Greetings, Fire Enthusiasts!

 

At long last, my 6th novel is released. It is entitled: The Color of Sound. It was published this Halloween. I had hoped for a summer release, but things happen. My wonderful editor had some personal challenges and then I had one trip after another this spring/summer: Georgia, to visit my brother's family; Boise, to visit son #2; and then Iceland. That's us to the left there. Rather than rush it through or fight distractions, I delayed it.

 

The truth of the matter is the book has had a beginning, middle and ending for a very long time. I started writing it before publishing Photographs in 2020. The "Disease Which Shall Not Be Named" debuted at exactly the same time, ruining my buzz, as it were, and I mentally walked away.

 

Long story shortened, I'm back. 

 

Being Indie, I have to take the successes where I can. I had a good release event in the beginning of October and nearly ran out of paperbacks at the little store in my town where it took place. I have another store event happening the first weekend in November. On November 16th, I will appear at a Book Faire in Madera, California, where 40+ local authors will gather and sell our wares. I also joined the Central Valley Fiction Writers of California. As you can see by the photo, the book is going on a Book Tour this month. I've also been interviewed a couple of times. I'm over at Lucy Turns Pages and also over at Buy Me a Coffee with author Michael Parkes. And that's just the beginning!

 

Okay, enough of that. Let's let the writing do the talking, shall we...?

 

 

“Close your eyes,” a voice prompts her. “This will hurt a little.”

Instead, conditioned by voices she’s heard since she can remember, she does the opposite and then whatever it was—dream, spell, fiction…it’s over. Without moving, she quickly surveys her surroundings. It’s too dark to see much of anything, especially at first. She’s safely in her room—a small, unadorned bedroom in her single mother’s unremarkable house. This should be the one place where she can be at ease, but it isn’t.

There is no such place.

She steels herself. Almost doesn’t breathe, if that were possible. She slowly pulls up the bed covers, although it’s a comforter in name only. She isn’t cold.

Easy, Jewel, she warns herself. Don’t let your head know what your hands are doing. 

It doesn’t work, and rarely does.

“Awake so soon?” a voice breaks the silence.

She gasps, then quickly collects herself. She knows she ought to have known better.

“Should have heisted those sleeping pills in the CVS last week like I told you. Five finger discount. Ten little pills was all you needed. They’ll help you sleep!”

She hears giggling.

Defeated, she sighs and lifts her head, turns and glances at her digital alarm clock there on the nightstand. The red numbers glow and burn her eyes. It’s 2:03 am.

Of course it is.

She blinks repeatedly and rolls over onto her right side on the middle of the bed. Her eyes have adjusted to the dark. The bare white wall looks gray. It stands before her, indifferent.

Always indifferent.

Always, always.

Everything.

“Have it your way,” the voice continues. “Let’s see how much rest you get… That candy bar you bought and inhaled only made you fatter.”

She hears more giggling. Jewel readjusts the covers and then doesn’t let them go. She tries to ride it out. Sometimes that helps, most times not.

She grimaces and shakes her head, pinching her eyes closed.

It’s Monday, she realizes. School is difficult enough and now she’ll have to survive on little sleep.

More giggling.

“Shut up!” she says under her breath through gritted teeth.

“Sure,” the voice replies. “I’ll shut up and just leave you to stare at the wall. All f---ing night!”

She opens her eyes but says no more. She’s said enough already.

“Listen,” the voice purrs after what feels like a half hour but is no more than a few minutes. “Why don’t we just get up and go for a stroll or something? You’re done sleeping anyway.”

Jewel closes her eyes tight. Though the words are suddenly soothing, she can’t trust them.

“So what if it’s the middle of the night? It’s a small town. There’re only a few neighborhoods here where a ripe girl need fear of getting plucked and devoured. Even fat girls like you. Indeed, you might well like it. You’d still be on your back, if that’s the problem!”

Giggling turns to cackling.

 

 

We'll talk soon.