I broke my foot on Friday the 13th,
tripping over our black cat.
I dislike mushrooms.
Take a journey with D.L. Finn as she blends her love of
nature with her deepest emotions. Sit with her on the forest floor observing
its tranquil beauty, or stroll along the ocean’s shore admiring the vastness of
its horizon. Here in these peaceful moments
you’ll be able to experience her thoughts and feelings in the light—and in the darkness. This is a thought-provoking collection of poetry that invites the
reader into all the seasons of a soul.
Excerpt from Just Her Poetry: NATURE
Fall and Winter
D.L. Finn is an independent California local who encourages
everyone to embrace their inner child. She was born and raised in the foggy Bay
Area, but in 1990 relocated with her husband, kids, dogs, and cats to the
Sierra foothills in Nevada City, CA. She immersed herself in reading all types
of books, but especially loved romance, horror, and fantasy. She always
treasured creating her own reality on paper. Finally, being surrounded by
towering pines, oaks, and cedars, her creativity was nurtured until it bloomed.
Her creations vary from children’s books, young adult fantasy, and adult
paranormal romance to an autobiography with poetry. She continues on her
adventures with an open invitation for her readers to join her.
Hello, and welcome to the next stop on the RRBC Spotlight Author Blog Tour for the amazing author, John Fioravanti!
It is an honor to introduce you to John and his work!
The REFLECTIONS Blog Tour
I’m grateful to my host of this fifth post of the REFLECTIONS TOUR, and to Nonnie Jules
and the #RRBC Team who arranged it all!
Reflection 26 – Love Yourself – You’re Worth It!
“You can search throughout the
entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection
than yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere. You yourself, as
much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection.”
Buddhism is based upon the teachings of Gautama Buddha who
taught in eastern India over twenty-five centuries ago. His philosophy
sought a middle way between unbridled sensuality and a-self discipline that denied
any sensual pleasure. His teachings were handed down by oral tradition until
put into writing four centuries later.
I read this quote twice to make sure I got it right the first
time. My immediate reaction was, Really? On reading his words a
third time, there came a glimmer of understanding. As I began to see his
meaning, I realized that it is my own life experience that allowed me not only
to understand, but to admire his wisdom. I’m afraid that as a young man, this
lesson would have completely escaped me.
We are social beings, and we search for love because it is
one of our basic needs. Yet most, if not all of us, look outside of ourselves
to find those worthy of our love. At this point, I’m not differentiating
between familial, platonic, or romantic love relationships, because I don’t
think this teaching is about any one of them. In my mind, this statement is
about all of them. We look outside of ourselves for our best friends and our
intimate romantic partners. What we don’t do is look within first.
Buddha is not only teaching us that we must love ourselves
first, but he goes further by saying that no one is more worthy of
our love than ourselves. That means that I am at least as worthy of my
love as any other person I might choose. Embracing his meaning, my mind
reeled… I wasn’t used to thinking along these lines!
I was raised in a culture that taught self-denial to make me
worthy of God’s love. I equated self-love with selfishness – another negative
characteristic that one would do well to eliminate. Christianity taught me to
focus my love and good deeds outside of myself… do
unto others… look after the needs of others first… are just a couple
of lessons that come to mind from my early religious instruction.
How many of us grew to adulthood with a jaded view of ourselves?
I was taught to control my urges – all of them – lest they lead me into sin.
I’m sure this is why Buddha’s words seemed so alien to me at first; it was
culture shock. When I take the time to digest this idea, it is enlightening… charity
or caritas begins at home.
I’m sure we’ve all met people who suffer from self-loathing. They
are not happy and they do not love others. How can they? It stands to
reason that if I do not believe myself worthy of my own love, then how could I
see myself as worthy of love from another; how could I trust another to be
worthy of my love? On the other hand, if I accept myself, not as a perfect
being, but as a worthy being, I can love myself. In loving
myself, I can make choices that are good for me. I’m not talking about being
self-indulgent, constantly seeking to satisfy every desire, with no
consideration of the consequences. I mean that I must look after my own best
interests by doing the hard work that is necessary to make me into the kind of
person I wish to become! But I can’t do that unless I start by recognizing
my own worthiness.
