A Game of Gift Giving Chess... A tale of two lamps

Christmas was last month, can you believe that.  Just a moment ago really.
The gift giving custom used to take place in the wee early hours of Christmas, but now that the kids are in their late teens and early twenties they value their sleep.

Of course the kids go first, Hannah plays Santa and passes out the gifts. The paper flies over their heads and litters the ground. Our kitten, Illinois, chases the ribbons, attacking it with a vengeance. Then a lull settles in as we clean up the floor. The kids spread out their gifts before them oooing and awing the gifts.

Now, it is my husband and I's turn.

This year I go first, a few boxes of gifts sit before me. The paper wrinkled and too much tape covers each.  That man will always use too much tape. I pick one, slowly unwrapping it, digging into the crumpled newspaper until I find an antique milk glass lamp.

I smile, the nubbly glass is cool to the touch...

Every year we have a secret game going... or at least I do.  Can we guess what the other bought?  For years I've gotten it right, always figuring out what each box holds. You would think it would be easy right, because I have weeks to weigh, or rattle the packages, but no, my husband goes shopping on Christmas eve. So, I have no time to figure the gifts out.  This year was no different, but what he doesn't know is, I'm good at reading him.  Earlier that month we'd gone to our favorite antique shop, Gilley's. Both of us fell in love with a pair of milk-glass lamps. Immediately I knew he was going to buy them for me for Christmas.  After 26 years of marriage you acquire a sort of Vulcan mind meld with your husband. I knew without a doubt that was his intention.  

Only this year I decided to play an artful game of gift giving chess.  A game of wit in the fashion of Sherlock Holmes.

I know his Christmas eve routine.  Get out of the house by 10 am, shop until lunch, then eat at Hardee's, because that is the only place our son will agree to eat, then come home and wrap the presents.  Somewhere along the way he'll stop at Gilley's and Kohls. Kohls, because he'll buy me that down comforter, this was an easy guess by the way.  My plan this year, buy the lamps first, but something happened as I held the lamp in my hands.  A wonderful plan emerged.  I would only buy one lamp. This would drive him nuts, who would just purchase one?  They after all, are a set, they've spent their life together.

Now, here is the gamble, another set of lamps were in the store, not as pretty and rusted around the base. But my husband might buy those since they are the only pair. No, I was going for it. I snatched up the one lamp, leaving the other all lone on an oak dry sink. Wait patiently, my little lonely lamp, my husband will be here in an hour or so to buy you... at least that was my hope.  

At home, I wrapped the now solitary lamp, and placed it under the tree.  Sure enough, the kids and my husband poured through the door sometime after three o'clock, and I was ordered to wait in my bedroom while they decorated the packages.  I held my breath in anticipation most of the night.  Would I win at this game of cards or had I just abandoned an antique to live its life forever alone.

"Do you like it?" My husband's words stirred me from my thought. The lamp my husband bought me rested in my lap, and I cradled it in my arms.

I sighed from relief.  I know him too well.

 "I was going to buy the set, but can you believe some idiot bought just one!" His cheeks pulled up from excitement.

"Why who would do such a thing." I smiled to myself, keeping a check on my emotions. The other matching lamp he'd yet to open laid under the tree.

"I almost purchased the other set, but they weren't as nice."

"No, this is the one I wanted.  Thank you."

Now the lamps are reunited, each setting on our night stands a testament to our 26 years of marriage.  Next year, who knows what game I'll play, Moriarty, but I'm sure going to enjoy it!

Music for creating worlds...

Music has a way of opening your brain.

For me, the B-52's, Rock lobster, transports me to a sunny bedroom in Kentucky, it's the early 80's, and I'm a freshman in high school. Suddenly, yellow shag carpet springs up under my feet.  My bed
sits in one corner with a turntable on the floor.  Posters of Shaun Cassidy watch as I dance across the room, cause let's face it, who
couldn't dance to that song.  My brother, a sophomore in college, bought me the album and it was love at first listen. 

