Guest Blogger

The Elusive Muse by Lexie Stewart

People often ask me where I get my ideas from. My answer: a combination of observation and inspiration.

  You’ve probably heard of the 2003 film, Love Actually, that presents the idea that love is actually all around us, all the time. The same can be said of inspiration. No matter how uninspired you might feel, inspiration, actually, is all around.

  If you’re feeling stuck for an idea, don’t just sit there glaring at the page/screen and tapping your pen/the keys impatiently saying, “Come on, come on, Muse. Where are you?” (And don’t go raid the fridge either. Your muse isn’t hiding in the biscuit jar!)

  Go for a walk. Empty your mind and concentrate on your senses. What can you see? What can you hear? What smells are in the air?

  If you see something strange, ask yourself what events could have lead to this occurrence. Why did the much beloved ginger cat on the ‘Have you seen Fluffy?’ poster run away from home? Why did the young man with the leather jacket slam his car door? Who are the lovers whose initials are carved into that tree in the park?

  Many of my stories have started from a single, seemingly insignificant observation. For instance, one time, whilst passing through a friend’s kitchen, I noticed a basket full of scones sitting on the bench. It looked so sweet, so idyllic, the freshly baked scones covered with a blue-checked cheesecloth. It put me in mind of fairytales and paintings of girls with long hair and frilly dresses picking flowers along the garden path. An image of Little Red Riding Hood came to mind, basket of goodies hang over one arm, off to Grandma’s place.

  It occurred to me that girls don’t do that these days. I tried to picture it. Why would a modern day girl be skipping about with a basket on her arm? And then there she was, Sally Hudson, making deliveries for her one woman business: Sweet Sally’s Bakery Treats!

  She became the heroine for my story Worth Waiting For

  Sally, or Sweet Sally as she’s known, isn’t off to see one grandma but many, as she’s making deliveries to the residents of the Spring Haven Hill retirement village, namely a dear, old couple called Pat and Doris Elliot who are the grandparents of Sally’s ex, Flynn Elliot, with whom she’s still in love.

  Worth Waiting For is not a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. That basket of scones and the images it brought up were just the spark, a starting point from which my story took off in a completely different direction and became a contemporary romance about two sweethearts getting a second chance at love.

  A spark is all you need; the kindling is already inside you and it just takes a tiny spark to set your imagination ablaze. So, whenever you’re feeling stuck for an idea just remember that inspiration is, actually, all around you.

 Thanks for reading,

Lexie.

 

Author Bio:   Ever since I learned to read, I could always be found with my nose in a book--even when I was supposed to be doing something else!

  I love the magic of stories, love following the twists and turns, love getting to know the strange and wonderful characters and experiencing their stories with them. 

  I remember a poster stuck to my bedroom wall when I was a kid. A wizard in splendid, purple robes was summoning a dragon in an explosion of red and gold flames. In a way, writers are wizards, summoning stories and souls from the wilderness of their imagination.

  I live in Australia where I write and read and marvel at the blueness of the sky.

 

Available Books:

Too Many Suitors

Jessica finds herself trying to choose between three men. She’s an up front, pro-active sort of woman. So instead of staying home alone or attempting to see each of her suitors behind the backs of the other two, she invites out the three men. Gym-junkie Brad, workaholic Saul and BFF Jimmy. She explains the problem of her conflicted heart and, she tells them what her solution is. She’ll date all three!

 

 

My Pirate Lover

When Josephine takes her niece whale watching she has no idea what she’s getting herself into. Their little catamaran becomes the target of a wicked 19th century pirate called Captain Bloody who uses a magical device to plunder seafaring vessels from the future and use their technologies to make people in his own time think he’s a god.   Josephine finds herself on a black-sailed Galleon in the wrong time, surrounded by bloodthirsty pirates and the captive of Captain Bloody who has taken her as his share of the ‘booty’.   But before Josephine can say yo-ho-ho captain Bloody’s nemesis, the infamous Captain Breakheart crashes through the cabin window and steals her for himself!   Now Josephine must team up with the pirate to find the magical device that will get her back to her own time to save her niece- that’s if she can survive the many dangers of their journey and resist the charms of the dashing captain Breakheart!

