The Art of Taking a Break: Rolling on a Riverboat

In the USA the Thanksgiving holiday was celebrated this week.  I’m grateful for those of you who have continued to visit and offer encouragement even though I’ve stopped giving away episodes of a novel or serial.  I’m thankful for you.Crystal w-Story Jar 06-29-14

My National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) story, The Delta Pearl, is set on a very special riverboat.  It continues to roll on the river, often propelled by “three things” I’ve been given by you, or taken from my jar of random things.  It’s keeping the big wheel turning.

Ike and Tina Turner, Proud Mary 1971

Thanks to Sally G. Cronin for reminding me of that version of the song. (I hope it’s still available when this post publishes. The first recording I used was taken down.)  

This week some of the “things” I used were from two marvelous writers who have been wonderful sources of support for me.  I said I had been editing this post. I decided not to show you the snippet I first had in mind.  However I still want to give a mention to the two writers who left “things” that I used this week. 

Teresa (Tess) Karlinski  posts marvelous travelogues, allowing us to share in her adventures.  Her brilliant stories are also featured in anthologies.  Tess left Montreal, Harpsichord, and Soup for her three things. I’m sure you will enjoy her vivid stories and travels.

Author Mary J. McCoy-Dressel has been with this blog since its very beginning.  She happens to have two new releases. Give yourself a romantic treat with Christmas at Love House and Whispers of Forever.  Mary’s things were Victorian, Engineering Drawing, and Peculiar.

My Writing Process1800s-riverboat

I just revised this post (thank goodness, else I wouldn’t have known about the first video problem).  I can’t decide whether to share with you a snippet from the prologue or the beginning of chapter-1…

You see, I wanted the opening to connect strongly with the prologue, even though time had passed and the narrator’s life had changed greatly.  So I think I’ll show you both so you can see how I’ve tied it together.  (In other words, I couldn’t decide, so I’ll show you both.)

Here’s a bit of The Delta Pearl:

Prologue

The first time I saw the Delta Pearl I was eight years old.  My grandpa had died three days before.  He was sick for a long time before that.  I asked Moma if Grandpa had seen the riverboat.  I didn’t see what was wrong with the question, but apparently something was.  It made her angry and she never answered me.

Later, relatives descended upon our house bearing all manner of food.  There was some hugging and handshaking, but eyes were mostly dry of tears.  They didn’t cry much, my family.

Moma and Nana used every flat surface available as they tried to sort all the food into some kind of edible order.  As they got creative about how to make room for every cousin’s best cooking, I made for the back door.wooden-porch-close-up

Pushing the door open, I stepped onto the little porch.  When the screen door banged behind me I cringed.  Moma always yelled at me about that.  It seemed impossible to close it without the bang.  However, when she called out she didn’t mention the door.

“Em!  Emerald Perlezenn!  You stay away from that river,” she hollered.

So of course I went to the river.  The gentle sounds of the water always helped me come to terms with things I didn’t understand.  The river comforted me.  At that moment, I really needed the river.  Besides, I thought, I might finally see the riverboat.

So I trotted down narrow paths Nana called pig trails.  Rounding curves, dodging brambles and tree roots, I eventually got to the riverbank.

The riverboat, the Delta Pearl, was a legend along that part of the river.  Few people had seen her.  As for the ones who claimed they had seen the riverboat, everybody seemed pretty sure they were lying.

Some said the riverboat was haunted.  Others claimed it was the river’s version of the Lost Dutchman, cruising the river for eternity.  Most had it that if you saw the Delta Pearl you were marked for death.

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“Of course the Delta Pearl is not real, Em.  It’s just a story,” Moma always said.  “There are too many places around here where a boat like that can’t go.  It couldn’t get through.  Now I’ve heard enough of that silliness, and I’d better not hear another word from you about it.”

I walked along the very edge of the bank.  Now and then my foot slipped, because I was so close to the edge.  I backed away to clean the mud from my shoe.

