Guest Blog: LM Preston

TRUSTING IN YOURSELF

Trusting your own gut feelings is one of the best gifts we possess.  We all get that little ‘twinge’ when something just isn’t right.  When that happens…LISTEN TO IT!  Trust yourself or your ‘gut’ some call it.  Trust it at all times, it will never steer you wrong.

When I was young I lived in the inner-city.  The neighborhood I called home, had gangs, drugs, muggers, killers, and lots of kids and family nearby.  However, with all of these things present, I didn’t realize that my gut instincts were strengthening with each day I played outside, walked to school, to the bus, or traveled the city alone.

I never understood why my grandmother, affectionately named NaNa, didn’t want me to leave my block to go to the store alone.  Or why, I wasn’t allowed to cut through the alleys to get to my cousin’s house, and the numerous lists of things I was told to watch out for.

My main character in EXPLORER X – Alpha realizes that something isn’t quite right with the immunization he is given.  Aadi takes the initiative as asks the Doctor why it is being given to him.  In addition to this finding, Aadi confirms his concerns with others. 

Here are some steps to take in trusting yourself in all things;

LISTEN TO THAT ‘TWINGE’ IN YOUR GUT

When you are in a situation with a friend or an adult, and you get that feeling that something isn’t quite right, then you are most likely correct.  Learn yourself, and test this ability. 

Take this example for instance.  Your friend tells you that you should sneak out to go to that great party that so-and-so is going to, but you feel this tickle in your tummy before you hesitate.  This is your gut talking to you.  It’s telling you … hold on … don’t jump into this.

Listen to it.  Find out how your gut talks to you.  Think of all those times you got into major trouble, and ponder over what you felt just before you did the deed that got you into that mess.  That’s how you learn how your psyche talks to you.

TAKE A STEP BACK, AND ASK QUESTIONS

Never, ever, feel like you don’t have the right to ask a question.  Asking a question only gets you in trouble when it hasn’t been asked, or the person of whom you are asking the question doesn’t want to give you an answer.

Don’t think I’m right on this?  Test it, and think back to times when the person of whom you asked a question reacted negatively.  In most cases, it is because they don’t want to give you an answer.

Asking the question is never, ever wrong.  You have the right.  So use it when you are in those situations where your gut is telling you that something is just not adding up.

IF IT DOESN’T ADD UP THEN IT DOESN’T ADD UP

When something doesn’t make sense, or the story just sounds down right disjointed, and your gut is telling you that something is off.  Then trust your gut, something is off.

This is a saying my Nana used to tell me when I would give her a scenario of what a friend told me, or did to me.

“Honey, if it doesn’t add up, it won’t add up.  Something is definitely not right with that story.”

Do you know in each instance she said this, she was absolutely correct. 

TAKE ACTION

If you get that feeling something isn’t right take action. 

In EXPLORER X – Alpha Aadi and Eirena, his co-pilot investigated their gut feeling that something is off about their camp with their team.  They find that terrible things have been done to them.

There are several ways to take action.  Here are some;

-         Just tuck the knowledge away, and wait for the truth to reveal itself.  Believe it or not this happens a lot in life.  The truth has a way of coming out.  Sometimes it happens quickly, and sometimes it takes a long, long time. 

-         Ask questions.  Don’t be afraid to ask questions in order to get the answers you want.  You can ask anyone questions, and that may solve the mystery.

-         Run away or stay away.  If you are in a situation where an adult or a peer appears to be leading you in a direction that you feel is not safe.  Run.  There is no harm in running away from or staying away from someone.

TAKE ACTION

Realize that you have control of your destiny.  No matter what happens to you in your life, you can learn from it all and become a better person.  Making the same mistakes will become harder the more you learn to trust your gut instincts, and yourself.

by: LM Preston, www.lmpreston.com author of EXPLORER X - Alpha

Also, check out her book trailer for Explorer X -Alpha:

Michelle Moran Guest Post & Contest

Why Cleopatra’s daughter?

