Saturday, September 19, 2020

My Grandmother, Maw by J.Q. Rose

 

Terror on Sunshine Boulevard by J.Q. Rose

Rescuing a naked woman lying in a geranium bed? Investigating mysterious murders? These are not the usual calls in a Florida retirement community for volunteer first responder Jim Hart.

Click here to check out more of J.Q.'s mysteries published by BWL Publishing.

Grandparents Day in the USA

Welcome to the Books We Love Insiders Blog where BWL Publishing authors offer insights, updates, excerpts, behind-the-scenes in writing their books and interesting topics for you to ponder.

Last Sunday in the US, we celebrated Grandparents Day. When it first became a national holiday in 1978, greeting card companies and florists got the credit (or the blame) for it. That is not the case. A thoughtful West Virginia woman who wanted to honor grandparents organized the first celebration in 1953 in her state. 

I was in the florist business in 1978 and we welcomed another holiday to promote flowers--and sales! It never really became a big observance. In fact, my kids and grandkids never realize it until AFTER the day! But they do remember me all year, so that's okay.

Today I am sharing a piece to honor my grandmother, Maw. She was the one who spurred me on to be a writer. Perhaps this writing will spark memories of a grandparent or of someone who took on that role for you. Take a few minutes to write down some notes or an entire essay about the memories you recall with your grandparent and share it with your family.  Perhaps this will inspire you to write more about your life and share it with friends and family members. You can do it!

My Grandmother, Maw by J.Q. Rose

My grandmother is the large lady in the middle with her husband (my grandpa who passed before I was born), sisters, brother and niece

Beulah Lee, yes, she’s my mother’s mother, was a schoolteacher. She loved reading and especially loved reading her Bible. She’s the one who pointed out many verses to me and directed me to the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew 6.

 Maw, as she was called by our family, was an intelligent woman who was stubborn as could be. When she made up her mind to do something, she did it and there was no stopping her. She and my father held loud “disagreements” quite a few times.

 She wasn’t exactly a warm, cuddly, mushy kind of grandma who made cookies for every visit. But she did love to sew and made several doll outfits for my beloved Ricky Jr doll on her foot pedal sewing machine.

We had a special connection and not just because we loved to shop. (When her social security check came in, she cashed it into small bills and stuffed it in her wallet. She delighted in showing me the stack of cash she had for us to go shopping.)

We both were readers. Her reading probably spurred my love of reading which in turn developed my desire to write stories for others to read. I began writing little stories when I was in second grade and developed a writer’s bump on my middle finger from writing constantly. (Anyone else get that bump?)

By seventh grade I decided to tackle writing my first novel. The storyline was about a horse and a girl due to my love of the book, Black Beauty. I wrote the entire book on lined yellow tablet paper and showed it to Maw. Taking those awful scribbles of sentences and typing them into a manuscript became her major project.

 Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement when she handed me the typed pages. I almost cried. I was overcome with the idea she had “published” my book for me. I was thankful for her taking the time to work on this manuscript.  She got a kick out of my reaction, but she also loved the story and encouraged me to write more stories for more people to enjoy. From that day forward, I knew I wanted to tell stories and have them published so I could share them with readers.

 I wish Maw were here now to be a part of this writing experience. Somehow I think she is with me with her blue eyes shimmering with pride.

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Arranging a Dream by J.Q. Rose coming in January 2021

In the introduction about Grandparents Day, I mentioned I was in the florist business. If you are interested in what goes on behind-the-scenes in a floral shop and greenhouse operation, check out Arranging a Dream: A Memoir to be released in January 2021 from BWL Publishing. This is the story about pursuing our dream to be entrepreneurs in the floral industry. 

That challenging first year is recorded in the book-- the ups and downs, the doubt, the guilt, the funny, the sad, the joys and wins. Were we a success or a failure? Sorry, I can't tell you that--no spoilers here!

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 Click here to visit JQ online. 


Happy Autumn Season! Be Safe. Be Well.