 Worth Waiting For  Three years after breaking Sally’s heart by mysteriously ending their relationship, Flynn Elliot is back in town. Sally soon discovers that she’s still in love with Flynn but he’s changed. Both Flynn’s new attitude and his new girlfriend are vain, shallow and materialistic.Sally’s head tells her the man she loved is gone and she should forget about him but her heart tells her that there’s more than meets the eye to Flynn’s apparent transformation and behind the façade the real Flynn is still there and their love is worth giving a second chance.Will Sally listen to her head or her heart?Catwalk Cats

Dora and her fellow models are called cats because they earn their money walking up and down a catwalk. But they have other feline qualities, such as grace, beauty, excessive grooming and, of course, an instinct for cattiness.

 

 

 

 

 

Guest Blogger Donna Del Oro and The Delphi Bloodline

Twenty-plus years ago, I became obsessed with exploring the facts and fictions of ESP phenomena. My cousin, a practicing clairvoyant, had inspired me to delve into the whole realm of parapsychology, or study of psychic phenomena. Highly skeptical about the whole business, I nonetheless signed up for a weekend ESP workshop, given by a Czech physicist who once worked for the Moscow Institute for Psychic Research. The workshop took place in a classroom at a local community college (Foothill College) in my Silicon Valley town of Los Altos Hills.

There were eleven of us, all total strangers—nine women and two men. The first day, Saturday, the Czech physicist lectured on the history of ESP and the various forms and types of ESP: Clairvoyance, clairaudience, clairsentience, precognition, telepathy, psychometry, psychokinesis, remote viewing and channeling. The study of psychic phenomena is called “parapsychology”.  Psi (pronounced “sigh”) is the study of psychic phenomena from a psychological perspective. The Journal of Parapsychology defines psi as “a general term to identify a person’s extrasensory-motor communication with the environment.”  Psi is a letter of the Greek alphabet and the first letter of the Greek word, “psyche”, which literally means “breath” in Greek and refers to the human soul. Basically, having ESP means that you are able to perceive someone’s thoughts, situation, or issues in life without using one of your five ordinary senses.
The Czech physicist leading our ESP Workshop claimed to be a former skeptic, himself, and a dedicated non-believer who, after working in the experimental testing labs of the Moscow Institute, became a convert. He had seen incontrovertible proof, in his opinion, that ESP existed in gifted intuitives. These intuitives were able to consciously apply knowledge they had accessed and processed in an unconscious, unexplainable manner, and that science could not explain.
Yet.
He ended that first day of the workshop with instructions to return on Sunday with a notebook and an inanimate object that had emotional significance to each one of us.  The next day, the same eleven of us brought our own individual objects, which we all carried concealed in plain brown paper bags. Each of us put our paper bag into a cardboard box behind the physicist’s podium. Later, each of us approached the box and withdrew a paper bag that was not our own. After everyone had at his/her desk his chosen bag, he then told us to open the bag, take out the stranger’s object and hold it in our hands.  Then he timed us. For the next fifteen minutes, we were to meditate on the object and write down any visions, words or impressions that came to our minds. We were not to censor anything, no matter how strange, puzzling or nonsensical the vision, word or impression seemed.
At the end of the timed period, he went from person to person and asked us to identify the owner of the object and to read aloud our visions, words or impressions. We did. What followed was truly astonishing and something I will never forget as long as I live. Nine out of the eleven of us correctly identified the owners of the objects. Eight out of eleven of us had made several—at least three to four--correct associations and revelations about the object, its owner and facts about the owner.
For example, I correctly identified the owner of the object I held—a macramé type of belt. I’d had visions of a shelf full of potted succulents and cactus plants. A red-brick apartment building, the kind you find in the Eastern U.S.  Those two associations fit. The woman said she had a collection of cacti in pots and that she’d recently moved from Philadelphia, where she’d lived in a red-brick apartment building. There was also a scene of a little boy on a bike, which the woman could not place or relate to in any way. Who knows? Maybe it did later.
Well, the fact that I’d gotten three out of four correct got my attention. After that experiment, I became a believer. Other experiences followed, too, including two precognitive dreams. Many years later, the idea for THE DELPHI BLOODLINE manifested itself and I ran with it. Researching and writing that novel was one of the most enjoyable and most satisfying experiences of my life.

