Tuesday, September 29, 2009
I'll be signing copies of My Heart Will Find Yours, book one of The Turquoise Legacy, on October 3, 2009 from 1:00-3:00 PM at Borders Book Store in the Temple Mall. If you are in the area, please stop by.
Book two, Flames on the Sky, will be out October 23, 2009.
Thanks for reading!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Dreams often reflect deepest desires…even if they’re nightmares. While cruelly captured, a vampire creates a languid fantasy with the help of a powerful soul. Eternal devotion to two important people forces this creature to see himself with honest eyes. Imagination runs wild, yet Michael Malone still desires death. Why should he survive? Two very good reasons… One is revenge. The other is love.
The habit was hundreds of years old… An absentminded glance in an empty mirror as the vampire ran firm bristles back and forth over even, white teeth. But this time, he stared in disbelief. A cloudy image peered back—one that hadn’t been seen in centuries. High cheekbones, straight nose, square chin and strong brow were unmistakably his. Leaning into the mirror, Michael couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but it was his reflection, something lost the night he’d been turned. The one thing that sets me apart from humanity, he thought, one thing that should be lost forever. The image fascinated, but also frightened. One more secret I must keep from Alana—for now.
~ Retribution! The Champion Chronicles: Book One
October is right around the corner. Of course, with Halloween and the change of seasons, all things paranormal come to mind. We decorate our houses for those little munchkins who ring our doorbells because it’s time to celebrate all things creepy. Writing paranormal is like living Halloween all year round. We are the authors that crave the shape-shifter, psychic phenomena, and the sensual vampire. This genre is one where imagination runs wild before you arrive at the happily ever after ending. That seed of creation is what I’d like to talk about today.
The way a paranormal author chooses to use imagination can take a reader to some wonderful places. As an author, writing in this genre allows me to create a different world. All the elements of reality are visible through conflict, characterization, setting and situation. Whether the hero is a vampire or a shape-shifter, good stories have the same elements of reality. Intrigue, drama, out-of-the-norm experiences make our plots unique.
Have a great day!
M. Flagg – become a fan on Facebook.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
half of this story. I hope you enjoy the conclusion as much.
Now Grandma was a different story altogether. She was always even-tempered, quiet and loving. Except when you did something where you might get hurt. Then look out Nellie!
Grandma was old when she married, thirty-one, and by the time she had six children she was pretty wore out. So, when I knew her she was already having trouble getting around. We’d been told to stay out of the road, so one day when my brother thought she wasn’t looking, where do you think he went? You got it, into the road. Jimmy heard the screen door slap closed and by the time he looked up all he saw was Grandma’s big tennis shoe coming off the front porch. And she was loaded for bear, with the fly swatter. That thing really gets your attention when you’re wearing shorts and shirtless like he was. From that day on we knew our sweet Grandma meant what she said.
Grandma was a good Christian woman, her kids called her a saint because she “put up with Papa,” but she had two vices. Well, she thought of them as vices. She dipped snuff and read those romance magazines. They sat in a tall stack at the end of the sofa. Every afternoon, after her work was done and before it was time to cook supper, she’d sit and read awhile. It was her one escape from a hard life.
Grandma and Grandpa got too old to manage the farm and moved into a white frame house in town. Town being a small community of about 100 people several miles from the farm. The yard was grass and though there were no rose bushes, honeysuckle covered a trellis on the front porch.
As a teenager I loved to visit, and when Grandpa passed, I went as often as possible. She was lonely. Mama was grateful I liked to go because she couldn’t get out often. I’d take her car, and feeling free as a breeze, drive too fast on the two-lane highway.
We’d sit at her kitchen table and eat tomato and macaroni soup from pink Depression glass bowls — the ones so collectable today. Some days I’d stop at a burger joint just outside town and pick up a couple of hamburgers, her favorite meal. According to her, it was perfect — it had all the food groups, you could eat it with your hands and there were no dishes to wash. While we ate, she listened to my teenage woes, never condemning or scolding. And I learned things about her. I knew she loved roses but not that yellow was her favorite.
I cherish the richness of my childhood. Playing in that dirt with brothers, sisters and cousins we learned give and take, fairness and loyalty. Grandma’s simple life, her love and wisdom taught me compassion, unconditional love, and joy in what I have. Her life was an example of what it means to live the life of a Christian. She truly walked with Jesus.
Only remnants of Grandma’s shrubs and flowers remain at the farm, most died off from lack of water, a valuable commodity in the 1950’s due to the seven-year drought. No wonder she didn’t have grass. A new log home stands a short distance from where Grandma’s small house stood. Scraps of tin from the roof and chips of green asbestos siding are all that remain. Stand there for just a minute and memories will make you smile. Close your eyes, breathe in the scent of roses and listen to the sound of children’s laughter on the breeze as they ride stick horses and hunt doodlebugs in Grandma’s dirt yard.
Each time I look at a rose and its fragrance teases my nostrils, I think of Grandma Riley. Every memory I have is like the flower, beautiful, sweet and lingering. Though I loved Grandpa too, his memory congers up reminders of those goatheads, sharp and prickly.
Thanks for reading!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Grandma Riley’s front yard was odd. It was pretty, with rose bushes and shrubs, but it was all dirt. If a blade of grass poked its head through the soil, Grandma sealed its fate with a “whack” of her hoe. The same hoe she used to kill snakes. As a child, I couldn’t understand her dislike of grass. But her shrubs and flowers created ideal dirt paths for hide and seek, roads for our tricycles, and trails for our stick horses.
Grandpa ordered, “Unlatch that door.”
One day I asked Grandma why he was so grouchy. “Oh, honey, he doesn’t mean to be that way.” She always made excuses for him. But she did for all of us. I never heard her say an unkind word about anyone.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Thanks to all who left comments during August. New comments started coming in September 1st.
Happy reading and writing!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
A sea gull hanging from the ceiling reflected in the mirror.
I considerered trying my hand at towel art but decided to leave it to the experts. However, some on the cruise ship were novices. We were told if we got a snake, we had a beginner.
Thanks for reading. Happy Reading and writing!