NEW YA Fiction: SUMMONER RISING


I am so excited that SUMMONER RISING by Melanie McFarlane releases today and that I get to share the news!
If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book by Author Malanie McFarlane, be sure to check out all the details below.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for a DVD of THE CRAFT, US Only courtesy of Month9Books. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.

About The Book:

Title: SUMMONER RISING
Author: Melanie McFarlane
Pub. Date: March 28, 2017
Publisher: Month9Books
Format: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 300
Excerpt from, The Book of Summoning:
Law One: A summoner is responsible for all creatures it lets through from the netherworld.
Dacie Cantar wishes someone had explained the Laws of Summoning to her before she watched a shadowy creature crawl out of a painting at the local arcade. At least it explains the strange things she’s witnessed since moving in with her great-aunt, after her mother’s untimely death. But who wants to be followed by shadows the rest of their life? Add that to being stalked by a strange boy at school, who just might be her Tovaros (aka soulmate), it’s about all Dacie can handle in her new life.
As she nears her seventeenth birthday, will she be ready for her new responsibilities, or will the shadows that stalked her mother until her death, finally consume Dacie, too? And then there’s Law Two…
Excerpt:
When we pull up at the front of the house, everything is dark. Katya must be out. I stay quiet as I close the door and walk onto the front porch.
 
“Don’t be mad,” Tryan says grabbing my hand and pulling me back against his chest. He looks down into my face. “Demons aren’t trustworthy,” he says. “Just remember that.”
 
I relax my body against his and Tryan leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft and gentle, and I melt against him. The stress of this last month
melts away.
 
A shiver runs through my body and Tryan mistakes it for a chill. “Let’s go inside,” he says, pulling my hand toward the door.
 
As Tryan grabs the handle, the door creaks open. It’s not locked? He looks back at me with a frown creased across his brow. I push past him into the house.
 
“Katya?” I call out into the darkness. Nothing. Lights flicker into the kitchen through the open patio doors on the other side of the house.
 
“Come on,” Tryan says pulling me outside with a finger to his lips. “This way.”
 
We slowly creep around the side of the house, following the flickering lights to the back yard. Between the tall fence and the wooden siding of the
house, we’re sitting ducks. We slow down as we reach the back corner and Tryan grabs my hand.
 
“Let me go first,” he says. “Please. Trust me.”
 
I nod and hold back as Tryan passes in front of me. He peers around the corner, then holds up a hand for me to stop as he disappears into the backyard.
 
I shuffle around the corner, but Tryan is nowhere to be seen. Lights are hanging along the fence to the back of the property, flickering on and off.
 
“Tryan?” I whisper. No answer. I look back. Where is he?
 
 “Tryan?” I call out a little louder this time.
About Melanie: 

Melanie McFarlane is a passionate writer of other-wordly adventures, a little excitable, and a little quirky. Whether it’s uncovering the corruption of the future, or traveling to other worlds to save the universe, she jumps in with both hands on her keyboard. Though she can be found obsessing over zombies and orcs from time to time, Melanie has focused her powers on her YA debut
There Once Were Stars, and her YA urban fantasy Summoner Rising.

She lives with her husband and two daughters in the Land of Living Skies.Website | Twitter | Facebook | InstagramGoodreads


Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a DVD of THE CRAFT, US Only.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

Once Upon a Stage

Once upon a time, I picked up an easy two-hour subbing assignment (for which I would be paid as if I worked four hours). Enter stage left.

Drama as a class in high school is something I have plenty of experience with.

Drama as most high school students want to play it is something I’d rather avoid.

What’s a Mime?

During the last class of the day, a sub expects robust energy. Yes, while the teacher’s mind is fading, blinking out to the large drink and crispy apple waiting at home, the students are revving up to do whatever it is they’re going to do once the final bell rings.

A mime is a silent actor.

The TA did her best to introduce the giddy dramatists to turn off their voices and exaggerate the movements she directed.

