Not Fun Anymore by Helen Henderson

 

Windmaster Golem
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A rule often taught to fiction writers is adversity. Depending on the storyline and character, the author's job is to throw roadblocks into their creation's plans and make their life "interesting." While you can be told it is a blessing, "May you live in interesting times" can be a curse. This post covers a few examples of how "interesting" life can be from the mildly annoying to decisions that can change the direction of the someone's life.

The post, Green Plant versus Brown Thumb, discusses my history with gardening and my current attempt to grow tomatoes and onions. None of the onion plants prospered. Since none of my family had any better luck, I didn't feel too bad.

The tomato plants are the reason for the title of today's post. Why? Overnight they went from thriving, fruit-laden plants to defoliated sticks. And the tomatoes that were just about to blush went from food to garbage. The zen aspect of gardening and the pleasure of watching the plants grow vanished. It was not fun anymore. The plants had survived heat indexes of 105 to 110°F to succumb to four-inch long, green, ill-tempered hookworms that teleported in from nowhere. 

Image by Margaret Martin from Pixabay

How does this relate to writing? Not every situation has to be life-threatening. Even simple, everyday situations such as a bill arriving after a due date or being late to an appointment can be the setting for tension and "interesting" times.

When Kiansel hears the summons to the council fire in Windmaster Golem, her problem isn't that she will be late for the ceremony. Unlike the nervousness of the younger mages who know their destiny, Kiansel is unsure whether or not she will attend at all. For in doing so she might succumb to the lure of magic

Image by Comfreak from Pixabay

In Fire and Amulet (coming spring 2022), the environment makes life interesting for dragon slayer Deneas. Ahead of her is an impassible hedge row of poisonous, thorn bushes. Retreat means risking going beneath stone-laden ledges ready to collapse. Her only logical path is to walk the stones of a washout and freestyle climb a cliff face to get past places where the path eroded away.

 

To purchase the Windmaster Novels: BWL

~Until next month, stay safe and read. Helen

Find out more about me and my novels at Journey to Worlds of Imagination.  Follow me online at Facebook, Goodreads or Twitter

Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky who have adopted her as one the pack. 

Do you believe in Fate? by Heather Greenis

I must admit, I do. Fate brought me and my husband together.

Amazon

 I can’t say it was love at first sight. Not even close. He was a client at the bank I worked at and curled at our local curling club. He was a social curler. I had, and still have a bit of a competitive edge. A bit, is an understatement. I want to win while I have fun.

 So why wasn’t it love at first sight? Well, his wife had a big say in that. Now before you ruffle your feathers, allow me to assure you, we did not break up a happy, unhappy or anything in between marriage. A greater being had other plans for his wife which is truly a shame. A friend, she was a remarkable woman. My husband visits her regularly at the local cemetery to chat.

 A few months after his wife passed, the social put us on a team together. During one of our games, he fell and banged his knee on the ice. My first response was ‘Are you okay?’ Honest, I was sincere asking him that. I do have a bit of a heart. But the moment he said he was fine, I burst into laughter. He responded to my laughter with a joking ‘I hurt my %&@$% knee.’  I think he was looking for sympathy. Nope, I wasn’t going to allow him to get all sucky. Instead of sympathizing, I howled with laughter. I can be so mean. Then he laughed at me laughing at him. I think deep down, we both knew, then and there, we had something special. A strong friendship, plus.

         

                                          

I found myself a gentleman who still believes in chivalry. What are the chances? I’m not overly romantic, but I do like being treated like a lady. Hubby opens doors and assists with my coat. Sorry ladies, he does not have a brother. I’ve been asked that more than a few times.

 Best friends, we make each other laugh. Even going through emotional storms, we bring smiles to each others faces. I think storms make a person stronger. They make you dig for your emotional strength.  We still joke about that day on the ice.

 Fate brought my characters, Stewart and Natasha together. A chance meeting at a river. It was love at first sight, but I wasn’t kind to them. Instead, I test their fortitude with twists and turns and chuckles along the way. I do not allow them to wallow in self pity. The saga is not a fairytale romance. Life isn’t like that.

 Stewart possesses my husband’s wit and his intelligence. Don’t tell my husband that. It will be hard to live with his expanded ego.

 I remember when I finished one of my first drafts, I gave the electronic manuscript to my husband. An avid reader, I was half expecting him to say, ‘hmmm, not really my thing.’ A polite way of saying, ‘I don’t like it,’ without the risk of pissing me off.  A happy wife and all that fun stuff.  Instead, his response was, ‘This is good, but you can’t end it there.’

 The four-part continuing saga took me over 10 years to write. The saga grew, new characters were added and developed. Crises and, well … you’ll have to read it for yourself.

