Big whoop, right? For me it is, when I seem to move at a slower pace than the rest of the world. For a long time, I heard Instagram is where it’s at, whatever “it” means (still processing)—but I did finally catch up in this social media race. Give me space to tiptoe on my own and I’ll eventually get there (said the tortoise to the hare).
Instagram. You can follow me there, here:
About an hour from where I live, carved within the earth’s oldest mountain chain is a caving system consisting of one of the largest caverns in the eastern United States. Within Tuckaleechee Caverns is the most sensitive seismic station detecting earthquakes, as well. There are so many incredible things about this experience. I happen to live in a region boasting of caves to explore! Since I’m fascinated with caves and had family visiting, you guessed it, we went caving.
We also road the Lookout Mountain’s Incline Railway with a 72.7% grade, one of the world’s steepest passenger railways, a mile long, and also about an hour from where I live (lucky me). But because I’m afraid of heights and needed both hands to hang onto something/anything solid, I didn’t snap any photos. Fortunately, I got into conversation with several vacationing Brits, which distracted me from the dizzying open air and potential fall from the heights to my death. Give me tight, dark spaces to wiggle through in the bowels of the earth any day. But put me on top of the mountains and I turn to jelly. The Brits have no idea, but they saved my life. :D
Some members of my family are quite shy, so no photos shared here. My cool son who is my very own minor had little to say in the matter, so there he is, living large in the cavern.
We capped the week off by motorcycling. Between the humidity, dampness of that particular cavern (ceiling drips, waterfalls, pools and streams), and helmet head, my hair fell very flat. Don’t judge me. :P
Because caves take my breath away, they have made appearances in several of my novels. In fact, my latest thriller takes place exclusively in the subterranean world. Time for a shameless plug for REMNANT:
“Today I thought I’d cave dive, instead opened the world to the dead. Now I’m where I do not belong and don’t know how to get back.”
#Giants #Nephilim #Underworld
The Unseen Anthology has released and is now available at your favorite bookstore. Twelve short stories of the speculative fiction genre by twelve authors, focus on encounters with the Unseen: God, angels, demons, spirits, the supernatural, and more.
View the official book trailer:
For those who don’t yet know, my contribution for this volume is an individual in-the-shadows glimpse at suicide in Suspension, The Troubled Life of Ralph Specht. Within enters “Specter,” the famous frontman for the rock band, Ghosts of Fleas. In the eyes of the world he led a good existence, talented, successful, and spoiled. Nobody thought he could do such a thing, fling himself over the edge of the bridge, even him. Not until the dark impulse. His verdict awaits.
My story is but one of a dozen very diverse, original, fictive accounts by intriguing authors I’ve had the privilege of joining in this project.
The Unseen Anthology. Pick up your copy, digital or paperback, via one of the convenience buttons below.
Look for it soon at Barnes & Noble, as well.
For the first time, I’d experienced a debilitating writer’s block. Part of the problem was that I had too many things going at once. Spread in different directions, digging into numerous genres and projects, I was suddenly staring at the computer, numb, with no flow, zero movement. It’s as if I’d lost focus and motivation.
Meanwhile, several acquaintances asked what my current work in progress was, so I shared about my writing block dilemma. A good friend put a question to me bluntly, said, "In terms of writing, Tessa, if you died today, what would you want to be remembered for?" And just like that I gave him my answer. He said, "Then stop wasting time and get to work."
That verbal smack in the face was exactly what I needed (thank you very much). A reminder, a single push sharpened my focus, renewed clarity of purpose and aim when time is valuable.
This honing perspective proves a good application if you’re struggling with any vocational motivation, really. Use it as a kick-start. If you died today, what would you want to be remembered for?
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters…”—Colossians 3:23
Wouldn’t it be neat whenever we sense a need for renovation to do a flip? I’m not speaking in terms of real estate. Sometimes I think I’d like to trade any bad, static experiences in life for good, seeking a fresh perspective. A few words sweep into my mind for how to get there. “…be transformed by the renewing of your mind,” (Romans 12:2) and, “…in all things God works for the good of those who love him,” (Romans 8:28). The motivation of flipping negatives for positives rather than flipping out holds a more promising outcome, for sure. On the other hand, the ability to appreciate the good things is oft times amplified by having encountered the bad. Yin and yang, as many would say. #iamonlyhuman
I love it when a story grips, giving a lasting effect, don’t you? I’ve just finished reading, The Blood Gospel, another influential book added to my personal favorites list. The plot is heavy yet thrilling with a clever tie-in of history to fiction. Archeology, religion, prophecy, legend, mystery, symbolism, and good versus evil – I thoroughly enjoyed this loaded book. It was a thought-provoking trip from realism to paranormal, and an adventure from Israel to Rome, to Germany, Russia, and back. I’d also found the dark yet noble Hungarian Sanguinist priest, Rhun Korza, undeniably appealing. I’m going to have to read the next in the series and have already ordered a copy.
