You're Reading That?

As I writer, I always have my nose buried in some book - usually a work of literary fiction (my favorite genre). My husband, who is not an avid reader like myself, will often ask me about the book that has so much of my attention. His response is almost always the same: "What's so interesting about that?"

Why, for example, would a thirty-six year-old, healthy woman be reading a story about a fifty-year old who is diagnosed with early onset Alzheimers? Why should I care if some gay guy can talk pretty one day? So what that there's a guy who runs kites (whatever that is) in Afghanistan. Who cares!?

Well, thankfully, a lot of people care. Readers care. Not so much about the topic of the story itself, but about the human condition. We were put on this world to live in community. We crave connections. We were made to have feelings and to regularly express them. When we keep our feelings behind lock and key for too long, they eventually explode out of us in a less-than-appropriate way.

A character in my novel, Forest to Fenix, sums this up when, on her deathbed, she writes to her daughter:

"Now, Kallie, my life is spent—frantic wasted energy burned for the sake of numbness – because being numb seemed a better option to me than being alive with sadness and regret. Denial seemed far better than truth. I realize now that the very thing that motivated me to run is what gives me fullness and peace in this moment today. It is the absolute knowledge that pain is a necessary part of life; that it must be felt and dealt with for any kind of healing to take place. I am only human, Kal, as are you; and the human body can only hold on to so much emotion at any given point in time. Our souls are contained in these tiny earthly bodies and, without release, they will implode."

True, we cannot hold our emotions inside - we all need some kind of outlet. For many, emotional release comes from listening to a piece of music, watching the ballet, or visiting an art gallery. For me, the pages of a book are my freedom. A good book allows me to feel every emotion I am capable of - and it is cleansing and rewarding. A good book - regardless of the plot or storyline, regardless of whether it ends happily or in tragedy - a really good book makes me feel human . . . connected . . . alive.

Snapshots of Life

Today I am feeling poetic and nostalgic. Today is a day for poetry. Here's one of the poems I wrote for a novel I am currently writing.

SNAPSHOTS

My life, a string of snapshots…

Memories of yesterday;

Stills of what I’m feeling now,

And future dreams still far away.

My life’s a picture of unrest

With bouts of pounding rain

And times of calm and peaceful bliss,

And moments of endless pain.

Temporary solitaire,

Loving, hoping if I dare.

A snapshot of the coming fall

Through clouded sky “My love,” I call.

My heart beats still against the wind;

My soul cries out; when will it end?

The rain falls hard upon my skin,

A snapshot of the coming spring;

The promise of life renewed again,

And Beauty glowing like a gem.

The winter brings the breath of death;

The summer stings with heat;

But the fall cools down my silent breath,

And spring brings life so sweet;

It’s all a picture – painted clean,

No more a shattered dream;

Snapshots of a peaceful life,

And promises redeemed…

When Opportunity Knocks - Write!

Have you ever had an idea so illuminating you had to literally pull the car over to write it down? You have if you're a writer. A song comes on the radio or a passenger in the seat next to you makes a random comment and - boom - there it is . . . the answer to your most pressing dilemma.

Okay, so it doesn't always happen that way, but sometimes it does. And all it takes is for you to ignore that urge to stop everything cold and write just one time - and you'll never do it again. It happened to me yesterday on my sixty-minute drive home from the university where I serve as a marketing professor . . .

I am mulling over a particular scene in the novel I am currently editing and the perfect resolution to one of my character's conflicts just appearsin my mind. I know that it's good.

What do I do?

I tell myself to just get home, where I can open my laptop and give the idea justice - give it the proper attention it deserves from the hands of a serious writer. I use the remaining thirty minutes of my drive to elaborate on the brilliant concept.

Here's how the rest of my evening plays out.

I arrive home at 3 p.m., neurons firing and nerves racing in anticipation to finally get this scene right. My heart is pounding as I mentally plan the next hour I will have alone in the house before the kids arrive from school and before I'll have to start dinner. I walk in, drop my bag on the office floor and descend the stairs to the basement where the dogs are yapping crazily.

The high-pitched scream of the smaller dog is so painful I cannot hear myself think. I open crates and the little monsters dart up the stairs to the door where I let them out. They know they must perform before they receive any attention from me, and when they do, they are rewarded with hugs and chewy treats.