The fluttering sound of a bird taking flight came to my ears.  An odd clicking sound caused me to look up into the trees.  Pine needles showered down and I covered my eyes.  I spotted something brass colored as it streaked across the blue sky.

That seemed like a strange color for a bird.  It looked almost like metal, but that was too impossible, even for my active imagination.  My eyes followed the bird as it flew along the river.

As I sat there I listened to the music of the water as it lapped against the shore.  It gave me a dreamy feeling.  I gazed vaguely down the path the river had carved eons before.  Sunlight glittered the surface of the water.  I imagined the tiny reflections were diamonds and tried to count them.

Squinting at the brilliance, I thought of what it would be like to be a grand lady with strands of diamonds at my throat and in my hair.  I thought of her suitors asking for a dance.  So I stood and turned and turned, dreaming of the dance, while I spun around and around.

I staggered to a stop, enjoying the sensation of the dizzy world seeming to sway around me.  Stumbling, I held my arms out for balance as I faced the river.

That’s when I saw the Delta Pearl.

***

Chapter 1:  Dance

jenna-coleman-and-rufus-sewell-as-queen-victoria-and-lord-melbourne

Jenna Coleman and Rufus Sewell

A silver thread glittered as the morning sun streamed onto the deck.  At the end of the filament was a purple clockwork spider.  It skittered across the wooden floor before vanishing behind a crate.

In the arms of a truly expert dancer, I twirled and spun until the world whirled dizzily with me.  My partner’s impeccable sense of balance never faltered.  We danced high above the river, on the hurricane deck.  Dozens of fluffy white clouds blurred into one as he twirled me rapidly around and around.

Like diamonds, I thought as sunlight reflected brightly on the strands of triangular waxed flags strung above the deck.  The sound they made as they fluttered in the breeze reminded me of startled birds taking flight.  It took my mind to the day, years before, when I first saw the Delta Pearl.

I missed a step.  The Dealer stopped our dance.  He looked at me with what passed for concern on his less than mobile features.  He blinked before speaking in his quasi French accent.

“Émeraude, are you well?  Do you tire?  Perhaps the sun is too much?” the Dealer asked.

One would never realize it just by looking at him, but the Dealer was compassionate and nurturing.  Sometimes I felt he was too consoling, though that quality had benefits in his occupation.  I had to admit that I seemed to receive more of his nurturing behavior than did the rest of the crew.louis-jourdan-as-the-dealer

Of course he had a name besides the Dealer.  He called himself Jaspe.  To my ears he pronounced his name ZASH-pah.  However, more often than not he was simply referred to as the Dealer.

I smiled and shook my head before speaking.  “I was merely distracted, Jaspe.  You are a much better dancer than I.”

“Ah, but cher, I am named for a rock — jasper,” he reminded me, using the English pronunciation to refer to the semiprecious gem.  “I claim no more talent than the rock whose name I bear,” he replied, self-deprecating as always.  “Besides, I have had so very long to perfect the steps.  You are much improved,” he complimented me with a graceful, sweeping bow.

The Dealer gazed at the horizon.  He raised a white gloved hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight.  I knew he saw much more than I ever could.  After a moment he spoke.  “We will be in port soon.  Best we get to work, eh?”

I couldn’t help watching his graceful movements.  I wanted to ask just how long he had been perfecting his dancing, how old he was.  His name, Jaspe was French for jasper, and his accent clearly bespoke New Orleans.  Yet, I knew he discussed neither his age nor his origins.  I was sure the Captain knew from where Jaspe hailed, but our skipper was not inclined to gossip.

However, the unspeakable, nagging question to which I most wanted an answer about the Dealer was not the number of his years.  Rather I wanted to know whether or not he was in fact a man at all.

***

The Delta Pearl is sedately rolling on the river.  It might never be a speedboat, but at least the big wheel is turning.  Mega hugs!

Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

 

 

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Atonement, Tennessee by Teagan Geneviene #bookreviews #TuesdayBookBlog @TeaganGeneviene

Here in the USA it will soon be Thanksgiving Day. I can tell you that I’m very thankful for Teri Polen and the review she did of my debut novel, Atonement, Tennessee.