 

It all began with a dive. Not the kind of dive you take into a swimming pool, but the kind where you squeeze yourself into a wetsuit and wonder just how tasty your rump must appear to passing sharks now that it looks like an elephant seal. My husband and I had taken a trip to Egypt, and at the suggestion of a friend, we decided to go to Alexandria to see the remains of Cleopatra’s underwater city. Let it be known that I had never gone scuba diving before, but after four days with an instructor (and countless questions like, “Will there be sharks? How about jellyfish? If there is an earthquake, what happens underwater?”) we were ready for the real thing.

We drove one morning to the Eastern Harbor in Alexandria. Dozens of other divers were already there, waiting to see what sort of magic lay beneath the waves. I wondered if the real thing could possibly live up to all of the guides and brochures selling this underwater city, lost for thousands of years until now.. Then we did the dive, and it was every bit as magical as everyone had promised. We saw the blocks that once formed Marc Antony’s summer palace, came face to face with Cleopatra’s enigmatic sphinx, and floated above ten thousand ancient artifacts, including obelisks, statues, and countless amphorae. By the time we surfaced, I was Cleopatra-obsessed. I wanted to know what had happened to her city once she and Marc Antony had committed suicide. Where did all of its people go? Were they allowed to remain or were they killed by the Romans? And what about her four children?

It was this last question that surprised me the most. I had always assumed that Cleopatra’s children had all been murdered. But the Roman conqueror, Octavian, actually spared the three she bore to Marc Antony:  her six-year-old son, Ptolemy, and her ten-year-old twins, Alexander and Selene. As soon as I learned that Octavian had taken the three of them to Rome for his Triumph, I knew at once I had my next book. And when I discovered what Cleopatra’s daughter lived through while in exile – rebellion, loss, triumph, love -  I absolutely couldn’t wait to start writing. I can only hope that the novel is as exciting and intriguing as the research proved to be. It may be two thousand years in the past, but a great love story, as they say, is timeless.

CLEOPATRA'S DAUGHTER: a novel
The death of Cleopatra was only the beginning...

Visit CleopatrasDaughter.com
Check out Michelle's blog at michellemoran.blogspot.com
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Now for the contest:

Prize: A hardback copy of Cleopatra's Daughter by Michelle Moran & an ancient Roman coin complete with certificate of authenticity

To enter: Leave a comment with a valid email address

Extra entries:
+2 if you're already a follower
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Open to: International! Anyone, anywhere can enter!

Ends: October 23, 2009 at midnight

Author Guest Blog: Megan Crewe

Five great books I read because of school

Time for school! Sure, that means less free time and more work, but it also means a chance to discover some awesome books. While I didn't love every book I read for school, my teachers introduced me to a whole lot of excellent ones. Here are five of my faves (in chronological order):

James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl -- This isn't actually my favorite Dahl book (that would be The Witches, followed closely by Danny the Champion of the World and The BFG), but I have to give props to my third grade teacher for reading this book to my class and introducing us to this amazing author.

Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt -- Both beautiful writing and an intense and moving story, this is one of my favorite books of all time. And who knows if I'd have found it if it wasn't on the grade six reading list?

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee -- A slice of history, a totally authentic voice, and powerful themes of prejudice and judgement. Love it just as much now as when we studied it in high school!

Lord of the Flies by William Golding -- I can still remember the heated classroom debates about the meaning of various symbols and character motivations in this book. Creepy and disturbing but oh so believable.

The Wars by Timothy Findlay -- Reading this book in senior year was, I think, the first time I felt I understood what it was like being in a war. Brutal and vivid and heart-wrenching. I actually studied it twice (in university as well) and never got tired of it.

Blogger Guest Blog: Kristi of The Story Siren

First off I want to thank Katie for asking me to participate! Hopefully I won't bore you too much with my back to school tale! Hope everyone has a great school year! Good Luck!