Silenced now, the dogs take their usual spot on the oriental carpet that serves as a resting place for my desk. They know I will be working now. (I am always working.) I open my laptop and press the power button, knowing I have at least a minute before it will be ready to receive my thoughts.

The dogs - who look confused although this is what I do almost every day - notice I am passing through the office instead of sitting at the desk. I am quickly making my way toward the bedroom for a change of clothes. If I'm going to write a masterpiece, I need to do so in comfort. They follow at my heels, tails wagging and the little one stealing tiny kisses on my ankles as I stumble to the bedroom.

The phone rings. I answer it. The window treatment guy needs to stop by to remove a shade that needs repaired. Okay, I tell him. I'll be home until six, when I take my daughter to cheer practice. Come by anytime.

I dump my work clothes in the laundry basket, which I notice is full. This bothers me. I carry the basket to the laundry room - passing through the office once more. I notice that the computer is at full attention now, just waiting for my fingers to tap out the brilliant scene. I start a load and, as I pass by the half bath, I realize I really need to use the restroom. First things first.

The dogs are barking again. What now?

The UPS man is at the door, package in hand. I sign, thank him kindly, and set the brown package on top of my desk. I sit to write, but the package is in my peripheral vision and now it's caught my attention. I am curious. I open the package and find two books I have recently purchased. Amazon. I love Amazon. I give the books a quick once-over and set them on the bookshelf beside my desk - third row down, where the books I am determined to read next stand in line expectantly.

I am thirsty. The dull humming of the refrigerator just a few feet away reminds me of this fact. I snap open a can of Diet Mtn Dew and revel in the sensation of the fizzy caffeine coursing through my veins. While in the fridge, I notice that the meat I moved from the freezer last night is not completey thawed, so I remove it and set it on the counter. It should be thawed within an hour, I figure.

Crap. The microwave clock, now right in front of me, says 3:55 p.m. How is that possible? I'll have to thaw the meat with a little extra help. Just as I place the package in the microwave and push the start button, the damn dogs are yapping again. I hear the "beep-beep" sound of the bus backing up and within seconds, the kids are barreling through the door.

"I'm hungry, Mom."

"I need you to sign my test, Mom."

"Can you help me with my homework, Mom?"

I look toward the office where my laptop is no longer anxiously awaiting. Instead, it has gone to sleep and the screensaver is rolling some beauty shots of the campus at which I work. My head starts pounding.

The next hour is a whirlwind of kids and dogs and homework and cooking. At 5:15 p.m. my husband arrives home and we sit down to eat as a family. It is a quick dinner. I've got to put on some workout clothes so I can get in some Yoga while my daughter practices cheerleading for three hours.

We are in the car by 5:40 p.m. and at the gym by 6 p.m. - right on time. I cross the street to my gym and sweat for a good forty-five minutes. My headache is gone and I feel somewhat rejuvenated. I have two hours now to sit at my daughter's gym. I plan to bring in my trusty laptop and finally transfer that brilliant idea to virtual paper.

When I arrive and sit in the viewing room, there are several other parents there. I make polite conversation and we watch the practice for awhile, trying to determine if the girls will be ready for the first competition, just a little over a month away. My daughter is learning a new trick. She's small so she's a flyer (she is thrown into the air and then, please God, is caught by the ones who threw her). I am nervous so I watch for awhile to be sure I trust her bases. They appear to be a pretty strong stunt team.

I have one hour.

"Who needs to order shoes?" The question comes from the team "mom" who can get us a discount if we order in bulk. I need to order new shoes for the upcoming competition season because my daughter's are worn. I search my purse for the checkbook and take care of placing the order. I check my daughter's folder while I pay and read through the most current updates. There's a sleepover next Friday. Twenty dollars. We need to order make-up and bows. Fifty dollars.

It is almost 9 p.m. It is time to go. My laptop is not even in sleep mode now. I hadn't plugged it in and the battery is completely dead. I pack it up and collect my daughter and we are home by 9:15 p.m. My son and husband are watching TV - it's the first NFL game of the season. Fantastic. I peel off my sweat-soaked clothes and take a quick shower. I dry my hair. I correct my son's homework (my husband tried, but math is not his thing). I am tired.

