Braggin' (not really bloggin')

A Four Star Review for Soliloquy! Just have to share it!

“You’ll be hooked from page one of this mesmerizing tale, which uses a beguiling method of transport to the past. The prose is smooth and satisfying, and the characters come alive. Passion and promise fill the pages, as well as fear and deception.” Donna M. Brown, RT Book Reviews, May 2010

Signing in the Snow!

To be sung to the tune of "Singin' in the Rain!"

I’m just signin’ in the snow
Just signin’ in the snow
What a glorious feeling,
I’m signing my books!
I’m laughing at roads
So slick up ahead,
My pen’s in my hand and I’m ready to sign!
Let the stormy winds fly
Let the ice up and try
Come on with your snow,
I’ve a coat and I’m dry!
I’ll slip down the lane
With a plow up ahead
Just signin’, signin’ in the snow!

Despite snowing during three of the four signing events I just shared with Shannon Baker and Carol Berg, we had such fun! Thanks to everyone who braved the terrible roads and weather to celebrate with us. And if you're humming Singin' in the Rain all day, well, I take full responsibility!

Three Adventures; Three Women; Three Books

Fantasy, thriller, and time-travel romance do have much in common, including three friends who create thrilling adventures, are members of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers and Pikes Peak Writers, and hope to see you at our shared Colorado events!

Feb 17, 2010, 6:30PM, Old Firehouse Books, 232 Walnut Street, Fort Collins
Feb 18, 2010, 7:30PM, Boulder Book Store, 1107 Pearl St., Boulder
Feb 20, 2010, 3:00PM, Who Else! Books, 200 S. Broadway, Denver
Feb 21, 2010, 2:30PM, Black Cat Books, 720 Manitou Avenue, Manitou Springs

Carol Berg is a former software engineer whose hobby of writing fantasy novels has taken her in directions she never expected. Since her first novel Transformation was published in 2000, she has garnered international acclaim for her intelligent stories, complex characters, and lyrical prose. In 2009 her Breath and Bone won the Mythopoeic Fantasy Award for Adult Literature as well as the 2009 Colorado Book Award. Her new book, The Spirit Lens, is a tale of mystery, magic, and murder, and is available in trade paperback, the first of a new three-book series from NAL/Roc Books.

Shannon Baker has a right brain/left brain conflict. While the left brain focuses on her career as an accountant for The Grand Canyon Trust, her right brain concocts thrillers, including her 2010 release, Ashes of the Red Heifer. Earning several contest awards, Ashes of the Red Heifer reveals an ancient prophecy, a terrible secret, and a deadly conspiracy. Shannon’s writing can be found in a number of anthologies, including Leaning into the Wind and Crazy Woman Creek. Her new book will be released by L&L Dreamspell in trade paperback and eformats.


Janet Fogg’s focus on novel-length fiction began while CFO for OZ Architecture, one of the largest architectural firms in Colorado, and in 2008 writing became her full-time vocation. Soliloquy, released by The Wild Rose Press, is a tale of passion; of heroes, hope and the consequences of creating extraordinary music amidst the dark nights of World War II. Janet has received over 15 writing awards including 1st Place awards for Soliloquy from RMFW’s Colorado Gold, Pikes Peak Writers, Authorlink!, and Southwest Writers. Janet is Published Author Liaison for Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers.

Ashes of the Red Heifer

From my friend and fabulous author, Shannon Baker...

Soliloquy

Alone she creates
Extraordinary music
Aching for love
Never found
An irreplaceable gift
Shattered
A perilous wish
Fulfilled
Thrust backward in time
She shields the heroes
In the dark nights of war
Surrendering her heart
Risking her life
For a promise
Remembered through time

Soliloquy by Janet Fogg

Let's Do Launch!

The Secret of the Tree - A Memory of Christmas

While I wrote this for The Sisters of the Quill blog, with Christmas week upon us I thought I would share it here along with this picture of my parents, Louise and Bill Perry....

I have never, ever been a good sleeper. Even when young I slept very lightly and would awaken in the silent, early morning hours, my mind busy with my own version of instant replay. Sometimes I’d tiptoe out of the bedroom I shared with my sister, curl up on the couch with a crocheted throw across my lap, and enjoy a few hours of privacy and quiet. If it was close to Christmas I would turn on the tree lights and that gentle, multi-colored glow illuminated my thoughts.

One night, I was awake but still in bed when I heard a scrape and muffled thud. My sister slept on so I slipped out from beneath the blanket and met my Mom in the hallway. Together, we peeked into the living room. The Christmas tree had tipped over and ornaments now decorated the carpet. So, with my Dad and three brothers and sister still asleep, the two of us quietly pushed the tree straight, tightened the screws that pressed into the tree trunk to hold it upright, and used a couple of dishtowels to sop up the water that had spilled from the stand. The silver angel tree topper, older than I was, tilted drunkenly to one side as she gazed down at our efforts, pulled sideways first by the fall and then by the tangle of her heavy power cord. Once the tree was secure Mom carefully straightened the angel, our cherished tree topper, and I plugged her in to test her blue bulb. The angel smiled down at us, her heart glowing.

That angel is with us still though a hole now pierces her bodice, the heat from the bulb nestled there having melted through the old plastic decades ago. So the angel has retired. Each year she briefly supervises my Sister’s decoration efforts when fragile old ornaments are unwrapped and admired, and tremulous smiles capture our lips as we remember our youth, of our Mother taken from us, too young. The angel’s smile remains as sweet and gentle as my memories demand and it was long ago that she plummeted to the carpet, and long ago that my Mom died. But my tears are as fresh as the day we lost her and the hole in my heart is as real as the angel’s.

And now, with the holiday season upon us, I thought I would share the Secret of the Tree, that long-ago adventure I shared with my Mom. In a few days I’ll visit my darling Sister and we’ll scamper downstairs to unpack the old angel. We’ll hug and weep a little and our love will take wing, flying beyond the top of her Christmas tree into the night sky, as we cherish and share the memory of my Mom’s gentle smile, now the smile of an angel.