I applaud this girl. She had stage presence and enough projection to silence any craziness. In fact, she was able to keep a higher percentage of the class on task than I did in my last middle school final-class-of-the-day.

One girl had silent music she jitterbugged to the entire time. A skinny boy wearing a plaid shirt mimed his force pulls and throws pretty impressively.

And I wonder how often we’re going through the motions of life. Listening to some offstage voice calling out moves.

Isn’t there more to life than this? Shouldn’t I be going somewhere?

But watching the ladder-climbing or stair-climbing mimes distracts from any deep reflection.
Like so many unnamed distractions from those things that would add meaning to our lives.

And I’m back in the auditorium supervising a group of students. The class period is winding down. I can tell by the deconstruction of the actors’ concentration on the invisible treasure chest.

Sounds like this once upon a stage ends in a happily ever after. Exit stage right.

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.
Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.

Writing on a Whim

More poetry from my vaults today. Hopefully, my writing whims aren’t spotlighting the whimsy within me.

(Yes, I do love my alliteration.)

Today’s offering is quite whimsical. I played with the words and penned them on the page.

Background: On this day, I had been brooding about the lack of new ideas and inspiration I’d been feeling. In the wake of National Novel Writing Month, I often find my creative soul a little parched. But I read a few turns of phrase in Proverbs 30 and an idea for a superhero-quest story spilled from nowhere.

Or somewhere. But us writerly types can never really pinpoint the exact source or motivation.

This untitled poem was only written a couple of months ago, December 30, 2016.

Ideas
spin through my pen
spurred by a word
inspired by a title
Wind in his Fists
Not the first time it called to me.

Notes
scribbled in dribbles
scattered by tatters
indulging a whim
Water in Garments
Superhero meet Elemental: A Trilogy

Heroes
stutter what they utter
strange what they arrange
involved with others
End of Earth
A quest against an unknown enemy.

Since this time, I’ve figured out who the villain is for these books. I know what he wants and why. Which means this could be a project that eventually comes front and center during my writing office hours.

All those pages of scribbles might find their way into a story after all.

Do you like to make notes in long hand? How do you get your best ideas? What process do you use to refine your ideas?

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.
Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.

Flashback or Dream Sequence

I find myself seated in the center of the second row in a nearly empty auditorium. Am I having a flashback to high school play auditions? Or is this a dream where I’m the director seeking a cast for my original short production?

Or maybe it’s neither.

It’s my other job…as a substitute teacher.

And it gives me plenty of flashbacks. Although the dreamlike-moments are far and few between.

An Easy Two Hours

The permanent teacher’s sub plans are the shortest (if not the sweetest) I’ve ever seen. “Hi there. Thanks for taking my classes. I have two amazing TAs who will run the class, so sit back, relax and make sure everyone keeps their phones away and no one dies.”

Seriously. Those are the exact words.

What would any writer do when told to relax?

Write, of course. So that’s what I’m doing. Because this blog needs content, and if I was home, I’d be working on the never-ending edits.

The TAs were responsible. They happily ran the classes (not like other TAs who balked when I asked them to step up to the plate for any reason).

Strangely Disconcerting

My brain rebels at the thought of sitting in a cushy chair while others lead in my place. Even if I’m clueless about what the class might expect.

After all, I’m getting paid for this. Shouldn’t I do something to earn the paycheck?

That’s one hundred percent my mother’s influence on my psyche. No one had a stronger work ethic than she did.

Industriousness isn’t reclining with an iPad on your lap, even if you’re spewing words that will appear on your website at a later date.

Burst of raucous laughter break my train of thought. They’re playing a game, acting off the cuff. Some have a bigger ham-bone than others. You can tell the ones who’ve spent more time onstage.

What about you? Do you find it disconcerting when something is much easier than you expected? Do you feel dishonest getting paid if you don’t really “work”?

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.
Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.

The Difference Between Heart and Soul

Writing is my calling. Sometimes the words pour directly from my heart onto the page.

Other times, it’s my soul that gets exposed.

