Sunday, October 2, 2011

The 5 Stages of Fear, Writing and Where It All Comes From

The sky is going to fall. The sky is falling. The sky is not falling. The sky did not fall. I love the sky. – Patti Friday

There are so many doubting moments while a writer writes and it makes the hours of word choices and dream ‘state’ all worth it when you receive a review like this.  I am humbled and honored. Thank You. 
Here is the surprise I got today! (The lovely review.)
I read this book slowly and methodically, taking time to savor it’s wonderful imagery and lush character development. My impressions are really hard to put into words, but I will try my best: This is one of the great books of our times! It is filled with life lessons and truths that some might consider difficult to face head on. Stock up on plenty of tissue and tall glasses of ice water, because the pace of this book is at the same time measured and untamed. One of my favorite quotes from the book was: “Time is a thief that steals opportunities.” Don’t miss the opportunity to read this wonderful, knowing book. You’ll thank yourself and Patti over and over…(Your book is sublime and I will recommend it to every person with a beating heart.)
If you would like to read my book on eReader you may buy it from Amazon here.
A trade paperback copy may be purchased here.

Exclusive Excerpt of my novel 'Babies':

It was like a dream come true. The sounds of Queen Street, visible to the eye just north of the four-plex, were a stone’s throw away from my favorite place on earth.
         Parking being a nightmare, which to me added character to the location, I squeezed my car into a tight spot around the corner on a quaint tree lined court. As I walked around my car to the sidewalk, the spray of a tired sprinkler teased my calf and soaked my foot.
            The slight breeze was warm and the sunlight peeked through the maples, which stood like uniformed guards on Parliament Hill.  I felt like I had come home. All of these years fantasizing about living in The Beaches had finally come true. I was full of anticipation. This moment had played over and over in my mind since the first time I came to these magical streets.  I longed to be part of this world.  It was the most comfortable place I’d ever known. It felt right. It was meant to be.
            In the muggy heat I strolled toward the large brick home and noticed the ever-changing activity down on the beach. I had to pinch myself. My heart skipped a beat. Is this really true? ‘Yes’, I told myself, ‘I’m here and this is my new home.’
            When I got closer to this magnificent house the sun blinded me and my hand came up to shade my eyes.  There it was. The grand building with the green and white striped awnings that looked like flirtatious eyelashes stood before me. I looked up to the top porch on the left and goose bumps shivered up my arms. I almost dropped my camera.
            I plopped my tote between my legs and placed my camera in my hands. Taking the cap off the lens I noticed the wondrous bouquets of flowers dancing in the garden behind the short black gate.  The colors of my life were all represented in these terra cotta pots, climbing vines and well-tended beds. Set against the lush hanging baskets, green grass and red bricks, the garden looked like a little bit of heaven.
            This would not be a ‘photographic’ shot but a document of the exterior of my new home.  I tilted the lens up towards the roof and focused in on the stately geometric outline.  I took a breath and gently pressed a picture of my oasis. As I heard that familiar click of the shutter the wooden screen door up beyond the front steps opened and a heavy- set woman with a friendly face appeared.

            “For the front cover of tomorrow’s paper?”, she laughed.
            “Front cover of Architectural Digest!” I replied.
            “Well my dear, if you say so, it will be.”
            “I’ve got one shot left. Would you mind if I took a picture of your flowers?”
            “They’d love that.” She admitted.
             My eyes moved across the yard and I decided on a close-up of some voluptuous pink peonies, which were gracefully drooping out through the iron fence.  I zoomed in and created a balanced frame around the petals. When I was finished I heard her speak.

            “Though the peony is beautiful, it must be supported by green leaves.”
             I looked up to see her smiling back at me then I fumbled to gather up my tote which had lumped over and partially emptied out onto the blistering sidewalk.  Standing up I slung my camera over my shoulder and walked through the little iron gate into the tiny front yard.  Approaching my new landlord I walked onto an old flagstone pathway lovingly kept company by rich green moss that cuddled ever crevice.

            “Step on a crack, you’ll break your mother’s back.” She reminded me.
            “I haven’t heard that in years.”
            “But you’ve held it inside all that time, no?” she said as she took my hand.
            “Hi, I’m Sydney Parker”, I said with a smile.
            “Hello Sydney. I’m Gabriel, your new best friend.”

You may preview and purchase my novel, Babies here

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