 It began as one big book, taking the Donovan family through generations. Too big, around 1200 pages, I decided to break the plot into 4 parts, each ending with a cliff hanger. Natasha’s Dream, Natasha’s Diary, Natasha’s Hope and Natasha’s Legacy, making The Natasha Saga.

Speaking of reading it, I received an amazing review through goodreads. It’s a long review so I’ll just given a wee snippet of it.  The review is from Holly:

 ‘Sometimes I get the rare chance to read a book series or in this case, a saga that leaves me speechless and deeply moved. This series has touched my heart and soul at the deepest level. …Heather Greenis has done a brilliant job as a master storyteller with this saga. Her amazing skills as an author have resulted in a story that will touch each and every reader in the deepest way possible.’

This review tells me, ‘mission successful. I accomplished my goal.’ If you decide to read it, I hope you enjoy the plot.

My website;   http://hgreenis0.wix.com/heather-greenis

When is the right time? Tricia McGill

Buy HERE

It’s always best to know when it is time to leave, or when it is the right time to let go of the past. Some people can never make the right decision and there is nothing more pathetic than hanging on to a love that has obviously shriveled and gone, or a treasured possession that simply has been around too long.

Let me explain why I have been contemplating this subject. The other day I sold two gold rings. Not such a great decision you might think. To start at the beginning, I had to meet someone in another suburb where I knew they had one of these stores where you can either borrow money or sell objects—such as gold and anything else of value, so I thought it a good opportunity to take these rings and some other articles to see what I could get for them. Let me explain this store. It is basically what would, in the old days, have been a pawn shop. You know, where they had three balls hanging outside and an old miser inside behind the counter rubbing his hands together at the money he was about to make out of some poor soul who had hit hard times.

Times haven’t changed so much. Believe me, I was astounded and heartsick when I saw the people in there who were trying to get as much as they could (probably to pay debts). One young fellow had two electric guitars and was being told they weren’t worth much. Not sure how much he eventually received. A woman was selling (or pawning) a necklace and a brooch, and looked shocked at the amount she could get for them. But what was worse was the list on the wall explaining what the repayments would be on a paltry loan. One other young man had a pile of payment receipts in his hand and paid a balance so that he could collect his guitar. It was apparently the day for guitarists to retrieve, or sell their treasured instruments.

I digress, as usual. Back to my two rings. One was the signet ring I gave my husband on his 21^st birthday many moons ago, and the other my wedding ring. Now, you might think it callous of me to even consider selling off these treasures. But it wasn’t by any means. My husband was an inveterate bargainer and liked nothing better than haggling over a price of something. Just ask anyone who knew him what it was like to buy a new car or even a washing machine! He would drag me all over the city to get the right price, and I know he would be pleased for me that I got a good price for a ring he barely wore. He wasn’t a jewellery type of person. And the other ring-mine, wasn’t the cheap little one he placed on my finger in that freezing cold church well over 50 years ago. No, this one was my second ring that he brought back from England as a gift after one of his numerous trips home. It was time to part with both.

I’ve been blessed, as I have never had the awful decision to make of letting a lover go when the love had fizzled out. But I made the decision to let my husband go when the time was right. He passed away in November and it wasn’t until the following March that I knew it was time. I woke up that morning and knew exactly where he was going, so rang my sister to tell her I was going to scatter my husband’s ashes. She and a friend came along with me and I took him to a beautiful spot near where he loved playing golf. I chose this place as it reminded us of Cornwall where we both loved to spend holidays. As I scattered his ashes from a clifftop I told him he could stay around or go home to his beloved England. Soon after that he came to me in a dream. The strange part was, he was wearing a bow tie and dinner suit. Now, he was more comfortable in a track suit and I was lucky to get him to wear a tie once a year, if that. He had obviously dressed up for the occasion to let me know he was going and this was goodbye. I am sure he took my advice and went home to London where he came from. He knew it was time to go and I knew it was time to let him go.

As writers we often like to cling on to our characters. It’s a good thing to know when the time is right to let them go their separate ways. Ask any writer and they will probably tell you they had one favorite they just hated saying goodbye to. For me, when I finished Mystic Mountains I just knew I had to continue on to let readers know how the future mapped out for Tiger and Bella. The intention was to continue on with their eldest son’s story, but Remy intervened and decided he had a better story to tell. Same for Travis, I simply couldn’t let his story end after The Laird, so Travis got his chance to tell how his life went. But then I had to let them go too.

I’ve always believed that life is made up of a series of pathways. We come to a crossroads or fork in the road where we have to make the decision which direction to head off in. I thank the Lord that I have been fortunate enough to choose which path to take (or Fate has helped me) and it has always been the right time for me.

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