Favorite Things by Helen Henderson

Windmaster by Helen Henderson

Click the cover for purchase information


Greetings from Tennessee. I am Helen Henderson and pleased to be the newest contributor to the BWL Blog. Since it has been some time since I was a guest here, I thought I'd take the opportunity to introduce myself. A question often asked a writer is when did you first put pen to paper. I won't state the number of years but will just say I've been a storyteller of some shape or form for quite a while. Another authorial hat that is worth mentioning are the local histories and the collection of feature articles under my byline on a wide range of topics including military history and weapons,  archaeology, and antiques. Throw in some museum work and I blame my background not only for a focus on fantasy, but for making the worlds come alive.

Which brings me to the covers from the fantasy romance series, the Windmaster Novels. I love the impression of action and adventure they present. (Special thanks to Michelle Lee for creating them.) I have sailed (notice, I said sailed, not crewed) on a sailboat. And the desert temple inspired by Petra in Windmaster Legacy calls to the historic side of my soul.

There is another story set in the world of Windmaster, however I've stayed with Windmaster and Windmaster Legacy for two reasons. Both deal with the tales of Captain Ellspeth and the archmage, Lord Dal. Their adventures continue in October with the release of Windmaster Golem where a new generation takes over the task of saving the future of magic.

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, 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 and a feisty who have adopted her as one of their pack.


Featured Author S. L. Carlson

 


     This is S. L. Carlson, and I am pleased to be a BWL Publishing Inc. author. My books can be viewed and purchased by visiting https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l

    I have hiked mountains, worked farmlands, and swum in oceans, but best love the woodlands, lakes and rivers, where my settings take place. I have taught grades K-8, along with a multiple other jobs, but anything to do with outdoor adventures is me. While sitting alone in an autumn, I may or may not have been witness to magical creatures.

   War Unicorn: The Ring is the prequel to the three books of The War Unicorn Chronicles. In it, we learn that while removing a dead tree root, how Aldric (aka Rick) first encountered Neighbor, the war unicorn, in an enchanted ring:

 

He sat on the edge of the dug-out trench and kicked at the trunk with both feet. It wiggled, like his little sister Mercy’s, loose tooth. He stood and shoveled another load. Something clinked, and then glinted red in the shovelful of dirt. Aldric picked up the tiny silver box with a silver circle attached. He slipped his finger through the circle. It fit perfectly. Embedded on the lid were three red tear-shaped stones. He spit on it and rubbed the box-ring on his shirt. The gems sparkled in the fading sunlight. His family had never owned anything so grand. He wondered if people in a city like Nimrock wore jewelry like this. Perhaps he could go to there to trade it. The ring was legally theirs, for no one had owned this field before them, except for the king. Maybe they could buy another field with it.

Aldric stuck it in his pocket and pointed at the root. “You will come out.”

This was taking too much time. He flexed his biceps, after two days’ worth of muscle-building from this root, it was time for it to go. The quickest way would be to set the short trunk and root on fire. Unfortunately, the sky was empty of clouds to draw down lightning. That was really a good thing, because his father might cease any more spell-casting lessons if rain clouds suddenly started disappearing, a sure sign magic was afoot.

Fire. He clapped three times to get the attention of the natural elements around him. Little puffs of smoke floated away from between his hands. Calling out their rock family names, Aldric pointed to seven stones, his hand moving to the rhythm of his voice. He continued pointing and singing, directing them like a grand conductor of the choirs of old. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The stones struck against each other. Tiny sparks flew from the encounters.

Aldric sang out in his off-key voice, “You’re going to burn. Ha-ha.”

Stones danced toward the tree root, clashing together and producing more sparks. The root finally caught fire. Aldric put the rocks back to sleep and smiled. He sat cross-legged by the crackling flames, enjoying the warmth on his face while the coolness of the earth soaking into his trousers.