In recognizing my own worthiness to be loved by myself, I am
not denying that I am a flawed being. This does not negate the fact that I get
impatient easily, or that I lose my temper and hurt those around me. But I am
sure that by being wise enough to love myself, I will find it easier to deal
with my shortcomings more successfully. A friend has been trying to teach me
this lesson for quite some time, and now, I think I understand.
In loving myself in this way, I am eminently qualified to take a lover and cherish that person in a way that testifies to their worthiness to be loved. In the same way, I am free to love another person as my best friend. Because I acknowledge my own worthiness to be loved, I can extend that caring to my best friend who will be inclined to reciprocate in kind. You reap what you sow.Because of this teaching, taken to heart and internalized, I am more open to the lessons of love – no matter what their origin.
Fioravanti is a retired secondary school educator who completed his thirty-five
year career in the classroom in June, 2008.
his career, John focused on developing research, analysis, and essay writing
skills in his History classroom. This led to the publication of his first
non-fiction work for student use, Getting
It Right in History Class. A
Personal Journey to the Heart of Teaching is his second non-fiction work;
it attempts to crystallize the struggles, accomplishments, and setbacks
experienced in more than three decades of effort to achieve excellence in his
first work of fiction is Passion &
Struggle, Book One of
The Genesis Saga, and is set within
Kenneth Tam’s Equations universe (Iceberg Publishing). He claims that, after
two non-fiction books, he’s having the time of his life bringing new stories
and characters to life! Book Two is Treachery
At present, John lives in Waterloo, Ontario with Anne, his bride of forty-six years. They have three children and three grandchildren. In December of 2013, John and Anne founded Fiora Books for the express purpose of publishing John’s books.
I am happy to showcase the RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB’S July 2019 Spotlight Author, Karl Morgan!
Carl Prescott and the Demon Queen
Excerpt from Chapter 20
stood on a beach where gentle waves rolled up toward their feet. Both wore
shorts and pullover shirts. Sylvia led Carl off the beach toward a small house
that sat behind a picket fence. They went up onto the porch and stopped. Sylvia
stared at the door. “This was a bad idea. I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
don’t have to stay,” Carl replied. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
turned, put her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. “Now, that’s the Carl
that I know. Don’t ever change, okay?” He nodded. She released him and walked
over to the rail at the edge of the porch. “This place reminds you of
something, doesn’t it?”
joined her at the railing and looked around the area. “This is a lot like my
nodded. “I figure when we were on the Rope Bridge, you must have seen this
place in my memories.” She put her hand on his upper arm. “And that’s why your
island is similar to mine.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “You
put a piece of me into your place, just like I did.”
will. I’m okay now, and I really want you to come inside.” She walked over to
the door, took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
walked inside and gasped. The main room was identical to his island home, even
down to the placement of identical furniture and the doilies on the back of the
couch. “This is amazing.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “We must have an
sighed, walked over to a closed door, and turned to face him. After a few deep
breaths, she said, “My bedroom is behind this door. Whenever I’m feeling the
most vulnerable, I come here to cry myself to sleep.” She turned and ran her
hand over the door. “If you come inside, you’ll know everything. I’m terrified
that you will be shocked, horrified, or hate me forever.”
don’t have to go in there. This is your choice.”
turned back to him and wiped tears from her face. “Is it?” She turned to the door
and pushed the door slightly ajar. “I think you deserve to know everything
about me, Carl Sandberg Prescott.” She sighed, pushed open the door, and
could hear her crying, so he followed her into the room. Sylvia was sitting on
the bed with her hands over her face. Tears dripped down her arms and fell onto
the coverlet. Carl looked around the room. There were dozens of portraits of
men filling most of the open wall space. Carl’s picture hung near the bed. He
walked over and sat next to her. “Are you okay? I really like that picture of
dropped her hands and chuckled. “Which one?”
pointed. “This is the only one, Sylvia.”
groaned, stood up, and faced him. “Carl, these are the pictures of every man
I’ve ever loved. All of them are you! Don’t you get it?”
don’t know what to say.”
every one of these lives, I have lived like a normal person, yet we always
ended up together. I didn’t even realize all had the same soul until you were
about to step off the Rope Bridge. In that instant, I saw all of these men in
you. When you left me behind, I thought I’d lost you forever.” She began to cry
stood and held her. At first, she resisted, but eventually held him back. “I am
so happy to have had so many lives with you, Sylvia. I had no idea.”
moved back and wiped her eyes. “Neither did I until the Rope Bridge. Now, I
look around at these pictures and don’t know what to think. You said before
there is a chance we could be together in this life, right?”
smiled. “Yes, that is true, but as you’ve said, I’m still a teenager, and like
everyone will have different relationships before I’m ready for marriage or
do you want me to do, Carl?”