Blurb:
Present day descendants of the ancient, psychically powerful Delphi bloodline face the threat of extinction when an evil tycoon hunts them for his own nefarious intent, a global spy network.
When artist Athena Butler, the modern-day descendant of a powerful, ancient bloodline of psychic women, realizes she’s the target of mysterious and dangerous kidnappers, she gets help from strange sources—the spirit of an ancient ancestor and a handsome man who claims to be one of her bloodline’s Guardians. Her mental powers and his brawny skills keep them one step ahead of the mastermind behind these kidnappers. Until the time when an FBI task force decides to use Athena as bait.
Excerpt from The Delphi Bloodline:

Chapter One

Pyramid Valley, Nevada[Soft Break]Thursday AM

Athena Butler’s eyes blinked open and she sat up.
Coming back from The Flow was always jolting. Emerging from the stream of spirits was like a water skier lurching out of the water, pulled by a strong, invisible force. The mind caught up later to the body as if it required a rough snap to break free.
Likewise, to go there was like jumping out of a plane and feeling the air rush to your face, your limbs weightless and wobbly. Most of the time, it was a joy to enter this world of unseen spirits. Athena welcomed her visits, especially at night when she found herself invariably alone.
When she was a child, she’d often emerge from The Flow with a fearful whimper and a cry. She’d wept and wanted to stay in The Flow. Now, at twenty-six, Athena had grown accustomed to her mental flights. They were no longer fear-inducing for she understood their purpose. But her exits were still mind-wrenching and she often lay in bed afterwards, disoriented.
This morning, fear clutched her heart and she could barely breathe. With a trembling hand, she reached for her phone.
Breathless, she raked her other hand through her hair and kicked her legs over the side of the bed.  Six AM, Nevada time. She punched her mother’s mobile numbers. It was nine o’clock in D.C.
“Thank God, Mama! Where are you?”
“I’m in Baltimore, near the—.”
“Mama, I had a dream about you. A Flow Dream. The spirits—they want me to warn you! Whatever you’re doing right now, get off the streets.  Go home and lock the door. Call the police!”
Her heart felt like a ticking bomb in her chest.  Athena could barely speak. But her mother knew her and understood her Flow dreams. They were seldom wrong though sometimes a little off in timing. Today, a threat was imminent. She knew it.
“Slow down, Thena. Take a deep breath and tell me slowly about your dream. I don’t doubt you but we must be able to interpret it correctly. You know how these Flow Dreams are. Sometimes the symbolism is strange and difficult to interpret.”
“Okay—just go home and lock the door. Now, Mama!”[Soft Break] [Soft Break]Athena had to swallow hard and take big gulps of air in order to speak. Losing her mother was unthinkable. She’d already lost her father, and in a way, her brother.
“Where are you, Mama?”
She inhaled and counted to five. Her mother wasn’t in Georgetown, where she lived with her second husband. Athena sensed water nearby, a large body of water. Her mind jumped ahead. The body of water in her terrifying dream was vast, a bay leading to the ocean. The Baltimore harbor—of course!
“Near downtown Baltimore. I’m heading toward a section of the city where I believe a little girl’s body was hidden. The police need the evidence from that location.  They think she was hidden somewhere, killed and then a day or two later dumped into the bay. I think I’ve found the monster’s hideout.”
“Mama—”
“I had a session with the homicide detective last night. I handled a few articles of the poor child’s clothing, what she was wearing when they found her. I got some visions so I drove up here to pinpoint the location. It’s not in a very nice part of town but I thought I’d drive around, and then call Detective Bonner when I got something.”
Athena groaned. Her mother was at it again.  Getting involved with homicide cases and trying to use her powers to bring killers to justice.
“Mama, get out of there, please! Go home—”
“I’ve had no sense of this danger, Athena, not to me personally,” her mother said. “Listen, we must talk soon. There are other dangers that I’ve seen…but don’t fret, my car doors are locked, I’m driving my big SUV. I’m in traffic, so relax.”
“Maybe you’re too focused on that homicide case,” Athena stressed. Her mother had no idea the danger she was putting herself in. First-hand experience had taught Athena that working with the cops was a dangerous business. Let them do their work and solve their own cases.
I’m done with all that.
Her mind darted back to the vision in her dream. She took a deep breath and steadied her voice.
“I saw you in your car, Mama. You stopped to get out. A black car pulled in front of you and another one—a long white one—blocked you in back. There was a woman driving the car in front and she was with men who had guns.  Someone grabbed you and carried you to the white car. I could smell salt water and then they took you away. Some place far away. And then I was in the mountains, the Sierras, searching for you.”
Athena bent over, clutching the cell phone, her lifeline to the one person she loved most in the world.  Her stomach cramped into a hard ball.
There was silence. “Mama, go home,” she repeated.
“Okay, Thena, I’m turning back toward the freeway. The harbor shops are on my left. Remember that eight-sided tower, the one with a great view of the harbor and breakwater. The octogon tower. You remember going there on your last visit here, don’t you?”[Soft Break]More silence followed then as an image sprang to Athena’s mind. Yes, they’d had lunch there…
Her mother gasped loudly.  A screech of brakes, metal crunching, glass breaking. Her mother cursing a blue streak in her native Italian.
“What happened, Mama? Are you all right?”
“Yes, dear. Just a stupid fender bender. Merda! Daniel’s going to throw a fit. My second one this year! I’m getting so distracted with these cases—not paying attention to what I’m doing. I swear this car pulled right in front of me, cut me off. It’s not my fault this time.”
More angry muttering followed.
“Dio, I really smashed up that rear end! Thena, I’ll call you right back as soon as I exchange insurance information with the driver. Be right back, Thena.”
“Mama, don’t get out of the—”
The line went dead.  With a cry, Athena sank to her knees on the cold, tile floor. Shivers of dread rippled through her. Her mind went numb with panic.
For God’s sake…Think! Get help!
About the Author:
My pen name is Donna Del Oro and I live in Northern California near the Sierra Nevada foothills and Folsom Lake. After retiring from high school teaching, I decided life was too short to waste. Thus, began a journey doing what I'd been wanting to do for many years--write fiction. I sold my first novel, OPERATION FAMILIA, right away and this book went on to win an award for the Best 2010 Latino Books into Movies Award. Following that first sale, I published three more women's fiction books, then branched out into writing my first love, romantic thrillers. This year, 2012, saw the launch of A BODYGUARD OF LIES and THE DELPHI BLOODLINE, both ebooks and available on Kindle, Nook, Apple, and elsewhere. If you have read any of my books, I welcome your input. Leave me a review on Amazon and your name goes into a pile for a $50 gift card at B&N, my favorite bookstore. You can email me: donna@donnadeloro.com. Thanks for dropping by!"