Teri enjoyed my Lilith character.  If you’re a fan of Lilith the calico, here’s an interview with her:  https://teagansbooks.com/2014/02/26/atonement-character-interviews-lilith/
Thank you, Teri.
Mega hugs everyone!

Books and Such

Esmeralda Lawton is sick of the big city. “Ralda” was betrayed until trust became a theoretical concept. So it’s a 25213788dream come true when she buys an old estate, complete with historic cemetery. Okay, she isn’t excited about the cemetery, but she’s strangely drawn to the estate. Atonement, Tennessee, a quaint town, seems like the perfect place for her. However, her new life isn’t quiet.

The house is full of antiques. Some have extraordinary properties — a brass bed causes strange dreams, and a mirror shows the truth of who you are.

A mysterious neighbor secretly watches over the graveyard. There’s more to him than meets the eye, but what? Then there’s Gwydion, owner of Fae’s Flowers. She stubbornly resists her feelings for him.

Ralda suspects that people are drawn to Atonement to, well — atone. She wonders what sins led her there. However, her ancestress made the mistakes.

Atonement…

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The Art of Taking a Break: Slow Ride

steamboat-mississippi

Welcome everyone!  To most sane people it would seem like the intense challenge of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) would be the last thing anybody who desperately needs to decompress should add to their endless pile of stress.  However, it seems to be the monumental distraction that I needed.

For anyone who is participating in NaNoWriMo along with me, here’s a song to keep us chugging along.

I’m trying hard not to let my woefully inadequate word count bother me.  The Delta Pearl is an old-time paddle-wheel riverboat.  It’s only fitting that the creation of the novel should be a slow ride.

Since I had not planned to participate in NaNoWriMo this year, I had no story in mind.  So I asked everyone to send me three random things, to move the riverboat along.  The response was great, and so were your “things.”  I’ve been using them.  This week things from author and translator Olga Núñez Miret added to the story. (Olga’s Amazon author page here.)  She sent “Ace of Hearts, Small Pistol, Camera” which made me think of the inventor character I had recently created…  My narrator already found him appealing, but Ace of Hearts?  Look out Émeraude! audio-collection-olga

Olga has a sensational collection of her own books, so be sure to click over and take a look.  She is also promoting a multi-author event (details here) for audio books!  Specials run from November 20 — 22, 2016.

Now back to my slow ride on what is supposed to be a NaNoWriMo whirlwind…
Mega hugs!

delta-pearl-cover-1

 

Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

 

The Smorgasboard Features Adelle’s Teapot, an Atonement, TN Story

Hello everyone. Thank you very much for visiting.  I know you are not used to seeing daily posts from me. However, I wanted to show my gratitude to the people who have been so generous in supporting me this week.  Yesterday, it was Chris, the Story Reading Ape.  Today it is Sally.  I promise to go back to my usual schedule at midnight Saturday (Eastern).

Sally Cronin Photo

Sally G. Cronin

When the multi-talented Sally G. Cronin asked for holiday short stories to post at her wonderful blog, Smorgasboard, Variety Is the Spice of LifeI asked her if she’d use a story that had already been posted. She graciously agreed to use one of the stories from my “Atonement universe” called Adelle’s Teapot.  It’s not really a holiday story, but the setting is at the right time of year.  

As most of you know, for the longest I’ve been working on book-2 in the “Atonement” series that began with “Atonement, Tennessee.”  The title is the name of my fictional town where supernaturals secretly live among the residents of this seemingly quaint town.  (Book-2 will be called Atonement in Bloom.)

The characters in this story only play a small part in the novels, but I think it’s fun to get to know them as well.  I hope you enjoy this tidbit.  If you do, please click over to Sally’s blog to comment. (I’ve disabled comments here.)

Adelle’s Teapot — Features from Atonement TN

1924 Good housekeeping 2 girls tea

The inventory notes Annie recorded were part of an ancient list, passed down through the Metatron clan.  For the most part, the older the item, the more power it held.  The kind of power varied widely.