It is 10:30 p.m. and all I want to do is sleep. The nerves are no longer racing. The only thing I anticipate is the comfort of my bed and soft pillow. I turn on my computer. Check my e-mail. Respond to the most time-sensitive inquiries. I open the document containing my most prized possession - my novel. I scroll to the scene I need to complete.

Fingers poised above the keypad, I realize with horrow that my mind is blank. What was that great idea I had? Shaking my head, I close my laptop and pack it for tomorrow. I cannot for the life of me remember what had inspired me so vividly just hours ago.

***

Have you ever had an idea so illuminating you had to literally pull the car over to write it down? All it takes is for you to ignore that urge to stop everything cold and write just one time - and you'll never do it again. Pull the car over, my writer friends. Pull over and write. It's what you were born to do.

Things Left Unsaid

One thing I love about writing is that it gives me the opportunity to say the things I am too much of a coward to say in real life. It is an outlet not accessed by many. Fyodor Dostoevsky (Russian novelist in the 1800's most known for the classic Crime and Punishment, though my favorite is The Brothers Karamozov) captured my thought in this brilliant quote:

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.”

So true. Though the word, once spoken, can never be retrieved, the word, never uttered, can never be resolved. Bewilderment may cause some dis-ease, but it is far better to walk about in mystified confusion than to walk about empty - hollow.

Resolution is a basic human need. We have an innate pyschological drive for closure. It is so strong, in fact, that an individual presented with an incomplete image of some type will instinctively "fill in" the picture in their minds so that it does not appear unfinished. A writer too close to his work may in fact "see" words that are accidentally omitted because his mind completes the sentence or fills in the missing word.

We seek it - closure. We crave it. We must have it. Without it, we are lost. We finish others' sentences when they don't finish them quickly enough to satisfy our need for closure. When we enter a conversation near the end of the story, we ask the storyteller to start over so we can get the whole picture.

Try starting a task or stating half of a thought and then try not to complete it. You will go mad waiting for the other shoe to drop, or you will give in. (The latter usually prevails.) The cliffhanger to the series finale of a favorite show, or waiting for the third book in a trilogy to finally be released is an adrenaline rush, but we can only wait for so long.

Unhappiness comes from the word unspoken, the thought unfinished, the truth left unsaid. I love writing because the truth always finds its way onto the paper and I gain much-needed closure . . . that sense of peace that I can now move forward. It is cathartic. It is healing. It is another gift meant for the hands of a writer.

The Business of Writing - Writing with the Reader in Mind

Here's what's on my mind today - the business of writing. It is a well-known fact that anything involving the exchange of money from a buyer to a seller is considered a business transaction. And though some authors insist that they only write for the pure passion and joy it brings, the majority (if not all) hope to someday see their words in print - and collect royalties for book sales.There's nothing wrong with this, of course, but it brings home the point that authors cannot just "write to write".

In his 1891 essay "The Soul of Man Under Socialism", Oscar Wilde wrote:

"A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its beauty comes from the fact that the author is what he is. It has nothing to do with the fact that other people want what they want. Indeed, the moment that an artist takes notice of what other people want, and tries to supply the demand, he ceases to be an artist, and becomes a dull or an amusing craftsman, an honest or dishonest tradesman. He has no further claim to be considered as an artist."

Now, I agree whole-heartedly with Oscar Wilde and find his point of view to be quite poetic - up until sentence number three; that's when he loses me. History has shown us that "art for art's sake" does not a fortune make. Indeed, if Mr. Wilde were alive today, I might do well to hold myself back from asking Dr. Phil's one-size-fits-all question, "How's that working for you, Oscar?"
 
In today's book market (and any industry, for that matter), an artist (author, painter, sculptor, singer, what have you) cannot "create" in his own interest alone. He must take notice of what others want and he must write with his reader in mind.
 
Now, Wilde would insist that, once an author writes to satisfy an audience, he is no longer an artist but an economist and a businessman. I can think of many a current author who would argue vehemently this point of view. In fact, I myself would suggest that the author who can both tell a beautiful and engaging story and satisfy the needs and wants of a particular market in a way no other author currently can - well, that person is more of an artist than the one who merely spills out words on paper and tries to convince a market that it is worthwhile literature.
 
