Wednesday, January 8, 2014

My 3rd Storybook Is Released!

     I am super excited to be able to share with you that my 3rd storybook has been published through This one is entitled, "Who Are You?" It features a little boy who wonders how he can help the new girl in his class feel welcome. It features love, cookies, and wise advice from Mom.
     It also has a few personal touches interwoven in the story from me.The new little girl at school is named Marie. This is in honor of my grandmother. I didn't have a chance to tell her this. I found out the book had been accepted for publication just days before my grandma's 99th birthday. I didn't tell her at the little party we had on her birthday because I didn't want to distract from the party or her being the center of attention by talking about my book. I planned to tell her about this on Valentine's Day when I went to visit, sort of as my Valentine to her. I never got that chance as she passed away on February 3rd.
     I also named the teacher in the storybook with the last name of one of my best friends from my childhood days, Jenny Fopma, thus the wise "Miss Fopma" is leading the class with her good advice. It is also a shout out to Kerry and Eileen Fopma as well.
     The third book release is just as exciting as the first book release. When you have a moment-please follow the link and enjoy the preview of the book. Then consider maybe buying the book for one of your favorite young readers.

And here is a Pinterest Page for the new storybook:

Monday, January 6, 2014


     So-with the start of the new year, comes the start of all the dreams I have for my writing and other schemes. I have signed up for two different writing challenges. One is "Start the Year Off Write Challenge." More details about this challenge can be found by following the link below.


     This one involves taking the writing prompts and challenges that are posted each day and applying them to your own projects. I decided to revisit a poem I have been toying with for years. It is a blend of fact and fiction, as all my writing is.


Her hair is wild, wind swept waves.
Trapped, she no longer leaves this bed.

I sit and wonder what to say,
Words float between us, scurrying away.

A stranger to her self, as she is to me.
Eyes roam round the room,
What exactly does she see?

I see her standing on the edge of the rocks.
We peered down at the frothy shore.
The setting for the tales she told of pirates and their gold.

Tintagel. Mystery and majesty all in one word.
Barely a whisper on her lips, as I recall the fortress ruins.

Her loneliness crushes us as she shivers and weeps,
mumbling to all that have disappeared and left her waiting.

She is the only, lonely keeper of her memories.
No one left to recall the small girl trudging off to school,
hair pulled in tight pigtails, no one remembers the blushing bride.

I long to tell her, I will remember all the stories she told,
they are more precious to me than cities of gold.

I long to say it's okay for her to leave me here, there is nothing left to fear.
Family, friends, and a loving God eagerly await her, calling her near.

Suddenly there is a riot of bells and buzzers, crying in alarm.
Nurses rush in checking the monitors' beacons, grasping at her slender arm.

The notebook I have feverishly been writing in drops to the floor.
As I think of rushing for the door, my pen slips from my grasp.

It rolls along, resting against a wheel of the bed, a momentary haven
before it is crushed as the defibrillator wheels from the room.
Truth; my tears are not sadness. She will not be back, she is truly free.