The Mirror of Truth and Justice Most Poetic could show one’s true self.  The mirror could be playful, cryptic, devilishly mischievous, or brutally honest.  It almost seemed to have a mind of its own.  In age and in power, that mirror ranked about mid-way on the inventory list.  Annie shuddered to think of the havoc she had known the mirror to wreak.

She kept many of the items hidden in plain sight in her antique shop.  It had been easy enough to steer Ralda Lawton away from a special quilt.  Ralda, the new owner of the Sunhold estate, did not need that star design quilt, but someone else would.  However, the brass Bed of Dreams was meant for her.  The bed wasn’t strong in power, but it was effective.

ad 5 Oclock TeaAnnie looked down at the ancient list.  Something glowed through several layers of paper.  She knew the glow came from the script identifying a very old item.  The glowing writing meant an item awakened.  Her hands shook as she leafed through the pages to the very beginning of the catalogued inventory.

The teapot.  Annie took a shuddering breath.  It was simple and unassuming looking, but the teapot was the oldest item listed in Annie’s inventory notes.  It was also arguably the most powerful.  Because of its unique properties the teapot had always been kept separate from the other items.  Adelle, Annie’s sister was the teapot’s custodian.  It was safely tucked away in the attic of the Victorian house that was Adelle’s tearoom and home.

A brew had not been made from that teapot in living memory.  But what else could awaken the pot but the alchemy of water, heat, and the right combination of herbs, flowers, and leaves?

“No Adelle,” Annie muttered as she put away the ancient ledger.1937 Look Shirley Temple Santa tea

Annie ran out of her shop, the door banging shut behind her.  Her platinum hair shone in the moonlight.  She skidded around the corner and ran down the town square.  Annie stumbled to a stop.  She gazed at the night sky in open mouthed astonishment.

Above Adelle’s tearoom the sky shimmered in a golden aura.  When Annie looked farther up into the sky, she saw an even more astonishing sight.  The entire town of Atonement rested unaware beneath five columns of light pillars.  The columns of light pulsed through the clouds.

“Adelle,” Annie gasped.  “What have you done?”

With a hand to her chest, Annie continued toward her sister’s home.  She fell going up the front porch stairs.  As she righted herself, Annie saw that the front door stood open.  Then she realized that every door and window in the Victorian house was wide open.

“My God, Annie!  Are you all right?” Adelle exclaimed as she helped her sister to her feet and guided her inside.

Annie allowed her sister to guide her, gasping for breath and shaking with fright, to the kitchen table.  There Adelle poured a cup of tea.  Annie turned horrified eyes from the teacup to her sister.

1940s Home Notes Girl tea party“Oh don’t be silly,” Adelle chastised.  “It’s not from that teapot.”

Annie took a sip of the tea her sister pressed upon her.  She took a bite of cake or scone or some baked treat that would ordinarily have been delicious.  However it might as well have been cardboard in her mouth.  Without even realizing what she was doing Annie crumbled the rest between her fingers never looking at it.  She stared blindly out the kitchen window into the darkness, too stunned to process the thousand thoughts in her mind.

“Why in heaven’s name would you let the teapot awaken?” Annie finally asked.

“It couldn’t be helped.  I needed to talk to our grandfather,” Adelle replied.

“That wouldn’t be difficult for you,” Annie said.  “Why would you use the teapot for that?”

Her sister’s mouth curved to that self-satisfied, cat-with-a-bowl-of-cream smile that Annie knew all too well.

“Which grandfather,” Annie asked, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the answer she already knew was coming.

Adelle pursed her lips then made a reluctant, sardonic grimace.  “The one quite a few times removed.  Maybe a few hundred times.”1905 Sunday Mag Tea Woman steam kiss

Annie groaned and dropped her head to the kitchen table, her pale hair falling to cover her face.  Forehead against the polished wood, she rocked her head side to side.  Finally she looked up at her raven haired sister.

“Tell me this is not happening,” Annie pleaded hoarsely.

“It really couldn’t be helped, Annie.  I had to consult Enoch,” Adelle said apologetically.