A pulse beat within his pocket, like a heartbeat of a bird. He drew out the ring and held it to his ear, listening. He shook it. His own heartbeat quickened and then slowed to the same rhythm of the ring. He took out his knife and jimmied the lid, flipping it open on an unseen hinge.

Suddenly, the flanks of a white horse appeared. Aldric rolled into the dirt pile to escape the flying hooves. The animal ran about ten paces and then spun, lashing out with its powerful hind legs. She was a beautiful horse, with perfectly formed muscles, but if fire could flare from an animal’s eyes, Aldric felt certain it could come from this one. She looked angry enough to pull the tree root out with her teeth.

Something protruded from her forehead, a long thin branch. Was she hurt? It made her look like a unicorn from one of his mother’s hearth stories.

It’s okay, beauty.” Aldric made a reassuring clicking sound.  “I’ll get that out for you.” He waved his hand and sang a calming song. His cracking voice couldn’t calm a boulder, but he sang anyway.

As her front hooves touched the ground, she bounced back up, head down, branch pointing at Aldric. She charged at him.

Startled, he rolled out of the way. He looked over his shoulder for another assault, afraid the dangerous creature might run at his sisters near the house. But she was gone, vanished as quickly as she appeared. She wasn’t toward the river, or close to the north woods. He scanned the apple orchard near their house. Nothing unusual.

Aldric released his breath, and then breathed in softly as he listened to the land. His fire crackled and wind whispered through dried grass in the field. He could barely hear the Red River rapids in the distance. Perhaps his older sister, Sasha, saw the horse come her way. She spent a lot of time down there lately. Aldric listened harder. The breeze rustled leaves in the orchard, where Mercy and Baby Ann were singing to the trees. Their voices were worth listening to.

Something was missing. Birds. Birds always chirped and flew close to the orchard. Aldric would have thought the whole white horse incident was merely his imagination if not for the silence of the birds.

Then, just as quickly, the birds started up again.

Aldric blinked. “How peculiar.”

The red gems on the closed ring glinted from the orange blaze. It must have closed when he rolled away from the horse. Aldric opened the lid again. In another rush of wind, the white horse reappeared and kicked out with her hind legs. She leapt, barely clearing the flames at the last minute. She turned, snorted, and stomped large front hooves. Her ears lay flat against her head as she stared at him from the other side of the fire. The horn, he was sure it was a horn now, flickered orange. She stood still, breathing heavily, fire in her eyes. Or perhaps that was just the reflection. Aldric extended his arms and re-sang the calming song. The unicorn seemed to cringe. She stared at his finger with the box-ring.

Carefully watching the beast, he held a finger over the open ring top. As Aldric shut the lid, he heard a mournful cry.

 “Noo!”

The unicorn disappeared.

Aldric held the ring to his ear once more. He couldn’t hear the pulse, but he sensed it. Did the animal shrink and live inside the ring? He’d just take a peek.

As he lifted the lid, she appeared, ran the same ten paces as before, spun and kicked out. The mare glanced around, and then shot Aldric an irritated look. She trotted in a circle around the fire and him, bucking and shaking her head and mane. Her muscles rippled with power. The thin spiraled horn, not quite an arm’s length long, looked threatening. Aldric didn’t take his eyes off of the unicorn as she circled, then stopped. He wouldn’t give her a moment to disappear on him again. Aldric took a step closer. The creature retreated a step. She kept a steady distance from him, as if an invisible tether bound her.

 “You don’t want to be here, but you’re not running away.”

The unicorn looked left and right as if contemplating that very thing.

 “Here I am, thinking out loud as if you understand me. I think I shall call you ‘Flame.’”

The unicorn blew out between her lips.  “Bbburr. I think I shall call you ‘Stupid’,” she replied.

 

 

       To read more of Aldric and Neighbor’s adventures in battles and magic, be sure to check out my BWL Inc. Publisher Author Page at https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l

And for tidbits of unicorn fun, see my S. L. Carlson blog and website at https://authorslcarlson.wordpress.com

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