Next, Strindberg’s Star, I’d read last year – and I still think about the novel. There is something within it haunting me. I’ve never read a more peculiar yet intriguing book that I seemed to understand completely. The author, Jan Wallentin, wrote in a postscript, “In the few places where the novel diverges from reality, it’s the reality that ought to change.” This novel was so entirely engrossing I didn’t always know which was which, reality or fantasy, nor did I care. That’s a great book!
Happy reading of your favorites; May you discover many more books to add to your personal list – maybe even one of mine.
The Unspeakable (Puma) is now in its second edition, a version with the same storyline but repackaged. Newly categorized under Christian Suspense, and International Mystery & Crime, if you have not yet read this book I invite you to do so – though it might keep you up at night.
When bad things happen to good people, what then?
When a furtive conflict is pitted between violent leftist guerrillas and a rightwing paramilitary group in Colombia, a North American woman mistakenly gets caught in the middle.
“I spent four months, one week and two days in a clandestine prison referred to as The Water Cave. Every day I stared hell in the face, and each day I wanted to die. I don’t want to share too much too quickly. To understand fully, you must join hands with me, fasten your heart to mine, and course through my book. Stumble over the incomprehensible human rights journey with me. I've pondered it to the brink of questionable sanity, and it's the only way to explain. I suppose I should consider myself lucky I survived at all—for many did not—yet, perplexingly so, that’s not the premise of this narrative.
He altered my life, marked me forever.
But it’s not how you might imagine.
This is a story involving Horacio Botello, my torturer known as Puma.”
Once, during my early balletic days, a director appointed me to a challenging role, instructing me to dance, said, “With attitude, Darling.” What he meant – what I learned – was to dance with complete heart, sense, and purpose; to abandon myself in that role. Since flamenco is such an individualistic art form, yet this particular discipline is still fairly new to me, I often hear those words of early advice trickle up from the deep recesses of my memory. I’m finding my voice, so to speak, my stylistic language within the flamenco context: to mean what I say. What I’ve added to my Bucket List, however, and what I yearn to do, is express flamenco in a worshipful/liturgical/Christian piece and venue. I believe in possibilities and have a vision for that day. In the meantime, here are a few pictures of my continuing, enriching education toward a flamenco dream.
Full of allegories and metaphorical images, the Bible confers the Holy Spirit as a gentleman. I tend to think of him as such.
He might, at some point in our lives, implement something. I’m not saying he can’t. God is God. But for some reason, I see him more like somebody who waits quietly at the door, eager for the person on the other side to open. He may tap, but if that person doesn't want to open the door then he is respectfully silent, unconditionally loving, hopeful one day that individual will want him, and graciously waits to be invited before he draws near.
I adore this perceived aspect of the Holy Spirit and believe it’s a good model for many areas of life, the ins and outs, interactions, relationships, and career paths. Well mannered and considerate…a perfect gentleman.
Branding remains an enigma for me as a genre-blended writer. I find it sticky to pinpoint author taglines, even after clarifying discussions. The topic has even entered my dreams. In one someone asked, “What kind of writer are you?” Working my jaw as if chewing a cud, I answered, “Mooooo” which transitioned into “nooooo!”
Even if I settle, the market today is such a crapshoot (marketing gurus may cringe) that something which works today might not tomorrow.
Creativity is like wind, unpredictable. A writer is like a wild mustang… You know it’s a horse (author). You can expect certain characteristics such as neighing, rearing, and tossing its mane (message, although variable). What you don’t know is where it’ll go (what he/she will do next) and how (medium)—while stirred by the wind.
Leo Tolstoy said, “If you want to be happy, be.” On that note, if you want to write, write. Perhaps a perfect depiction will come in the process. If not, maybe versatile and free will come to the minds of observers.