Those creations are often the ones that remain secreted away in a spiral notebook or journal, too private for general consumption. A few of them make it into a document on the computer.

Most are locked away in the privacy of this writer’s treasure chest.

Some of them are more like blood stains than works of art. Although, some morbid artist might use blood stains to inspire a painting. Or prick a finger to add blood to the canvas she’s working on.

Here is an untitled poem from October 9, 2016. Hopefully it will give you an idea about how different forms of writing affect me.

A Novel
so many words
characters, arcs
a plot line, sub plot
all tied in a bow
with conflict and tension
more believable than life

A Story
burning from within
trails life on the page
fewer words with
a louder message
as much trouble
with less time

A Poem
bleeds emotions
metaphors, alliteration
pictures a moment
deep in heart or soul
whispers barren truth
in short bursts of verse

Yes, the process I use for each of these is as different as the outcome. The above poem is a first and final draft. Such a thing will never happen with a short story. A novel involves hours of preparation before the first words ever make it to the page.

Is it the length that causes the difference? The content? The method of delivery?

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.
Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.

I must have been the worst mother ever

I love cats. They fill crevices in my heart with warmth. But they’re animals. I’m not really their mother.

So why do I worry about them more than I remember worrying about my kids?

Case In Point

We planned our week away several months in advance. And I contracted someone to stay at the house with my three little fur babies.

When the sitter cancelled a month before our trip, my first response was, “I’m not going to be able to go on this trip.”

My husband looked at me like I’d grown an arm out of the middle of my forehead. “We’ll get someone else.”

But there’s no one.

Because I really want this person to adore cats as much as I do. And I want to be comfortable imagining them alone in my house.

Am I expecting too much?

Needless to say, I don’t recall ever thinking I would cancel a vacation to stay home with my kids. Maybe if they had been sick.
But one time, my youngest had a bad fall and got stitches two days before I was supposed to leave to join my husband in Washington, DC.

My mother was keeping our sons. She insisted that I go on the trip.

I’d like to say she really had to twist my arm. But she didn’t. I wanted to be convinced it was fine for me to leave my small children.

But these cats?

Plan B

“They do so much better when someone stays with them.”

It’s true.

I love cats for their independence. And my cats are as snooty as any Egyptian god or goddess.
But when we left them for a week and had my father-in-law check in on them daily, they pooped on the chair, destroyed a few items and sprayed my husband’s shoes.

It made coming home an instant relaxation reversal.

Another time, we had some neighbor kids come over and sit with them for a couple hours every day.

This time it was the bed that got used as a litter box. And the television and lights were left on. For how long we’ll never know.

So my husband’s plan to have the neighbor stop in daily to feed, water and clean their box wasn’t looking very pleasant.

Thankfully, my adult sons live nearby. Although they’d rather stay at their own place, they know and love the cats. It’s not too unreasonable for my youngest to commute from my house rather than his. He can even bring his cat (she loves playing with my cats).

As relief floods my chest when this plan comes together, I wonder, “What sort of person am I?”

Who worries more about leaving their cats alone than leaving their kids?

Although my kids were always with grandparents or other responsible adults.

Shouldn’t I want the same for my fur babies?

Maybe the relief I feel has more to do with coming home to no unwelcome presents.

That’s what I tell myself.

That and “You’re the best cat mother ever!”

What do you worry about when you go on vacation?

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.
Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.

Life, Time and other Non-renewable Resources

Sometimes I still write in a journal. And every now and then that entry takes shape as a poem.

Here is one such poem written on July 11, 2014.

Life, Time & other Non-Renewable Resources

No ticking clocks
change the passage of time
Not one whit
Limited minutes
roll into hours
Carefully spend them
they can’t be regained.
Soon hours are days
Days, months
until years of time
sucked down the drain of
procrastination,
Broken promises,
reveal a life
past its prime
still waiting for a dream
Regretting the conservation of time
Neglected
In this non-renewable
resource know as
Life

What are some other non-renewable resources you wish you had conserved more wisely?