Author Lorrie Struiff as her Character Winnie Krapski!

Hey there, thanks for having me on your blog today. I sure appreciate this opportunity to tell you a little bit about me.My name is Winnie Krapski. Don’t laugh, after all I had to take my husband’s name. He’s been deceased for a long time now, may he rest in peace.Anyway, one day I got a new perm. Well, driving home, it began storming. Now I’m not talking about a little storm, but one of those that you see lightning streaks everywhere in the sky, and the rain comes down in sheets. I pulled into my driveway and eyed the front door.Of course I didn’t have an umbrella, so I put a newspaper over my head and ducked from tree to tree trying to keep my new perm dry. You all know what happens if a new perm gets wet.I had just made it to my cherry tree when a blast hit my body like I never felt before and everything went black. I came to in the hospital. The doctor said I had a “near death experience.”He said I was one lucky woman. Ha! If he only knew.      I developed a talent from that experience. One I could have nicely done without. When I visited a funeral home and saw the exact image of the body that was lying in the casket also sitting in a chair, I fainted.      Fat Phil Phillips revived me, drove me home, and explained my condition. Not only could I see the ghosties; I could also talk to them and hear them. Fat Phil had the same talent.       I don’t know how I let Fatty talk me into joining the “Call on the Dead Club” chapter in our area. I guess it was his smooth patter and all the good I’d do with my gift by granting one last reasonable request for the spooks so they could truly rest in peace.      If I had known all the trouble this talent would cause me, I might have wished I didn’t survive that lightning blast.      Let me begin by telling you two of the wild happenings trying to fulfill those last wishes. I’ll be sure to tell you more soon.

Winnie Gets a Gift Drafted into the C.O.D. Club (Call on the Dead) by Fat Phil Phillips, her mission is to grant the newly deceased’s ghost one last reasonable request. Can Winnie honor her oath?Well, she tries. But, not before she stumbles into situations that almost get her killed. She’s one spunky broad. Going in StyleThe FBI calls on Winnie’s help. Jack Daniels, aka Double Shot, accidently got run over by his getaway driver on their last bank heist. He didn’t tell anyone where he hid the loot. Winnie’s job? Question his ghostie and find that money.Follow her adventures! Please check out Lorrie Struiff's Books on Amazon!