Today the theme is Back to School. I, for one, can't believe that it's that time of year again. Where did our summer go, it seems that this year has just flew by. Time always flies, whether you're having fun or not. Luckily I've been having fun, but back to the topic at hand. Back to School.


I loved going back to school every year. Fall is one of my favorite times of year, with the leaves crunching under your feet and warm apple cider. Ah, it's making me nostalgic just thinking about it. Not the mention the smell of all the new school supplies, shopping for new clothes, and the allure of the unknown. What would this school year hold!?


Every year I hoped that “this year” would be different. That this year, that boy would notice me, that this year those girls would want to be my friends. I was sure that my meticulously planned outfit and my brand new shoes, would propel me from a nobody to a somebody. That my new hair cut and zit medication would work their magical wonders, and I'd go from plain Jane to a mesmerizing Molly. And guess what, it never happen, my new shoes didn't propel me to instant popularity. Not even once. Finally I excepted reality, that this wasn't a fairy tale and things that just don't happen. And yet, even though I knew that it would never happen, I secretly never stopped wishing it would.


I think I was so worried about being accepted and noticed that I forget to look at the big picture. I was to busy focusing on things I thought I wanted, instead of seeing the great things I did have. Like my friends, my family, the awesome person I really was.


If I have any advice to give you back to schoolers, it would be this. Take this new school year as an opportunity to discover who you really are and how great you really are. Don't limit yourself! And don't forget to take the time to crunch in the leaves.

Author Guest Blog: Lindsay Eland

Every year at the end of August when the days were getting cooler and a crisp chill hung in the evenings, a package would arrive at our house on Storch Road. It was addressed to my sisters and me and written with a black permanent marker that smelled like it had just been written. I remember following behind my mom as she took the large brown box from the UPS man, smiled, and then brought it into the living room and placed it on the floor.

Then there were anxious squeals because the tape could never be cut through or ripped off fast enough.

“Hurry, Hurry, Mom!”

And then, I held my breath as the brown flaps were pulled away revealing: school supplies. Heavenly, glorious school supplies!

Ah, the scent, and the sight, and the feel of them were like a piece of heaven in a box!

I still remember the sight. And even though I always got new school clothes that I’d gaze at as they hung expectantly on hangers in my closet, and even though I always got new school shoes that I wore out before that first day by clicking up and down the sidewalks watching my feet.

But the school supplies were the best of all!

The white lined paper wrapped in cellophane that I could peel off with a small tear. The unsharpened pencils that smelled like falling leaves and warm sweaters and clean desks. Shiny, smooth folders with animals on them, a new pencil box that clicked shut, a small metal box of colored pencils, and erasers shaped like puppies and kitties and horses.

And still, I find myself getting really, really, really excited over a trip to Office Max. The smell of the inside is like the smell of that box back in our living room on Storch Road. And then I walk the isle’s gazing at the supplies hanging off the metal pegs like treasures for the taking.

And sometimes I just want to take that smell home with me, and so I’ll buy myself some new white paper, pencils waiting to be sharpened, and a brand new pencil box that makes the perfect “click” sound when it’s shut.

Author Guest Blog: Susan McBride

I Heart Books

by Susan McBride

I’ve always been a bookworm.

We moved around a lot when I was growing up so every few years we picked up stakes and went to a new place, wherever my dad’s job sent him. By the time I was thirteen, I’d lived in five different cities (four different states), and I’d been enrolled in four different schools. It made it hard to keep friendships when we never stayed anywhere for very long. The only thing I could count on in those days was books.

The first thing I did whenever we got settled was to visit the nearest library and get a library card. I’d check out a stack of books, as many as they’d let me take, and I’d read them in my room in our new house. The stories took me away from all my worries and fears about starting classes mid-term with people I didn’t know and trying to find friends in our new neighborhood.