We all have music that whisks us away to other times or places and so it is for writers.  Each story has its own soundtrack.  Some worlds are melancholy while others are whimsical.  When creating the world for my book, The Last Stored, I turned on Pandora and found my groove.  So I thought, it would be fun to share the music I used to help get me in that special creative place.  These are in no order whatsoever...

• Life, by Avett Brothers
• Look What You've Done, by Jet
• Morningbird, by Forest Sun
• The One That Got Away, by The Civil Wars
• I do What I Can, by Loney Dear
• Human of The Year, by Regina Spektor
• Down, by Jason Walker
• Gollum's Song, by Howard Shore
  
• Run Daddy Run, by Miranda Lambert
• All The Rowboats, by Regina Spektor
• Trouble Is A Friend, by Lenka
• Head Full Of Doubt, by The Avett Brothers
• Float On, by Modest Mouse
• New Slang, by The Shins
• You Picked Me, by A Fine Frenzy
• Broken, by Lauren Hoffman
• Music For A Found Harmonium, by Penguin Cafe Orchestra
• Untitled 3, by Sigur Ros
• Bright, by Stafraenn Hakon
• Woods Part Of When, by Noe Venable
• Disappear, by The Gabe Dixon Band

Currently I'm writing a speculative fiction novel, and surprisingly, I find that the book suits the B-52s and The Talking Heads, even though it is darker than The Last Stored.  Funny, I didn't plan for that to happen and it doesn't sound like it would fit but it does for me.  

What music makes you more creative? Any strange tune which doesn't seem to fit, but it works for you?  I'd love to hear!    

You can find The Last Stored here:

Amazon

Nook

Smashwords

Anaiah Press

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The Realization of a Dream

I am blessed! For a few years now I've been working on a 'little' book called, THE LAST STORED, and today is it's book birth-day.  

I spoke to a friend this morning, and she asked why I'm so nervous.  I told her it feels like walking into a room of people you don't know stark naked. She asked why?  For a few years I've been cradling this book, watching it become what it is today. I've exposed part of my soul to people I don't know.   BUT enough philosophy, I'm stinking proud of it.  I'm also overwhelmed by the kindness of other's in spreading the word about my book. Words can't express how very thankful I am.  So here it is in all its glory. 

 

Blurb for THE LAST STORED:

After the sudden death of her parents, making it through the day is a struggle for Amber Megan Peel. In the midst of her grief, an exquisite bird perches on her garden fence and shows her visions of a vivid landscape and a dark lord slouching upon a throne.  She thinks the visions are tied to her sorrow. But when a boy flies through her kitchen window to tell her she’s the Last Stored, she wonders if she’s just lost her mind.

Cree of Din is tasked with one job: Bring Amber home. For seven years, Cree has trained as her protector and it is the ultimate responsibility. Failure means Amber’s certain death, and that’s not an option for Cree – especially since he’s falling in love with her.

The Returning has begun. Now all Amber and Cree have to do is enter Tali, a world of unimaginable splendor and equally unimaginable horror, and defeat Lorthis. If they can’t, not only will Tali plunge into darkness, but so will Earth.

Available January 6^th 2015 (That's TODAY)

You can find The Last Stored here:

Amazon

You can connect with me here:

Facebook

Goodreads

Twitter: @soniapoy 

Pinterest

Excerpt:

Cree climbs onto the railing and extends his hand to me. “Your choice, Amber, you can come or you can stay!” he yells over the roar of the water.

“This is nuts. You expect me to jump?”

“Nuts? No, merely the door.” He beams with anticipation. He seems fine. In fact, his eyes sparkle with the moon’s glow.

My heart skips. My choice. I had another choice. I grasp his hand and crawl onto the railing. My feet slip, and I waver. Cree steadies me with his hand. The water falls in torrents in front of me. Am I really about to do this?

“You can’t go back once you enter. Are you ready? You can do this.”