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.
Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.

An Atypical Vacation

I can’t really do a stay vacation. So instead, we take a short road trip to our “home resort” near Bend, Oregon.
Stay vacations are for people who need to get some projects done at home. But since my office is at home, I have a heard time avoiding the tasks awaiting me. As long as I’m at home.
So, I look forward to even a slight change of location.
Even if I plan to do some work on vacation.

The Resort

Eagle Crest lies on a plateau in Central Oregon halfway between the yuppy city of Bend, the growing town of Redmond and the tourist site of Sisters.
Two decades ago, we visited there on a “free” pass from my parents. The caveat…we had to listen to a sixty-minute presentation of the vacation timeshare plan.
Since then, the resort was purchased by Trendwest, Worldmark and then Wyndham (or was the Worldmark/Wyndham more of a merger?) and our options have expanded twenty-fold.
Two short golf courses, paved walking trails, and a number of private subdivisions comprise the resort grounds. If the weather isn’t right for golf, there’s an indoor pool and two different recreation centers.
For a person with an unlimited budget, there’s a spa and salon.

The Work

I finished my first editing pass of ELEPHANT IN THE TEAROOM before we left for the vacation. That felt good.
No, that novel still isn’t ready for submission. It will get two more editing passes before I let a professional read it.
I carried the rough draft of my romance novella, the narrative portions of my grief memoir outline and an idea notebook over the mountains.

All of it hanging out on my computer hard drive or, more likely, in the virtual storage of One Drive.
My oldest son and his wife are coming down for the weekend. There is an anniversary event that we’re attending on Saturday, so I know I’ll be playing those days.
If I get two or three hours of quality work in on the five weekdays, I’ll be pretty pleased with myself.
Lord knows the change of scenery is sure to inspire my creativity. I know Ms. Muse loves sunshine, fresh air, outdoors and even a day of shopping.

The Plan

If you’ve followed me for long, you know I’m more of a “I have a vague idea what I want to do” vacation planner.
My husband suggested the High Desert Museum. Several friends asked if we were going to ski Mt. Bachelor because they’ve opened a few new runs there. Bend has an outlet mall, so my inner-shopaholic threw that hat in the ring.
We drive down Friday night after work, stopping at the Dairy Queen in Sandy for dinner. Our house guests plan to arrive an hour or so later. We talk and play some games.
On Saturday, we head to the anniversary celebration. The kids head in the same direction because her grandfather passed away, so there’s a ton of family around and she has an obituary to write. (I know, it doesn’t sound fun to me either.) We plan to rendezvous back at the condo for a burger dinner and more games.
The kids leave on Monday, but we fill our weekend with plenty of games. They even let me win. That’s a nice change of pace from the usual “Whoever gets Mom on their team will lose.”
The weekdays will be more relaxed. Since Monday is a holiday, I’m in favor of staying at the resort to avoid the craziness.
Then bring on the museum and shopping for the rest of the week.

Except, no. We believed them about a 30-minute owner update. Which we had to drive to Inn of the Seventh Mountain to attend.

Three hours later…

When will we ever learn?

We did manage to do a little shopping. But the museum was out. And my husband didn’t even bring his ski clothes (although we talked about packing them.)

I enjoyed a long overdue pedicure while he checked out a tool store.

The weather

I needed something other than gray skies.

The snow was beautiful. It stifled some of our outdoor activities, but most of the time, it melted by noon. And the sun peeked through the clouds.

Sometimes it was sunny, so  we’d head out for a walk. And then out of nowhere the wind picked up and rain, sleet or snow added a little adventure to an afternoon power walk.

As they say on the A-Team, “I love it when a plan comes together.”


Are you a fan of a stay-cation? What do you need before you consider time away from home a vacation?

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.
Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.

I Write Poems Too

I’ve been writing since I was nine years old. Much of what I wrote during my teenage years took the form of journal entries or poetry. I still enjoy writing poetry.