I loved books so much that I built my own library, putting pockets with cards inside the front cover. I got a date stamp, and I made my brother and sister check books out. To this day, they’re not big readers. Hmm, wonder if I had anything to do with that?

When I was in fifth grade, I tried my hand at writing novels. I have three from back then saved in a box in my closet. One was about two friends who solved crimes on their street, another was an illustrated tale about two nice monsters from Monsterville, and the third was a mystery, like a Nancy Drew, called THE SECRET OF THE FORBIDDEN TEMPLE. I even made a paper cover for it with artwork on the front and spine. Inside the back flap, I noted “Other Books by Susan McBride” and made up a bunch of titles. I loved the thrill of conjuring up characters and putting them in situations I could only dream about. It was the perfect escape, and I let my imagination fly.

I should have realized back then that I was destined to be a writer. But it took awhile longer for me to figure that out. I didn’t seriously consider becoming a novelist until I was 19 and between transferring colleges. My family was road-tripping to my grandparents’ house for Christmas, and I had an epiphany. “I will write a book!” a little voice inside my head announced as I sat in the back seat, trying to keep a safe distance from my irritating little brother. I dug out a tiny notepad and pen from my purse, and I started scribbling then and there. What I ended up writing—a 600-page historical romance called THE THORN OF THE ROSE—was never published. But I did send it out to various editors and agents who encouraged me to keep at it.

Every year after I graduated college, I penned a new novel. I had 10 of them written before I ever signed a book contract after winning a writing contest. A small press published AND THEN SHE WAS GONE and OVERKILL, before a New York agent took me on. She got me a three-book deal with Avon for my Debutante Dropout Mysteries, starting with BLUE BLOOD in 2004 (and ending with TOO PRETTY TO DIE in 2008). About the time my third mystery came out in 2006, my agent was approached by an editor looking for an author to write about debutantes in the South, kind of like GOSSIP GIRL with a drawl. That’s when I devised THE DEBS, the debut of my young adult series that features four Houston prep school seniors during their debutante season. (And, yes, debutantes still exist! Even though I’ve gotten emails asking, “Didn’t debs go the way of the dinosaur?”)

I’ve had a blast devising tall Texas tales about best friends Laura, Ginger, and Mac and their arch-enemy Jo Lynn. Since I went to junior high and high school in Houston where the series is set, I’ve had the chance to revisit my roots there and put old memories to good use. Everything really is bigger in Texas—like hair, personalities, and drama!—so it’s been a hoot using the Lone Star State as the backdrop for THE DEBS novels as well as for my Debutante Dropout books.

Although it was never much fun moving around when I was growing up, in a way I’m grateful for the challenges I had to face early on. I don’t think I’d be the person I am now without those experiences. Because of them, I learned to use my imagination, both as a reader and a writer. Isn’t it amazing, how words can transport us to other worlds, especially when we need to escape from our own? I love that!

No matter what, no matter where, it’s always home if books are there. J

Guest Blog: Sarah Quigley

Guest Blog: Confessions of a Wannabe Alternateen

My goal in high school was to be the ultimate alternateen. It was the early 1990s, and grunge music had crept out of the damp garages of Seattle and into MTV and mainstream radio. I played my Nirvana and Alice in Chains cassettes until they wore out. I wore lots of black. I drank coffee with tons of cream. I read Sassy magazine. And I desperately pined for a long-haired, flannel-wearing boyfriend.

My path to becoming an alternateen was paved with some obstacles. The first was friends, or my serious lack of them. The people that I wanted to hang out with, the ones going to Soundgarden concerts and starting their own bands, intimidated me. I didn’t feel cool enough to even talk to them. Instead, I ate lunch with girls who listened to Top 40 radio and shopped at Deb. They were nice enough, but I didn’t feel like I was friends with any of them. I felt like they tolerated my presence but secretly thought I was a total weirdo. Which I was.

Am.

