Review for The Scarlet Ribbon… #Supernatural Romance #Excerpt @dlfinnauthor

Nothing quite like the unexpected review to brighten our days and remind us why write…

Lately, we have needed a break from the constant struggle to stay cheerful, what with our health problems and the terrible weather.

Miserable grey skies do little to cheer us up, so when something unexpected happens, it is very welcome.

This wonderful review from D L Finn really brought the sunshine back!

“Scarlet Ribbon” is a story that made me wonder about the afterlife and what is in between.
Maggie was out with her husband when she was run down by a car. She ended up in a coma for two long years, but her time became relative as she found herself in a strange place. Her body was in the hospital, but her mind or soul was experiencing a different reality.
While she was under, she could see what her husband was doing and was taken to other worlds and the past. She wanted to help, especially a young girl. There was cruelty and a blissful existence that coincided in the different places.
As she seeks answers to her dilemma, she finds out more than she wanted to about how sheltered a life she had and people’s true side. I have always wondered what goes on when people are in a coma, and this was a fascinating idea of what could happen. There never seems to be one simple answer or outcome to Maggie’s desires.
I love her determination to do what is right, but within her new world, I felt her confusion as she bounced from one situation to another. I was rooting for the person she connected with on the other side. The story picked up the pace when she emerged from the coma, and work began for her to heal and try to remember.
The ending was a surprise but didn’t feel done just yet. I hope there are more versions of her life to come and I will be reading them.

Thank you so much, Denise!

Excerpt from The Scarlet Ribbon

I had no idea how long I lay there in the darkness, talking to myself, half hoping that someone or something would hear me and show me the way out. I felt like a defence lawyer, pleading my case before an invisible judge, promising all sorts of things for a second chance. I’d be more patient, and more caring and help all those who needed it. After all, thirty wasn’t a good age to die. That was my final plea. I’d be as good as anyone could be if they’d let me live out the rest of my life with Jack.

But who were ‘they’? Who the hell was I talking to? There didn’t seem to be anyone with me in that dark, empty void.

That’s when I realised I hadn’t left even a small part of myself behind. No children. For the first time, I felt regret. Jack and I had decided that we didn’t need children; we were enough for each other and didn’t want to share our lives with smaller versions of ourselves.

During our second year together, we had allowed one small invasion of our privacy in the form of a tiny black kitten. She’d been dumped in the rain in a brown paper carrier bag like unwanted garbage. It was soaking wet, skinny, and hardly able to walk. I remember taking her home and the look on Jack’s face when I took her out from inside my coat, her dark, spiky fur almost dry from the heat of my body.

It was love at first sight, and we took turns that night feeding her baby milk and comforting her. The following day Jack said he couldn’t stand the smell any longer.

‘She’s got to have a bath, Maggie. She’s a sorry state.’

So that’s what we called her, Sorry. And that’s exactly how I feel now, sorry that we didn’t have a child, someone to remember us, to talk about us when we were gone. But it wasn’t too late; I wasn’t too old, and there was still time…

Jaye’s Days… My Perfect Moment…

After what has seemed like a very long time, I have found my perfect moment.

I finally managed to get to the sea, and the sun was shining. A strong breeze from the water created some medium-sized but beautiful waves.

We had visited this beach the week before, but the weather was atrocious that day, and we nearly froze. The weather report was more favourable yesterday, so we made the journey again.

I have been trying to snatch a few precious moments to get my sea fix, and it was beginning to look like it might never happen.

The sea is my soul mate and very special to me. I need to commune with the spirits of the deep regularly.

Seeing how my health seems to be slowly deteriorating, I need to keep my soul happy, or I may give up. So yesterday was invaluable for several reasons.

Once on the seafront, the family were busy fussing about coffee or something to eat, but the sea was calling me, and I wandered slowly down the shingle beach and headed for the water. Almost immediately, the deafening sound of the waves beaching and the sweeter sound of the water filtering through the shingle lifted me out of this world. A world where I was completely at home.

I wanted to sit down, stay awhile, and enjoy the moment, but the shingle was wet, so I perched on a breakwater, mesmerised by the crashing waves.

I managed to film my perfect long-awaited moment on my phone, so I could share the moment with you…

Silent Sunday… Autumn in waiting…

Image by yoshitaka2 from Pixabay 

Today will be a good day… I am writing the new WIP!

Your Inner Eye… #Poetry

The image is from Sarolta Bán Photography.
Your Inner Eye


This forest of trees my son
Is a tribute to all the great artists
who walked the earth many years ago
There are those that paint 
The star filled skies
Jewels that dance above our head
Like Van Gogh's Starry Night
Monet painted the ground
Gardens to dream in
So many of us do not have the inner eye
To see the beauty
To have the desire to capture on canvas
Without the hands that held paintbrushes
The world would be a duller place
Not forgetting, the many that decorate 
The churches, cathedrals, places of worship
With a little added inspiration of coloured glass
If you can feel it in your heart
You might find your inner eye…

© Anita Dawes 2021

New Life… #Poetry

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay 

New Life


Slow running rivers through summer breeze
Winter leaves fallen, carrying new life
Eaten by time, flowing backwards
Every moment ticking into eternity
Time folding in on itself, taking back
Winter snow covering all the sharp edges
Arriving at your destination, time slows
Turning your feet to snow, your breath laboured
Every step turning your body in on itself
Reverse your steps, find that slow running river, step in…


©AnitaDawes2022

We love snow, but will we get any this year?