“What could possibly be that important?” Annie demanded.

The sardonic twist left Adelle’s mouth.  She looked into her sister’s eyes, coldly serious.

“Cailleach Bheur,” Adelle said.  “Beira the Crone.”

***

As you can see, my odd little imaginary town has its quirks.  (And when I finally finish Atonement in Bloom, you will meet Beira the Crone.)  I hope you enjoyed this visit to Atonement, Tennessee.  Be sure to visit Sally too.  I’m grateful for her ever generous support.

Mega Hugs,

Teagan

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Thriving Thursdays: Live on the Front Row – Guest Post…

Thanks to Chris, the Story Reading Ape for hosting me at his tree-house on the third Thursday of each month.
When I did motivational messages as part of my “real” job, people always asked how I could possibly write something uplifting, week after week. I answered with the truth. I need encouragement at least as much as anyone else. So in writing the messages, I was also motivating myself.
That continued to be true after the messages were no longer a part of my job and I started writing them at LinkedIn (for 2 years). Now I’m honored that you are sharing them here at the tree-house. Thank you again, Chris. Wishing everyone a thriving Thursday. Mega hugs!
(To leave a comment, click over to the Story Reading Ape’s site.)
https://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/2016/11/17/reserved-for-teagan-2/

Thriving Thursdays

Live on the Front Row

Roller Coaster Ladies Front Row

“You can choose to live on the front row…  or the third row.”

I love this old photo and the vivid progression it shows. It really does speak a thousand words. The pair of women on the third row look like sisters. I can imagine they were arguing before they got on the roller coaster.  Move up to the second row and those ladies seem to be having a pretty darned good time.  But those two on the front row?  Have you ever seen such genuine fun painted on a couple of faces?

When you woke up this morning and dragged yourself out of bed, you bought the ticket (so to speak).  There will be ups and downs and hairpin turns.

Now the choice is up to you. Will you live on the front row — or on the third row? 

Wishing you a thriving Thursday,

Teagan

You can read my serial stories and learn about my novels at my blog, Teagan’s Books.  Click on over and say hello.

 

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Roller Coaster Ladies Front Row

“You can choose to live on the front row…  or the third row.”

I love this old photo and the vivid progression it shows. It really does speak a thousand words. The pair of women on the third row look like sisters. I can imagine they were arguing before they got on the roller coaster.  Move up to the second row and those ladies seem to be having a pretty darned good time.  But those two on the front row?  Have you ever seen such genuine fun painted on a couple of faces?

When you woke up this morning and dragged yourself out of bed, you bought the ticket (so to speak).  There will be ups and downs and hairpin turns.

Now the choice is up to you. Will you live on the front row — or on the third row? 

Wishing you a thriving Thursday,

You can read my serial stories…

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The Art of Taking a Break: Twilight Zone

Help! I’ve slipped into the Twilight Zone! 

I don’t talk work, religion, or politics here. So even though I’ve brought it up, let’s not comment about it. I’m just giving you my state of mind.  But I don’t think I have to talk about it for you to understand why I have a surreal feeling that I can’t shake off… one that is overwhelming each time I’ve looked at the television or read the news since the morning of November 9th.

Where do we go, now that we’ve gone too far?

My word count is still pathetic, but the only place I could go was farther into my NaNoWriMo novel, The Delta Pearl.delta-pearl-cover-1

It occurred to me that a riverboat needed passengers.  So I now have crew and passengers — along with a couple of other things that live on the boat.  That part was fun.  My character matrix has grown and gotten quite complex with all sorts of tabs for different things I’m prepared to track or use for my own reference.  Do you see that across the bottom of the picture? Each of those is a separate “worksheet” with all sorts of information. 

character-matrix-tabs

I’m falling down a spiral, destination unknown

However, this story is still full-on pantser.  I have no idea where I’m going.  Yet the voyage is becoming more interesting.  The other night I even dreamed I was aboard The Delta Pearl.  I don’t remember the dream, except that the water was rough, just like the scene I wrote that evening.  It may have had something to do with a bad food allergy reaction that had my stomach roiling right along with the fictional river… But when I awoke, I was laying across the bed, rather than vertically! That was strange. I’ve never done that before…  But then we are living in the Twilight Zone after all.