This month, I’m going to share samples of poems I’ve written on Thursdays.

I know it doesn’t have the “holding out for a hero” punch that my What Would Wonder Woman Do Thursdays, but I’m just a writer. Not a superhero.

Let’s begin with my first published work. Yes, it was a poem.

Why I Write

Words
A mighty deluge swelling
Unwritten phrases compelling
Tales that beg telling
Exuberant expressions propelling
A pencil to engage in spelling
Verbiage continually welling
Imagination never dispelling
Until spilled on the page

Stories
Expand in the soul
Burning a yearning hole
Amplified brilliance, a coal
Igniting, indicting, on a roll
Fiery phrases like a mole
Burrowing to a creative goal
Loquacity the latest foal
Until birthed onto the page

Prose
Awakens from its dreaming
Letters like gemstones beaming
Profuse diamonds gleaming
Brush strokes meanwhile seeming
Composed with silent screaming
Alive, aloud, tempestuous, teeming
Consonants and vowels streaming
Until written onto the page

Published in Reflection Literary Journal: Tenth Anniversary Edition in May 2013

In case you wonder how it feels when words burn a hole in your soul until you bring them into the world. Writers, how would you describe your creative fuel?

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.

Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.

Monday Morning Post-Vacation Blahs

Yes, I have something worse than the Monday Morning Blues. A disease more distressing than Post-Vacation Lethargy. I have the “Blahs.”

Do you know what I mean?

The weather outside is gray and drizzly. Blah.

Piles of cat-scratchings mock me, clinging to my slippers when I walk anywhere near the dining room. Who cares?

Dishes are piled in the sink and my bullet journal schedule for the week is practically blank. Whatever.

Last night, I tried to convince my husband to call in sick so we could do something fun today. He laughed. (Although he agreed that he didn’t want to go to work today either.)

Working at home is a double-edged sword when I have the blahs. I mean, if I really don’t feel like it, I don’t have to head to the office. No one is staring at the empty desk wondering when I’ll show up.

But my mother taught me better than that.

It’s called self-discipline. And if it isn’t her voice chiding me about the filthy bathrooms and the piles on my desktop, it’s a drill sergeant blasting me with condemnation.

So even with the Monday Morning Post-Vacation Blahs, I’d better get myself in gear and go to work.

At least I can wear my new sweats. Ah, talk about comfy.

I can take breaks to crochet another granny square. Or play Words with Friends.

After all, I’ve only got to write the blog posts for the next two weeks. And I’ve come up with a fantastic idea for half of them.

Vacation is needful. It’s especially important for me to get away from home so I can inhale fresh adventures and map new settings. These are gold mines for future fiction tales.

Hemingway got a few things right. And this was one of them.

If I didn’t work as a substitute teacher, I could go days without ever leaving my house. I don’t count walking to the mailbox or picking up groceries as “living.” Sorry.

Many writers face the same sort of compulsion. To lock ourselves away with whatever we’re currently working on. Why bother even showering? No one’s going to see us.

And then the UPS guy rings the doorbell and waits for a signature.

It’s always best to plan for package delivery if nothing else.

I wonder what he thinks of the big smear of something above my left knee. He glances toward my hair and suddenly a platoon of itches marches through my unwashed hair.

Don’t scratch. Don’t scratch. Don’t scratch.

And then I return to my office and plunge back into my writing.

Did the doorbell ring? What time is it?

Apparently, I should be figuring out what to cook my husband for dinner. When he travels, I don’t have to deal with this problem.

As you can see, this post might have arrived a few hours later than usual. But it’s here.

The blahs didn’t win.

What constitutes the blahs to you?

If this post appealed to you, you might like Hero Delivery. It’s a bulletin with deals and specials from Sharon Hughson. It can be on the way to your inbox in a few clicks.
Check out Finding Focus and my other books. You’re sure to find something worth reading.
Already read one or more? Please leave an honest review on your favorite site. Those reviews are the same as the author discovering a gold nugget in the bottom of her washing machine.