Jaye’s Journal… From a Reader to a Writer…

From a Reader to a Writer

I have always enjoyed reading books. Mainly for the sense of escapism involved. Somewhere you can forget about your own life and live someone else’s, albeit vicariously.

It has been a blessing, sometimes more than at other times, depending on how my own life was going at that moment.

I honestly believe that reading books has kept me sane. They have taught me practically everything I know, for if I need or want to know how to do something, I turn to books to find out. Nowadays, we have the internet, but in my youth, all we had were books.

These days, something else has been added to my enduring love affair with the printed word. Putting it quite simply, they have inspired me to write. You could say that the art of reading could do this anyway, to anyone. But up until a few years ago, I was unaware of this. They were my retreat, my sanctuary. Nothing else.

But then everything changed.

I had always been a compulsive reader, consuming anything I could get my hands on. I didn’t discriminate and read everything. If asked to list my favourite authors, I would have been hard pushed, for I loved them all.

Somewhere along the way, I have developed a ‘criterion’. I no longer just read a book. My brain seems intent on sifting the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. Who knew it could have that kind of opinion?

Two pages into a book, and if it is not talking to me by then, I discard it and try another. These days I love the kind of books that inspire me and make my fingers want to pick up a pen. Not to copy or emulate but to write down how the author has made me feel. Sometimes I find myself with a book in one hand and a notebook in the other.

It’s as if a doorway has been opened in my mind. Artists say colours work for them; for me, it’s the power of the words and how they are used.

Something else has changed in me. I have always considered myself reasonably adept with the English language. It was my favourite lesson at school, and over the years, as I have said before, it has saved my sanity on many occasions.

For the first time in my life, I have doubts, and they are growing all the time. I have helped other people edit and proofread their books and have been totally convinced I was good at it. Many people (including an agent) once said that I was. I have also reviewed dozens of books along the way.

But that was before I picked up a pen and wrote a story of my own. I never expected it to be as hard as it was, for words usually came easily to me. But I discovered a very important fact about writing a book. Not only must it have a beginning, middle and end, but it must also flow, make perfect sense and be interesting to read.

It also has to have structure and subplots; the list was endless. I discovered to my horror that I was not as clever as I thought when the pen was in my hand! Words tend to come at me in a rush, short spasms of prose that seem quite eloquent at the time but appear quite truncated when you attempt to join them all together. So much so that I nearly gave up several times.

I began to seriously doubt I could ever be a writer, that this wasn’t something I could simply learn how to do. But I persevered, did my absolute best, and after my edits and even more soul searching, I uploaded it onto Amazon, thinking my work was done.

But I was wrong.

In my haste to achieve something that will hopefully outlast me, I forgot the most important step of all. Someone else should have read it first. Someone objective, who would come to it afresh, with no desire or agenda to bin it at the first error.

I learned that I can’t see my manuscript with a subjective eye. You cannot possibly hope to, really, because you have lived with it for so long. I wrongly assumed the reverse would be true, that the fact you created every word would make you more than qualified.

This was all so long ago, and I have learned so much more since then…

Happy Thanksgiving… #MLMM #Wordle 297 #Poetry

Image by Terri Cnudde from Pixabay 

Don’t do it, don’t count 
the droplets on your window
Wait for the family to arrive
They are an unexpected gift in life
A reason for thanksgiving, for celebration
I brush away the dark reality
where the black butterfly lives
In my head, tormenting my waking hours
Vigorous dusting of my thoughts
took longer than I expected
I decided to make the day memorable
Finally, I can predict a happy new year…


©AnitaDawes2022

Anatomy of a Best Seller #Review @sacha_black

                      

Do you wish you could write like your favorite authors? Do you want to improve your writing? If you want to power up your stories, write with your readers in mind, and deliver what the market wants, this book is for you.

In The Anatomy of a Best Seller, you’ll discover:

A step-by-step guide to deconstructing your favorite books so you can utilize the tools of winning authors.
Tips and tricks for breaking down everything from sentence level prose to plot, pacing, characters, story arcs, and more.
A comprehensive guide to understanding your market and what readers want.
Tactics for turning the lessons and tools you find into practical prose and stories.
The Anatomy of a Best Seller is a comprehensive guide that will help you break down the best books in your genre, understand how and why they work, and then learn how to do it yourself.

By the end of the book, you’ll be armed with the methods you need to deconstruct best sellers, understand the tools those authors are using, and how to implement them in your own work.

If you like dark humor and learning through examples, then you’ll love Sacha Black’s guide to deconstructing winning books. Read The Anatomy of a Best Seller today and start writing your best seller.
    

Our Review

I have always wanted to know why some books become best sellers and some don’t. So when I saw The Anatomy of a Best Seller by my friend and excellent writer, Sacha Blake, I knew I was about to find out.

Sacha is a wonderful writer, and her helpful, well-written books for writers everywhere should be gold-plated, as I have always found them easy to understand, totally absorbing and exceedingly helpful.

I have learned so much from Anatomy of a Best Seller, and I am convinced it will help me to get further up the ladder!

Amazon Review

“If you’ve ever wondered what catapults a title to bestseller status, then this book is for you. The Anatomy of a Bestseller had me both laughing out loud and tearfully wishing it had existed sooner. With her trademark humour, let Sacha Black take you through her step-by-step process for identifying what makes a book truly sing. A must-read for all authors who are serious about success and shaping their work into list-worthy stories from the get-go.” Helen Scheuerer, bestselling fantasy author.