Another issue was my budget. I made minimum wage ($4.25) frying chicken and washing dishes at the supermarket deli, and most of my earnings were poured down the gas tank of my trusty 1974 Dodge Dart. I couldn’t afford the wardrobe staple of alternateens everywhere: Doc Marten boots. All I had were my stupid fake leather Doc knockoffs from Payless, which made my feet sweat like nobody’s business. Spending a day in those boots was like throwing my feet into one of the deepest pits of hell, so I rarely wore them.

What I could afford were t-shirts. The best ones, of course, could only be obtained at concerts, and I was not allowed to drive to Minneapolis to see shows yet. Fortunately, I had a pen pal in Green Bay, Wisconsin, who was the leading the life I dreamed about. She had a boyfriend who looked like Eddie Vedder, and her parents let her go to as many concerts as she wanted. I mailed her fifteen dollars and asked her to get me a t-shirt at the next show she went to.

Two weeks later, a manila envelope arrived in my mailbox. Yes! I ripped it open and unfolded the shirt. Here is what I saw:

I’d seen one of the long-haired alternaboys (my would-be boyfriends) wearing this shirt around school, and I was pleased. I’d never heard Dinosaur Jr’s music, but that didn’t matter in the least. I was certain that this t-shirt was the ticket to all my dreams. It would transform me from nerdy freak to alternateen.

The next morning, I put on my new t-shirt, feeling instantly cooler. I threw on my rattiest pair of jeans and (ugh) the fake Doc Martens. I walked downstairs to have breakfast, throwing my shoulders back, certain that this was going to be the best day of my life.

My mother was in the kitchen making pancakes. She glanced up from the griddle, and her eyes grew wide.

“What are you wearing?”

“A t-shirt.”

“I can see that. Why are you wearing a shirt that shows a little girl smoking a cigarette?”

“I like the band.” A lie, but what did my mother know?

“You can’t wear that to school.”

“Why?”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“Why?” I knew why.

“You know why.”

My grandfather had died the previous summer of lung cancer, and my mom was working on an anti-tobacco campaign for the state. I was as against smoking as she was, but couldn’t she see that the shirt was a joke?

“I want to wear it.”

“Well, then you’ll have to cover up the cigarette somehow.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then go find a different shirt.”

This was unbelievable. Did my mother realize that she was shattering my dreams and ruining my life? Obviously not. I stomped upstairs to my mother’s sewing corner and rummaged through her supplies. I found a patch of the American flag. I carefully ironed it on to my t-shirt so that it was hanging off the end of the cigarette. Now it looked like the girl was hanging out a Fourth of July parade.

“Happy?” I asked my mom, modeling my modified t-shirt.

She smiled faintly. “Not really, but it’s an improvement. Go ahead and wear it if you want.”

That day at school, a bunch of people asked me why I had a patch on my t-shirt. I explained that I’d bought the shirt this way at a concert, but I don’t think anybody bought my story. I was a fraud, and everybody knew it.

I couldn’t wait for the day to end, and I bolted from my seat as the bell rang at the end of eighth period. As I race to my locker, I noticed the long-haired boys standing in a cluster by the water fountain. The cutest one smiled when he saw me, and nudged his friends. This was it. I was officially a joke.

Then they all started clapping and shouting, “Yeah!”

Were they serious? It looked like it.

I smiled a little and continued walking. After I passed them, a huge grin broke out on my face. They thought my shirt was cool, even with the dumb flag patch. Maybe there was hope for me after all.

I never wore that t-shirt again, but I did eventually buy the Green Mind album, whose cover features the smoking girl. It’s good. I wish I’d heard it before I put on that t-shirt. The title track would have provided me with some much-needed perspective:

I've been bouncing off the walls
I can’t hang with them for long
They’re cool, but I need you
On a certain level I think they’re great
But on another I can’t relate
To anything they do

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Thanks, Sarah, for this great guest blog!