New Website

I'm really excited to announce my new website.

GnarledRoots.com is up and running.

New content will be added in the coming days, but here is where you come in. Don't worry, I'll still be blogging right here, every few days. Notice the link that will take you over to the website with one click. After poking around over there, you can click right back over here, when you're ready. 

Setting up an website is intense. It's a lot easier than it used to be, but certainly not something most people do. I have decided to open Gnarled Roots to your creativity. With some moderation, but an open heart, I'll consider all submissions. So do you have a really cool photo, drawing, or a gut jiggling joke. Maybe, like me,  you would like to try your hand at writing.

Come on, stick your toe in this big, warm pond. 

A few heartbeats remain ...

I'm hearing really nice things, people love this story, and my characters practically walk off the page and into your heart.

 

The fun part for me? When I ask a reader, who is your favorite character? The answers are really revealing. There truly is something for everyone in this book, but why do I think that? Let me put it simply.

 

At some point in everyone's life, maybe even right now, we all experienced a hurtful word, an ugly snubbing, or an irrational bully. Everyone: from the coolest jock to the nerdiest young scientist; Blue on the Horizon speaks to that hurt, and in the end proves that to be weird, can be a wonderful thing.

Did you sleep through the weekend?
You can still be one of the growing village of troll fans.

• Amazon UK
• Amazon Germany
• Amazon US
• Amazon Canada
• Amazon France
• Amazon Spain
• Amazon Japan
• Amazon Italy
• Amazon India
• Amazon.com.br

It really is a worldwide phenomenon







 

I was invited ...

True to my bargain, I alternate the route
The evenings trail, partially hidden by brush,
Grapevine, and wild rose strangle off my passage,
But what are a few thorns ripping at my flesh; I was invited …

Under the willows, the dying sun gives way to the shade,
Gnats encircle my hot body, shrouding me in screaming roars
Turn back, there is nothing here for you, human
But what are the tiny shouts of angry bits of bug; I was invited …

Out into the dusk, the trail melts away           
Lost along the river, a shiver of panic attacks
Over here, Rebecca, we're just getting started
Never in danger, the trolls lead me to safety; I was invited …

Seated quietly on the muddy bank, the light, golden and fresh
First, a swoop then a buzz, the extraordinary show has begun
Blurry wings dart along the banks, scooping up mosquito and gnat
A nymph stands no chance against the dragonfly ballet; I was invited.

Green, it's everywhere

Several years ago, I was lucky enough to visit Ireland in May. Anyone interested in the emerald isle has heard the boast about the 40 shades of green. I remember thinking that twaddle, but I also remember clearly seeing all 40 shades for myself. It was stunning, and I'll never forget it.

This is not my photo, but it is very much like I remember Ireland.

South Central Wisconsin had a horrible winter. It was long, bitterly cold, and refused to let us go. Even today, on the second of June, I was wearing a sweatshirt as I walked along the river. That is NOT normal, but I didn't care, I had my camera.

Having been so cold, many wildflowers are waiting to pop, but some have magically appeared from the cold wet soil.

 

 

 

 

But flowers are fleeting. The explode on the scene and steal all the attention, but the leaves endure.

 

 

 

 

So stop to smell the roses, but spare a heartbeat for the trees, bushes, and grasses. They will remain all season long.
 
Get the point?

 

Toadstools

It has been raining in southern Wisconsin—a lot. Two days ago, Oton appeared in my backyard, and invited me to the first toadstool festival of the season. It sounded harmless enough so I grabbed a light jacket, tied the laces on my hiking boots, and followed him to Elvsmyr. Toadstool, mushroom, and fungus of all shapes and colors were indeed blooming from every surface.

Elvsmyr was vibrating with excitement as I strolled to the cooking fire where everyone was gathered. There was much laughing and singing of silly songs while the cooks put the final touches on the feast. I was doing fine until Venn started telling me about his favorite dish, mashed maggots.

“You see, it’s the first maggots of the season that whip up into the best lump free mash,” he explained.

I nearly lost the contents of my stomach at that point. Just then, Smekk walked past with a sloshing pitcher of grog. I have avoided the grog up to this point. Now, I’m not afraid to try any human drink, but one can never really tell what might be involved in troll liquor. “Smekk, I’d like to try some tonight.”

“Sure,” she said, stumbling over a stone, the grog vacating the pitcher in waves while she regained her balance. She handed me a metal mug and poured a generous portion of brown liquid.

I sniffed the cup, and to my surprise, it wasn’t bad at all. Venn had moved on to a description of the main course. Something about possum … I stopped listening and took a big slug of grog. To my surprise, it was good, really good. “Is this honey based?”