On Tuesday, August 11, 2009, Nathan Bransford, a well-known literary agent, wrote on his blog, "The authors who engage their audience and inspire devoted clans of fans have a leg up over those who sit back and let the publisher take care of that whole promotional thing or who hope lightning will strike on its own. There's no such thing as "just an author" anymore, and I suspect there never was."(http://blog.nathanbransford.com/2009/08/myth-of-just-author.html)

I must ask for a loud and boisterous "Amen!"

Here's the deal as I see it. Successful companies spend millions of dollars every year to try to understand their target market - their primary customer base. They work hard to deliver "value" in some tangible way. Leading companies measure their success not only by the bottom line, but by the amount of value they are able to create for the consumer and how quickly they are able to improve upon said value. They expect their employees - all of them - to understand the customers' expectations, to develop real and long-term relationships with them and to dazzle them with new ideas.

Though authors (at least most authors) do not have employees, they do have a very specific audience with very distinct needs and wants. It is not nearly enough to simply write a good book and put it out there for the taking. Book readers want to be dazzled. Book readers crave the relationship that every other "business" entity is trying to develop with them - only on a much more personal level.

Banks call customers "Bill" and "Sandy" instead of "Account number 52671." Auto manufacturers send personalized e-mail messages, birthday cards and anniversary wishes. Software companies follow consumer purchases and display their "pop-ups" at the precise time a consumer needs to renew or upgrade service. You get the idea...

With the advent of social media (Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, blogs...), anyone with a computer and Internet service can connect on a personal level with anyone else in cyberspace. The more deeply an author can connect with his readers - by letting them into his personal life - the more invested those readers will be in that author's work. The author, if he pays attention, can thus "live with" his audience and understand them on a level that will help him fulfill needs in a meaningful, relevant way.

Just as smart businesses make every effort to gain customer feedback (via research and surveys and customer service departments), authors should do the same. What did your readers love about your last book? What confused them? What are they hungry for? Do they want more of a particular character? Are they ready to move on? This kind of feedback is invaluable to the author as well as the reader. And it's the "value" that is created that will keep a reader coming back for more.

Ours, no doubt, is a loud and cluttered environment. Consumers are bombarded with thousands of messages a day. They are overwhelmed, yet everyone - the consumer included - wants to have a voice amongst the chaos. The author who is blessed with the hands of a writer has a unique opportunity to be heard.

What happens when that author becomes the advocate of his readers? He gives his readers a voice as well! Today's authors will do themselves a service to understand the basics of business and marketing and to apply those general principles to their writing. When art meets business - cue sound effects of Wilde turning in his grave - everyone wins. The author has a reader, the agent has a client, the publisher has a book to sell, and the reader has a satiated appetite - at least for now.

Illusion of Control

A lot of writers I know consider themselves control freaks. I admit that I am one. The idea is a bit paradoxical, though.

What writer has ever been in control while anxiously awaiting the response (rejection?) of the thirty-fourth literary agent this month? Who feels in complete control when the finally-signed-you-and-agreed-to-sell-your-book agent is shopping said book around to publishers previously unreachable to you? And what author has full control over how well the book - having finally made its way to market - will capture the attention of the ever-increasingly prudent buyer?

And the emotional roller-coaster of the industry itself? I, for one, have never felt more emotionally out of control anywhere else. The sigh of relief when the editing is done is drowned by the agony of the realization that there is no such thing. The overwhelming joy that fills the soul when a reputable agent finally requests a full (manuscript) is crushed by the painful defeat of its subsequent rejection.

When the well of emotions seems to run dry, and the author gets his first real break and lives to see his book on the shelves of the best retail stores, an entirely new mental state arrives and with it, a whole new loss of control. David Sedaris wrote, "Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it."

The writer, now with a following, learns quickly that his readers will form their own conclusions. The author can only guide his reader so far. At some point, the book takes on its own meaning as each reader brings his unique life story into the pages he reads.

As much as we writers think we control our own destiny - or at least our own writing - we are mistaken. Writing is the illusion of control and the sooner we embrace the illusion, the sooner we can surrender to it. What fascinating stories we might weave inside the expectation that they will take on a life of their own!

In Character

There is an insanely overwhelming number of things to consider when attempting to write a story. Character happens to be one of them. In fact, many agents and publishers will tell an author that character development is one of the most critical elements of a novel. Why do you suppose that is?

