Fun Stuff to go With Cherished Preserver

If you've read my book, Cherished Preserver, you know that the heroine, Sarah Scott, has an interesting time in tomb KV38 in the Valley of the Kings.  If you'd like to have a better look at her tomb, try this link to the Theban Mapping Project sight.http://www.thebanmappingproject.com/sites/browse_tomb_852.html

Sarahs Journal November 26, 1910

         I don’t know why I need to write about this, for I’m certain sure that I’ll never in my life forget it.  My jaw still drops when I think of the sight my eyes beheld today on the deck of the steamer:  Professor Ross in his shirtsleeves AND NO TIE!!  For three long years I’ve never seen the man in anything but a tidy suit. Even on field study he wore a dressy, many-pocketed coat, but not today.  What a handsome figure he cut.  The girls back home would have fainted dead away, especially because his hair too was soft and free.  It wasn’t slicked back as usual.  AND IT’S WAVY!  With curls on his forehead.  I almost fainted myself.  I at the very least stared for longer than was proper.  My, but he looked younger.  If I didn’t know he was ten years my senior, I would have thought him twenty-five, but for his eyes.  They may be brown and kind, but they’ve seen many things: grand and evil.  I can tell.  And if I ever found it difficult to focus before, well, the difficulty has magnified a hundred fold.

Writer's Block, What's Up With That?

We've all heard about it, that dreaded condition that affects even the best of writers: the evil and terrifying writer's block.  I for one don't believe in it.

I just don't see the point in frightening a writer by stating that their creativity is "blocked" just because they haven't written for a while.  Every writer has gone through dry patches where nothing seems to be transferred from brain to paper, but I take this for more of a break, not a block.

To craft any story, a certain amount of percolation must occur and anyone who's tried percolated coffee as opposed to the auto drip variety knows that a little extra time amounts to a much more robust brew.

I have a dear friend in my writer's group who is also a working mother.  We laugh together about how we seem to take turns writing.  It seems that when she is hot on a new idea, I'm dry, and vice versa.  But we both get so excited about the other's writing that it seems that we are writing ourselves.  My other friend in our group takes a different approach.  She reads stories she loves, and writes short stories, fan fiction or funny commercials when a new story or new characters are being stubborn about showing themselves.

So don't fret, dear writing friends, when you find yourself not writing for a bit.  Stress and deadlines can make our creativity take a nosedive.  And sometimes other aspects of our lives need our attention more at the moment.  So just relax and let that new idea brew.  Go for a day trip and see new places.  Also you could think about finding a few writer friends to share your life and creativity with.  Whatever you do, don't worry about the term "writer's block," because you are a writer, and no silly trumped up term can change that.

Have fun!

Sarah's Journal: Nov. 25, 1910

My, what a day!  This first afternoon on the steamer was quite an eventful one.  But then the first day on an expedition usually is.  We arrived at the dock a bit later than Professor Ross had intended.  There seemed to be road blockages on every street possible on the way to the dock.  If our taxi driver had not been so adroit we would have missed our ship all together. 

         Then, just before we boarded, Gene arrived.  Honestly, the boy surprised me.  I truly didn’t think he cared anymore.  I would have written him from Egypt anyway, even if he did not see me off.  He is my childhood friend, and that at least should count for something even though he has become a bit of a dandy and drunkard.  I never thought it would happen knowing him the way I do.  My greatest hope is that he will find a better path to take.  His kiss goodbye was quite startling, but on further consideration, I do not think it meant anything and am convinced Gene will find another lady to call his “girl” when I’m gone.  I only hope she will lead him down that right path. 

         Enough of my old friend.  Mrs. Billings and I have settled quite nicely into our rooms.  They are adjoined to my professor’s cabin by a well-appointed sitting room.  This whole arrangement is far more than I had bargained for.  Very posh way for a girl to travel on expedition I’d say.  But I suppose Mrs. Billings likes her comforts.  I just hope she didn’t have to shell out a pile of extra money to take me with her.  I like to make my own way.

         Tonight at dinner Professor Ross was very protective for some reason.  He appeared to be scanning the other passengers with intense interest and such a set expression of annoyance on his face that I thought it would surely stay that way.  I thought he’d kill the young man who asked me to dance.  Honestly, he must have been a brave one just to approach the table.  Poor fellow, his friends all laughed at him when he went back to his own table defeated. 

Sarah's Journal: Nov. 24, 1910

We are leaving tomorrow!  I'm so excited I just know I won't sleep a wink tonight.  The fellows from the shipping company collected my trunk just this morning, and poor Aunt had to hold me back so I wouldn't jump into their truck with it.

Later:

Professor Ross picked Aunt and me up and took us to stay in New York City for the night so we could just take a taxi to the docks in the morning.  Aunt came to see us off.  She also wanted to say her good buys to Mrs. Billings for she has no idea when she will see her again.

I'm actually writing this journal entry from the balcony of my room at the hotel.  It's very late and, as I predicted, I can not sleep!  It's quite cold out here too but I'm comfortable in my warmest cloak.

Oops, I've been found out!  Professor Ross just appeared on the balcony next to mine and told me in no uncertain terms to go to bed!!  He also vowed I'd catch my death if I remained on the balcony in this weather.  Silly, he knows I never get sick.  I haven't missed a day of school in the last three years.  Oh, dear now he's scowling at me and I'd better hop to it.  But not without informing him that he'd best go to bed and not stay out in the weather and catch his death.

My Latest Book

For those of you who have read my novel, Cherished Preserver, you'll know that Sarah's Aunt Tilly has a bit of an interesting past.  If you'd like to know just how interesting, pick up a copy of my novella, Aunt's Story.  Here is the back cover copy.

Matilda Scott wanted nothing to do with the suitors in her small home town on the Outer Banks. Especially the persistent local teacher, Mr. Taylor.

Since her parents died all she hoped for in life was a quiet existence of raising her little brother and keeping the light in the tall lighthouse tower burning.

 However, when a storm blows in a group of pirates, Matilda's life is permanently altered as her heart is pilfered and now resides in the breast of the dashing Captain Tempest who defends it, and their right to love, with his sword and with his life.

It also has an excerpt of Cherished Preserver in the back, so buy one for a friend.  They might like both stories.  
You can find it on Amazon.com or at my Createspace e-store.  Here is the link.  https://www.createspace.com/3668701

Sarah's Journal: Nov. 20, 1910

         My time for departure is quickly approaching, and I’m quite glad for it.  Perhaps my troubles will not follow me to Egypt.  I’d really like to know who all these tattooed thugs are working for and why they follow me everywhere.  I suppose it will wait until I return home in the spring.  Aunt will be safe I know, because she will be traveling to Arizona to stay at Erik’s ranch for a while.  It will be good for her, and if she is with Erik I will not worry about her.  So far these villains have not hurt anyone else around me, but I don’t put any trust in that never happening.

         They seem to be coming after me more often now.  Just yesterday I spotted two in the park while I was sledding with some of the town’s children.  Professor Ross was there too.  He had surprised me by picking me up in a bright red sleigh.  We rode to the park and gave the children rides, then the children kindly let us take turns on their sleds.  We had a great time.  But I can’t believe those fellows are after me in broad daylight now.  Apparently they will not do anything with my professor there.  I sincerely hope this does not put him in danger.