He looks into the raging waters, then back at me. His cloak swirls around him like Superman’s cape.

“Yes, I can do this!” My heartbeat bangs in my throat. I’m about to jump off of Lovers Leap with a boy I don’t know, along with two little old men who have vanished below my feet. This is crazy, but I’m supposed to do it. Part of me knew it every time my mother and father looked over this very railing. I’m at the door.

Cree squeezes my hand, nods, and we jump. He howls. The feeling of dropping over a roller coaster comes on fast. The water rushes by, cold and wet. I fall.

My chest tightens like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. I choke and cough, spitting out water. I see darkness, and I feel Cree’s hand holding mine.

Then, a bright light shimmers and glows at my feet, reflecting upward. The sound of the water fades. My lungs fill with sweet air. The light expands, covering me. Wind swirls and holds me up. I no longer fall, but glide upward. A light from above warms my face, and the aroma of fragrant honey hangs on the air. We twist and turn, Cree’s cloak coils around him, my own clothing flapping in the wind.

I giggle loudly and squeal like a child.

Cree crinkles his face and laughs along. The wind continues pushing us through a tunnel. I lift my free hand and try to feel the mist forming around us; it scatters with my touch, only to form again when I retreat. We have increased our speed. Far above me, Dartlin and Fink’s feet come into focus, and they’re whooping with joy.

Then we stop.

We stand in a brick wading pool a few inches deep. Stone replaces the air, which moments before surrounded me. I take in a deep, fragrant breath.

Cree continues to hold my hand. He looks at our fingers still entwined and laughs. “You can let go.”

A thing called hope...

I've been blog-touring (is that even a word?) for a few days now. It's left me very introspective. I wrote, The Last Stored, to explore a daughter's love for her parents, and the pain of losing a loved one, but it became so much more to me. Books often take on a life of their own don't they.

A dear writing friend asked me what I wanted the reader to get out of my book, and I told her - hope. I want the reader to see hope among its pages, that even after death we can survive.  Life offers hope.  Sometimes we struggle through life stuck in our own routine. Often times we hear that little voice telling us to go for it, but more often we stomp on that voice and keep doing what we are doing.

That is what Amber is like at the beginning of The Last Stored, she knows something is wrong, but she just can't put her finger on what it is. She thinks she is seriously losing it when a Wonderlunk lands on her garden fence.  Then a boy, flies through her kitchen window, YICKES, she must need to be institutionalized. But she begins to make decisions which change the course of her life and saves a world.

Amber was rescued from her dull grief stricken life, and taken to a land of unimaginable beauty. Her life was forever changed.

Our own life can be changed through a single step, by taking a leap. Hope in my savior, Jesus, saved my life, and changed it forever. All because I made a decision to follow Christ. How blessed am I to have this thing called hope, and that is what I wish for my readers - hope in Christ.

May you make a decision like Amber.  Your decision will change your world.

Blurb for THE LAST STORED:

After the sudden death of her parents, making it through the day is a struggle for Amber Megan Peel. In the midst of her grief, an exquisite bird perches on her garden fence and shows her visions of a vivid landscape and a dark lord slouching upon a throne.  She thinks the visions are tied to her sorrow. But when a boy flies through her kitchen window to tell her she’s the Last Stored, she wonders if she’s just lost her mind.

Cree of Din is tasked with one job: Bring Amber home. For seven years, Cree has trained as her protector and it is the ultimate responsibility. Failure means Amber’s certain death, and that’s not an option for Cree – especially since he’s falling in love with her.

The Returning has begun. Now all Amber and Cree have to do is enter Tali, a world of unimaginable splendor and equally unimaginable horror, and defeat Lorthis. If they can’t, not only will Tali plunge into darkness, but so will Earth.

Available January 6^th 2015

You can find The Last Stored here:

Amazon

You can connect with me here:

Facebook

Goodreads

Twitter: @SoniaPoy