FORM

DISCLAIMER
No items that I receive are ever sold…they are kept by me, or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble. I am an IndieBound affiliate. I am providing link(s) solely for visitors that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.