Stacey O'Neale

Stacey O'Neale

Excellent, informative site for Fantasy Readers/Writers.

Watch out for the Super Harvest Moon - NASA Science

Watch out for the Super Harvest Moon - NASA Science

The Harvest Moon; the full moon nearest the autumnal equinox.

It evokes an image of high-sided wagons pulled by chestnut-colored horses down a dry field of corn, a farmer and his boys walking along side, yanking the ears from the stalks and tossing them into the bed. The farmer’s chirrups to his horses carry in the cool air.

It is the Harvest moon because it rises just as the sun is going down, giving the farmer light to continue until dew forms on the corn. The long hours ensures his summer’s labor made it into the corncrib of the barn or the round wire-mesh bin outside. It is the beginning of harvest, the end of summer, and tells us Get ready. Winter is coming.

Like the swirling leaves from the maple trees, anticipation is in the air and harvesting, sweeping the patio, and cleaning the yard of the vestiges of summer is a part of the season.

Because, the Harvest Moon is here, seasons change, and the dance of life goes on.

Coffey. Tea. And Literary.

Coffey. Tea. And Literary.

1. If you could have a superpower, what would you have? Why?

I love this question. It gives me a chance to give my protag a bit of a bump.

My superpower: To have the ability to make a person tell or see absolute truth. Think of the possibilities, a politician answers a reporter's question without slithering around the truth.

2. Who is your style icon?

Easy, peasy. Raquel Welch. Who else can look and dress like her in ageless style?

3. What is your favorite quote?

'Enjoy the little things and the big things will take care of themselves' - Garfield, my mentor.

4. What is the best compliment you've ever received?

"We miss you." from a subordinate at my previous job.

5. What playlist/cd is on your ipod/cd player right now?

*cringe* Heaven help me. ok, here goes...Lady Gaga. Though she isn't a 'style icon' of mine (I usually drape my meat on the grill), Bad Romance is great exercise music.

6. Are you a night owl or a morning person?

Moorrrrrninnnnnng. Crack of dawn, when the rooster crows kinda person.

7. Do you prefer dogs or cats?

Oh, I gotta have at least one of each. But I prefer the cat on my lap rather than my German Shepard.

8. What is the meaning behind your blog name?

It is the title to my first manuscript. Later I changed it to Of Oak and Daemons

Full Submissions « Denise Little

Full Submissions « Denise Little

When formatting a submission to an agent, I follow the just-in-case rule. I place my info on the first page and in the footer at the bottom of the other pages of my manuscript.

Example:

Top of the page - Last name/Name of manuscript 
Bottom of the page - Full name    Email    Phone number

And the page numbers are situated top right.

In this way, the contact info is handy....Just in case the agent needs it.

The Bookshelf Muse

The Bookshelf Muse
"We need a contest, yes? Of course we do!

Here at The Bookshelf Muse, it's all about becoming stronger writers together."

Excellent contest alert!

By word of Charity, this is one of the most generous sponsors I have seen, giving time and expertise.

Hike over there now!

Market My Words: Today's Agent Pitch Contest!

Market My Words: Today's Agent Pitch Contest!

Shout, CONTEST! and even half-asleep writers like me snort and mumble, Whaaat?

How to Cope With Rejection, a step-by-step solution to E-jects.

We get them, those polite, generic rejections from agents who we worshiped until a moment ago. Now, after the email that tells us thanks but no thanks, really appreciate you thinking of us, not right for us, I have a solution that takes care the pissed off feeling of re- and de-jection.

Secrets follow:

Get into the sound tab of your computer.

Change the Ding, Ping, Ta Da, or whatever the darn thing plays when you get the frustrating email.

Choose something funny, happy, merry, whatever and when the email slams into the Inbox, it covers the GROAN sound.

Mine is John Wayne saying, “Don’t tell me it’s a fine morning or I’ll shoot you.”

Hey, it works for me. *snort, snicker*

Alas, the above does nothing for snail though.

Talking to myself? Who me? No, not you.

To my writerly pals: Have you ever created a character that Would Not Shut Up?

After completing my latest UF, The Magic Withheld, one of the characters reached out, grabbed my collar and said, "Not yet."

He is a moderately important figure, a seventeen-year-old kid with a combination of magic-envy and teenage angst. And there he was, waving and gesturing until my attention focused on him.