Character is what makes us human - that's why. Character is what makes us uniquely alive. It is what draws us to one another and sparks the curiosity that leads to deep and meaningful relationships. A person's character is what makes him interesting and worthwhile. Character builds community.

What do you suppose most of us remember about the novels we read last summer, or last month, for that matter? I know...nothing, right! Most of us forget more of a book's content than we remember (especially the content of text books - trust me, as a professor, I know) and when we do manage to commit something to our long-term memory about a particular book, it's usually that we read it. We might remember if we liked the book. We almost always remember if we hated it. If we recall anything else at all, it's usually something about the book's character(s).

People - at least the majority of people - are memorable. The ones who live in between a front and back cover had damned well be very memorable. So, there we have it: Character development is critical to storytelling. This idea fascinates me because character development is critical to us as human beings as well.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best when he wrote, "What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matter compared to what lies within us."

(A blog or two ago, I talked about experience and how it makes us who we are, so I cannot very well contradict myself completely today and agree with Mr. Emerson, can I? Of course I can, I'm a writer! If I tried hard enough and used just the right words, I could convince you I believe the world is flat - which, by the way, I do . . . but that's a blog for another day).

This challenge of developing characters who are complex, deep and honest is tough, especially when they also need to be likable - or at least relatable. Characters have to be believable, too, or nobody will want to get to know them. If a reader doesn't want to get to know a book's characters, guess what? He's not a reader for very long.

As a novelist, the character development trial is one of my favorite challenges because it is the only one that a writer does not take on alone. The quest to develop character belongs to us all - writers and non-writers alike. Every single day we are challenged with the task of cultivating ourselves. We make regular decisions about how much of our character we are willing to expose to the world - how much light we will allow to shine upon the truth that lives so freely inside of us.

Though it is true that experience makes us who we are, our character can only develop when we allow the world to see - one tiny glimpse at a time - that which lies within us. Though we might cower from the risk of exposing too much of our own character, writers can often let people into the deepest tunnels of what lies within us through the written word. We show it rather than tell it - an industry secret.

As novelists, we tend to show ourselves through the words we choose, the character traits we develop and the stories we share. We scatter our own selves throughout the many "lives" we create. It is a gift, really, this challenge of character development, because, to do it well is to do life well. Indeed, it is not about what is all around us. It - life - is about what is deep within us.

From a Writer's Perspective

Now that I've made it public knowledge that I love to write (yes, it used to be my dirty little secret!), I get this question at least once a day: "Why do you write?" It's a loaded question, and I pity the fool who asks it of me. In all seriousness, though, it is truly a deep question that cannot be answered in passing. I'm nearly certain it is a question to which the answer can only be understood by other writers, but I'm going to attempt to answer it anyway . . . er, I mean, I'm going to attempt to let one of the world's most famous authors answer it for me.

If you're reading this blog (or any blog about writing), it is a certainty that you have, at some point in time, read Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. If not, I strongly recommend you drop all of your other "to read" lists and get to it. If indeed you have read this fantastic classic of modern American literature...

The quote is by the book's character, Atticus (a widowed father), who says,

"I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."

So, my answer, borrowed from Atticus, is that I (and other authors, I presume) write because it is the most courageous thing I know how to do. I write because it is a testimony to the masses that we must try, against all odds, to see that which gives us passion through to the bitter end.

Writing (at least publishing) is a losing battle - most of the time. To write a work of art that others find worth reading is a rare win - but it is not an impossible task. As a writer, I know I am "licked" before I begin, but I "begin anyway" and I "see it through no matter what." Why? Because I have to. There is a force much stronger than myself that pushes me to write and to fight the battle to finish. There is something so tempting about the possibility of "sometimes" winning that it is more painful to not write than to write.

Why do I write? Why does anyone follow their passion when they know that winning is a long shot? Why? Because I have courage, darn it! I write because it is the most courageous thing I know how to do...

Experience is what makes us. . .

Hidden beneath the thin skin walls of every soul are the experiences that shape and mold us. This is a truth that cannot be argued. We are who we are because of what we have lived through - the good, the bad and most definitely the certifiable. The trouble is, people are rarely walking billboards of truth. It takes months - even years - to really get to know a person beyond skin-deep. Sometimes it's even hard to get to know our own selves intimately. That's why I so enjoy writing.