I don’t want you to join with the others. It won’t work, and countless lives
could be lost, including yours.”
nodded. “I’ll think about it, okay?” He smiled. “Now, take my hand.”
reappeared outside of Death’s bungalow, which was now surrounded by hundreds of
thousands of supplicants headed to pledge allegiance to the demon queen. Carl
walked up on the porch and sat on a rocking chair. “I can’t believe this is all
stepped out of the door and offered a mug of coffee. “Busy day, huh?”
took the mug and sipped his drink. “This isn’t regular coffee, Mort.”
know what you witnessed, Carl. I thought a little fortified drink might help
you cope with what you saw. Full disclosure, I have been to that place before.”
I really the only man she’s ever loved?”
sat on the other rocking chair. “Yes, but that isn’t the point.”
sighed and looked at his feet. “I am so confused right now and why isn’t that
are a mortal human, and she is an immortal demon. What Sylvia did is not
unusual. Many immortals choose to live regular lives in order to experience the
unimaginable power of life, love, and desire. The only thing they are incapable
of knowing that it always ends too soon. That is what makes life so perfect. It
is temporary, and every moment could be the last, which makes every experience,
emotion, and feeling real and important.”
never thought of it that way, Mort.”
“Of course, you didn’t. As a human, life is a journey. It is impossible for you to imagine eternity, even though the spirit within you is eternal. Sylvia is different and more like me. In my job, I experience death constantly, not my own, but those of my children. Even I do not comprehend their emotional state and those they have left behind.” He sighed. “Oh, how I wish I could sometimes.”
Author Bio: Karl Morgan has a lifelong fascination with stories in the science fiction and fantasy genres, whether it was the Tom Swift novels by Victor Appleton he read as a young boy, or television like Lost in Space and Star Trek, and especially films like Star Wars, Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. All of those tales put the protagonist in terrible situations where the odds are against them and, yet, somehow they prevail. The reader/viewer is always left with a sense that something greater than ourselves is watching over us. In his new Carl Prescott young adult fantasy series, the journey continues as our hero faces terrible danger and odds to help his friends and family. At the end, he will learn new things that will change his perspective on life. Karl lives in the San Diego area with his best, four-legged friend, his toy poodle Chachis. Follow Karl online: Twitter Facebook Website
Please follow along on Karl’s tour as he shares writing advice as well as excerpts from his new book!
If The Truth Will Set You Free is made into a film, who would I like
to play the lead?
Normally, the casting is in the producers’ hands. I do not have a say in who should play me. If I’m given a choice, I would recommend a young Korean actor/singer by the name of Teaceyon. He looks like me when I was a teenager.
…After a series of invigorating dances with the party twins, I was ready to call it a night, but under Dorothy’s insistence, I stayed. Nobody at the party knew of my sexual inclinations except me. During a slow dance, Dorothy leaned her head against my chest. Although this intimate way of dancing was not new to me, I had no intention of leading my friend on. I tried to keep a polite distance. Dot thought me shy and continued her aggressive approach. I had little choice but to go with the flow since she held me tight with no intention of letting me leave anytime soon. The moment arrived when her lips almost touched mine. She looked into my “eyes wide shut,” and expected romance to sparkle between us. I did not back away, even though I did not feel the same as Dot. Since it was Valentine’s Day, I did not wish to upset her. I play-acted, as much as I could. In my mind, it was the correct thing to do. After all, I will be back to London in a week and would not be seeing my Malaysian friends for another year. To me, this was merely a moment in time to make my female friend feel good about herself.
Author Bio: Young alias Bernard Foong is, first and foremost, a sensitivist. He finds nuance in everything. To experience the world he inhabits is an adventure which is mystical, childlike and refreshing. He has a rare ability to create beauty in a unique fashion. His palettes have been material, paint, words and human experiences.