"Wait," he said, "I'm not done yet. Don't type those two words, 'the end', until I have my say."

And so I listened.

(I'll stop here for all my un-writerly friends to explain something. No, I don't hear voices - much. It is a writer's thing. The characters tend to speak to their creator, giving insight and plot intrigue. Writers understand my inner - and sometimes loud - conversation with dragons, ghosts, protags, and strong heroines.)

I liked his persistence and obvious anxiety when it appeared his story may be lost if I didn’t listen.

I listened. And planned. And wrote.

I didn’t expect a YA to slip into my mind when I began world building my magical world of the Imperium, Wilders, and Tener Unus but it appeared.

Thanks to a teenager who came to life for me and continues in The Magic Denied.

Tribute to Guardian Angels

I don't celebrate death, especially anniversaries of death.

After my mother passed away, I wrote this as a answer to the age-old question, Why do these things happen?


The Guardian Angel

She had watched her Charge throughout her life, through childhood, and adult, in tears and joy.

She had been with her, Always.

She was her Guardian Angel and had adored her from the moment she became her Charge. She laughed with her, her loves, her hurts. She wiped away her tears and soothed her worries and distress.

Since she was a tiny babe in her mother's womb, she had been with her, easing her into life, and protecting her through all dangers, stretching out her hand and with a gentle stroke shielding her Charge from harm.

For she was with her, Always.

Smiling, standing unseen, the Guardian Angel took simple joy and pride in all the adventures. With fond indulgence, the Guardian Angel watched as her Charge laughed and danced her way through the exploits of toddler, childhood, adolescent, wife, mother, grandmother.

Now, her charge was a senior. Life was a slow dance, glorying in the marvels of family, the youthful antics of the little ones and side by side, the Guardian Angel watched with her Charge as her family grew.

And smiled and laughed as they marveled in the joys of this threshold of life.

But life became hard. Her Charge was tiring and the slow dance had become painful and wearying.

And through it all, the Guardian Angel watched, caring for her and protecting her, never ending, never sleeping.

For she was with her, Always.

Now she bit her lip, her soul hurting, as she stood unseen with her Charge’s family.

Watching.
Waiting.

She stretched out her trembling hand once more.

A strong Presence fell gently about her, stopping her. Startled, she looked up into His Face, with His sad, grieving Eyes.

Wait, no. NO...NO!

Then the strong Arms held her, kept her close, and she hid her face, as she gasped with unbearable sorrow.

Grief overtook her. She sunk to the ground, falling away from Him. She buried her face in her arms as an overwhelming realization came to her. Her young girl, her gracious lady, her loving mother, and grandmother...oh, please, no...

A deep Voice said, "Do not grieve. Your labor of love has not ended. Your duties have only shifted to a new horizon, filled and soothed with an Everlasting Joy.

“Your Charge has not ended."

As He spoke, His loving Touch stroked away the terrible, razor-sharp wound in her heart.

Then, she heard a familiar sound.

The voice of her dear lady, wondering, questioning, confused. She looked up from her tear-wet arms. Her dear lady stood gazing, with wide eyes and quick breaths, questing for something recognizable.

"You must help her. You must guide her. For her new home is prepared and waiting with Me. Your duties have not ended, but have gone toward that which is the goal of all who will come to Me."

Now, her Charge's eyes were on her, still confused, but the strained lines in her face easing now. Her dear lady sighed and relaxed, as if an anchoring lifeline had appeared. The Guardian Angel smiled, stood, and held out her trembling hand, gasping with the unshed tears. Her dear lady looked into her eyes, and then looked at her outstretched hand. Slowly, her hand slipped into hers, and the Guardian Angel gently began to pull her dear lady away.

Away from the machines and monitors. Away from the hospital bed and the earthly life.

Once, her Charge stopped, resisting her pull and looked back at the ones they were leaving.

She waited with her, their hands tightening as her Charge’s loved ones were left behind, each bowed under the terrible pain of separation, all with their own Guardian Angel touching, soothing, embracing with gentle tears.

Her Charge watched and a single tear coursed down her cheek. With longing, she hesitated; her face saddened with all the sorrow of the world and then she looked down and away from her loved ones.

Then her Charge nodded at her Guardian Angel. She smiled through her own tears and arm in arm, they both passed with Him into the Light.

To be with Him.

Always.