Read an original piece of work and you will get a rare glimpse into the raw and unlittered soul of the writer. It is impossible not to. When a writer lays words to paper, he is spewing forth a tiny part of his very being. No matter the subject of the written piece, I challenge any author out there to leave himself behind when he writes. I don't believe it can be done . . . and that is why I love it so. It forces me to rein myself back in. Writing brings me back to the very core of who God made me to be. In life, it is easy to play a role - to act a certain part. There is something both humbling and pacifying about baring one's soul through the gift of language.

The Best Advice

There was a time in my life - a few years back - when I was immensely frustrated because I could not discern what I was supposed to be doing to fulfill my role in this world and I couldn't figure out why I never felt completely happy - content. A wise friend pointed me to a little book written in the 1800's by Rainer Maria Rilke. The book was called Letters to a Young Poet, and was published on July 16, 1903 when the author was just 27 years old. To this day, I cannot fathom having had this kind of insight when I was 27. My favorite passage from the book, which was Rilke's advice to a wannabe poet, is as follows:

“I would like to beg you to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps, then, someday far into the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

I like this so much that I've included it in my first book, Forest to Fenix. I also read it to my students. Best of all, I try to live up to this wise counsel every day. How true is it that we are in such a hurry to figure things out that we forget to even ponder the questions to which we are so desperately seeking answers? Love the questions? What a concept. Acknowledge that things happen the way they are supposed to happen and in their own time. Realize that the answers come when we are ready for them, not when we want them...because we always want them.

Had I known 10 years ago that I would find a sense of peace and purpose as a college professor and a novelist, it would have been too soon for me to do anything about it. I realize now that it was the events in my life that left me most confused - most lost - that led me to where I am today. To have had the answers then would have been meaningless and I would not have been able to live them. Instead, I would have likely "course-corrected" and never found the path that was meant for me. At best, I would have hit a detour that would have led me to God knows where.

So, here is my advice and my plea: live the questions today. Trust that you will be one step closer to living yourself right into the answers you have always been too afraid to dream for yourself. Have faith. Have patience. Just live.

Any questions?

Lola T. Parker - Hands of a Writer

"I pray for the hands of a writer." They are words I read so many years ago, written by Richard J. Foster, author of Celebration of Discipline. When I read it, something changed in me...something that was as much as a calling as it was a confirmation. I must write. I knew then that the gift I had been given was exactly that: the hands of a writer. It's a gift no better than any other - no more significant - but it's mine and I am grateful.

Foster started his book, as so many authors do, with acknowledgments. In that section he wrote:

"I am struck profoundly by the weakness of words...and yet I am struck even more profoundly by the fact that God can take something so inadequate, so imperfect, so foolish as words on paper and use them to transform lives."

Can I get an Amen?! Words do transform lives. They can harm and they can heal. They can cause one to feel deeply and they can grant a much-needed escape from the world. Words can sting, and words can soothe. They are, in fact, only words...but when they are strung together into meaningful messages by the hands of a writer, they are enough to change the world...

Why I Started This Blog

The Fenix Series is a new trilogy of books I am writing which will hopefully soon be available at your favorite book stores. Forest to Fenix is the first in a series of family saga novels with strong romantic elements. The second book in the Fenix Series, Fenix from the Ashes, picks up where the first leaves off, satiating the reader’s thirst for Kallie’s happily-ever-after; and a third, titled Fenix Rising, is a youthful adventure that explores the sexy world of art and fashion and chronicles young Nevon’s transformation from a passion-seeking player to a hopeless romantic.

The books are called the Fenix Series because Kallie’s last name (after she marries) is Fenix, an alternative Greek spelling for phoenix, a mythical bird with a tail of gold and red that represents fire and divinity. Near the end of its long life, the phoenix builds a nest of cinnamon twigs and sets aflame both the nest and itself. They burn together ferociously until nothing is left but ash, from which a new phoenix arises, reborn. Myth has it that the bird regenerates when hurt or deeply wounded, giving it near immortality. It is also believed to be able to heal a person with a tear from its eyes and protect them from death. Each book in the Fenix series has relevance to this myth, as its characters continually transform and survive and begin life anew.

I'll add information about FOREST TO FENIX on this blog on a regular basis - plus just some of my thoughts as an author. Stay tuned...and welcome!