By Christine Maynard (screenwriter and novelist).
Foong just published A Harem Boy’s Saga – V – Metanoia; a memoir by Young – the final volume of his autobiographic five-book series of Mr. Foong’s young life:
A Harem Boy’s Saga: A Memoir by Young.
This provocative story spanning
4 decades and 3 continents is about a boy who was sent to a very exclusive
English boarding school in the 1960s where he was initiated into a clandestine
sexual society and then spirited away to serve in wealthy and elite Middle
Eastern harems .”
Ranked Internationally Best-Selling Author on amazon.com
Boy’s Saga – Book I – Initiation (a memoir by Young)
Boy’s Saga – Book II – Unbridled (sequel)
Boy’s Saga – Book III – Debauchery (3rd volume in the series))
Boy’s Saga – Book IV – Turpitude (4th volume in the series)
A Harem Boy’s Saga series is published by Solstice Publishing and
is available in print and E-books internationally.
A Harem Boy’s Saga (series) – Film Option Agreement signed with a
U.K. Film Production Company.
Book I – Initiation is currently in film production.
It is my privilege and pleasure to help shine the spotlight on an incredibly supportive RRBC and RWISA author, Mary Adler. Today, she shares her thoughts on telling stories about real characters who lived and died. I’ll let her explain.
TELLING THEIR STORIES
When I am bogged down writing, when I can’t
think of any words, let alone the right words—whatever they may be—I persist no
matter how much I would like to quit. The driving force that propels me to sit
in the chair day after day, to hit the keys even when I know I will scrap the
hard-won scenes, is my need to bring to life the reality of forgotten people.
Don’t get me wrong. My first purpose when writing a mystery is to
entertain, to surprise, to take the reader on a trip to another time and place
and community. But the reason I write
the Oliver Wright series is because I want my readers to know what it was
really like to live in America during World War II, to hear the stories of the
people who lived then.
When I was full of doubt while writing my first
Oliver Wright and Harley mystery, my friend Steve, who is psychic, encouraged
me. For more than one good and
sufficient reason I believe he truly does communicate with the other side. (But that is a story for another
time.) He told me that they wanted
me to tell their story.
I assumed my relatives, Italians who had been
discriminated during World War II, were clamoring to have their story told, but
I was wrong.
Steve told me he saw a group of soldiers
holding rifles, some standing, some kneeling. It was the soldiers who wanted me to tell
their story, to try to make people understand what it was like to surrounded by
death, to watch their friends die day after day after day, and not have time to
Steve’s vision prompted me to write this passage
in In the Shadow of Lies.
Oliver, a homicide detective on medical leave
from the Marines, is back home and remembering what happened on Guam.
I was back in Pt. Richmond, but Guam was only as far away as the
next night’s sleep. It wasn’t the memory of fighting, of being wounded, that
tortured me. It was the memory of walking away from the endless graves, from
the rifles stuck bayonet-down in freshly turned dirt. My men had buried too
many friends, friends who had died beside them, sometimes quickly, sometimes so
slowly they had begged their buddies to finish them off.
Then the living
had moved on—on to more killing. The war allowed no time to mourn, to
grieve, to honor the death of a man they might have loved as deeply as they
would ever love anyone. They moved on, they fought, they buried more men, they
moved on — and no one could see they were drowning in unshed tears.
I had hidden my
face when the hospital plane taxied down the runway on Guam. The medics
expected me to be grateful that I was leaving the fighting, but grief filled my
heart. I was leaving behind friends willing to sacrifice their own lives for
each other and for their dogs. It was why they fought. Forget the pretty
speeches about preserving democracy and freedom—they died for each other,
killing and being killed to end the endless killing.
I can’t know if I have honored the soldiers in
my friend’s vision in the way they wanted, but I believe they sent Oliver’s
thoughts to me to share with my readers. I did my best.
Mary Adler was an
attorney and dean at CWRU School of Medicine. She escaped the ivory tower for
the much gentler world of World War II and the adventures of homicide detective
Oliver Wright and his German shepherd, Harley. She lives with her family in
Sebastopol, California, where she creates garden habitats for birds and bees
and butterflies. She is active in dog rescue and does canine scent work with
her brilliant dogs — the brains of the team — and loves all things Italian.