My beacon’s been moved under moon and stars

Sometimes it’s easier to see where a story should go, if you can put actual faces on the characters. I haven’t actively tried to do that with “Pearl” yet.  Even so, a couple have come to me.  Suddenly I saw one of the Doctor Who companions, Jenna Coleman as Émeraude.jenna-coleman_victoria-reflection

A taller version of Louis Jourdan as he was in Gigi could be The Dealer, Jaspe (ZASH-pah). That came to me… though I’m not sure.  Maybe.

louis-jourdan-as-the-dealer

So I’ve gotten that far with the story.  Me, here in the Twilight Zone, imagining different worlds, and pantsering a novel.  Trying not to worry about where we’ll all go now that we’ve gone too far.

Where am I to go, now that I’ve gone too far

“No Time Like the Past” Twilight Zone 1963

Soon you’ll come to know, when the WriMo hits the bone

Okay… so I couldn’t pull the ending together for this post… But maybe all the endings are catawampus here… in the Twilight Zone.

 

Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

The Art of Taking a Break: NaNoWriMo Mania

Hello, everyone.  I’m here with a quick update to thank you all for your support.  Special thanks for leaving  three things to keep me writing my new, and totally “pantser” novel, The Delta Pearl.steamboat-mississippi

My word count is not up to snuff, but this year that is not the point.  National Novel Writing Month is proving to be the “monumental distraction” that I wanted.  However, with 4,000 words into the “story” I still have no idea what the story is!  Now, that’s definitely flying (writing) by the seat of your pants!

For you armchair psychologists, and real psychiatrists…

I knew what name I wanted to give my heroine, yet I struggled with it.  I never noticed it before, but I seem to have a subconscious pattern with naming my heroines.  First was Emlyn in (unpublished) The Dead of Winter.  Then came Esmeralda of Atonement, Tennessee.  (I did not know until last week that Esmeralda means emerald…)

Announcement — a Name

Using gemstone names as a thread throughout the story was one of the few elements I had actually planned.  However, I didn’t know which jewel I should associate with my protagonist (regardless of what I wanted).  Then a character I called The Dealer came to my imagination.  He has a pseudo French accent and is presumably from New Orleans. I imagined his voice as he named my heroine… Émeraude.  Yes, that means emerald (as does Esmeralda), and some people call her Em (remind you of Emlyn?)… Then — it registered that my late sister’s birthstone was the emerald.  So read into all that whatever you want… NaNoWriMo does not allow for luxuries like agonizing over character names.  I gave up trying to figure it (or myself) out and went ahead with the name I wanted, Émeraude.

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Wikimedia Commons, Chris Light

Shout-outs!

Thank you for the evocative “things” you readers left last weekend. I’ve already used many of them.  I’m grateful for them, so I want to make some shout-outs today.

Lord David Prosser supplied Cockaleekie Soup, Peppermint, String Vest (I had to use undershirt instead).  In the old serials I looked forward to “things” from David because they always gave me fun research, and he came through with more fun.  The cock-a-leekie soup created a supporting character — the head chef of the Delta Pearl, named Agate but often called Cook.

Nandini, my new NaNoWriMo writing buddy, sent White Umbrella, Bridge, Tea.  Her umbrella caused me to think of a quirk for that important character called the Dealer. I think his name will be Jaspe, though I’m not certain. (French for Jasper… do you see the gemstone theme for names forming?)  Anyway he often expresses concern for my heroine’s complexion in the sun.

Cheryl, my purple flipflop loving blogger-chef left several things that included Cameo and White Picket Fence.  That cameo might be a recurring “artifact” in the story.  I gave it to my heroine and to a mysterious woman in an old portrait.

I hope you’ll visit these lovely blogs.  Now I’m off to write more for WriMo.  

Mega hugs!

Teagan

 

Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.