“You could say that,” Smekk said. “But that’s not the secret ingredient.”

Uh-oh. “What the secret ingredient?”

“Well, if I tell you, it won’t be a secret.” With that, she flicked her skirts around and strutted away. Other cups eagerly awaited her arrival.

It gets fuzzy after that. I remember trying the sizzled worms, and likely the possum, but it was the grog that sticks to my memory cells. I swear it was a bottomless cup. I never say Smekk refill it, but thinking back, I didn’t see much of Oton either. I’m pretty sure he was cloaked in invisibility and topping it off. When I woke up, I was lying in a puddle, the trollkin were staring down at me, and it was still dark. “Will the sun be rising soon?”

“Not really, Mor just won the battle for the sky a little while ago.”

This didn’t make any sense. I didn’t even arrive until well after sunset. “How long was I asleep?”

“Two moon passes.”

“What is in that grog?” I asked holding my spinning head.

“It was a toadstool festival. What do you think was in it?”

Feeling glad to be alive, I shoved myself to my feet, and staggered out of Elvsmyr.

“We don’t always add the toadstool, but I did warn you it was a toadstool festival,” Oton yelled as I retreated to my own bed.

Where do these stories come from?

I hesitate to reveal myself as prehistoric, but I am prepared to say that I remember life before personal computers. The computer was some fictional handheld device on Star Trek reruns: cool, but totally sci-fi.

 I grew up in a rural setting, but my family didn’t farm. These days, there is nothing unusual about that, but for the time and place, it was … different. I am the youngest of four and the only girl. Let us just say that a child of today might be stymied by the limited access to electronic entertainment. We received, via a rooftop antenna, precisely four television channels. Nobody had to tell me to go outside and play. Even in the deep snows of a Wisconsin winter, I was outside with only my imagination to keep me company.

My brothers would be off doing their own thing, while I would start walking. We had 90 some acres—half pasture, half cropland—rented out to a neighbor. It didn’t matter how others had harnessed the land; it was my personal playground.

In warmer months, the redwing blackbirds were my friends and the gnats made sure I stayed aware. I knew the location of every rabbit warren and wasp nest, every hole to twist my ankle and stone to stub my toe.  I would lie on my back, chewing on the tender tips of prairie grasses and listen to the world around me. The birds, the bugs, the swaying plants, and the ever-present wind created a transportation device. I was free, alone with my thoughts, and unafraid to dream.

That is what’s missing in many cases. Quiet time, down time, call it what you want, but without it, we all suffer. How can you hear your own voice when it's drowned out by chaos, controlled though it may be? It doesn’t really matter where you are. Try it sometime. Politely decline that invitation, turn off the television, the computer, and your phone. Tell your family you need to run an errand, and hide—maybe in your own yard, or a nearby park. Force yourself to be still. At first,  minute will feel like an hour, but if you persist, an hour will feel like a heartbeat, and then your imagination will be free to go anywhere it pleases.

Everyone has secrets ...

It's here, It's here!

Announcing the release of Blue on the Horizon as a an e-book on Amazon.com. A printed version will soon follow, but it you're an e-book lover, surf on over to this link to take a look inside the book. It can be yours for just $1.99 in North America, and similar pricing around the globe.

Click here to find the book, available now in Amazon

Even if you would rather wait for the printed version, go on over to check out the first few pages. I'll post the release date of the printed version in the next few moons.

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If you have enjoyed my blog, you are sure to gobble up the book. You will meet dozens of new trolls, and really get to know Leaf, Uredd and all the other personalities who inhabit the village along the river.

Everyone has secrets ...
The first in the Legends of the Aurora series, Blue on the Horizon reveals the truth about trolls. Far from brutish, most trolls are intelligent, humorous, and honorable. But there are others who are have less noble intentions.

Gaven was a happy trollkin—until that night at the learning circle. How could she have known her world was about to change? There would be no lessons, no friends—no acceptance. Instead, she becomes the target of relentless bullies, and that is only the beginning.

Desperate for friendship, she is lured down a dangerous path by someone with an unnatural interest in her survival. Just as she finds her place, her father reveals the truth about her … disfigurement. Disgusted, she resolves to leave, to shelter where hurtful taunts can not find her, but instead, the Fates intervene and she is caught up in a adventure she never wanted.

However, she will not be alone for long. Aided by two unlikely friends she undertakes an incredible journey, one which will reveal the truth.

You’ll laugh— and yes—cry along with Gaven as her story unfolds. Readers of all ages will enjoy this inventive tale all the way through to the stunning conclusion that will leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about trolls.