I love Twitter!

High Praise from a Fellow Author for "James & the Dragon"

I have just finished reading James & the Dragon Volume 1 of the Farloft Chronicles, by Theresa Snyder and frankly I can say that it is the best children’s dragon story series I have ever read. The characters swiftly become live to the imagination the story pulls you along with gusto. Had my daughter been still small I would have been so pleased to be able to introduce her to this lovely and perfect for bedtime reading tale. I can highly recommend this series to anyone with younger children probably up to about ten years old and also to adults who just love dragons as well. David Stevens author of Trainspotters Guide Other Earths & Vampiric Retirement.

Happy Halloween! ! ! ! ! !

 

May your bags be filled with Chocolate!

The World of Twitterland

I have been on Twitter a little over five months now. My students encouraged me to sign up when I posted my first novel on Amazon Kindle, May 1, 2013. I had no idea the wealth of talent and the depth of energy I would find there.

I would like to take a moment to share some of the high points of the journey thus far. Perhaps you will take a moment to click on a link and make a new friend or find a great read. (I have read 50 indie authors since joining twitter and struck gold many time.)

I can't list them all here. As of yesterday I have over 2,000 followers, which is just a handful compared to many, but just the right amount for me currently.

I will try to introduce the few here in order of appearance, like a stage play, because really it orchestrates itself much like that, although Mike has compared it to a cocktail party.

In fact, let's start there.

Michael Hicks at @kreelanwarrior on twitter, writes incredible science fiction. Epic works that keep you thinking long after you have read the last page and closed the book. He has also been a boon to me. His book on the ins and outs of indie publishing is invaluable. Thanks Mike. Connect with his books here:

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_0_13?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=michael+hicks&sprefix=michael+hicks%2Cnull%2C187&rh=n%3A133140011%2Ck%3Amichael+hicks

The Dragon (I cannot reveal his name as they only give it out to their close friends) at @OftheWilds on twitter, has become an inspiration. He is not published "yet," but watch out when he is, because you are going to be surprised at how hard he hits the fantasy world. You are lucky, you can read his work free now at:

http://theblackcollar1.blogspot.com/

Richard Maddock at @BalletMuzik on twitter is an incredible musician. I purchased his album "The Garden Within" a couple of months back and it has not left the range of my hearing since. It is magical, relaxing, moving, and imaginative. I have put a wonderful YouTube link below for your viewing enjoyment along with a link to all his albums. His work is well worth the download. In fact, give some away to a friend too. They will thank you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=QVd9FC8wpok#t=28

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-music&field-keywords=richard+maddock&rh=n%3A163856011%2Ck%3Arichard+maddock&ajr=0

Randi Grace Nilsberg at @Randigracenilsb on twitter is a gifted photographer. Her work is shown on her webpage at the link below. I have ordered her work online. It is as easy as clicking a button and beautiful when it arrives. As you can see from the site she produces each work at the time you order it and can ship it worldwide. Take a cruise through her galley. I promise you'll find something you can't resist.

http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/randi-grace-nilsberg.html

I would never have met any of these gifted/talented folks if I had not taken the step into Twitterland. Even if you don't follow me hand-in-hand into that social media, take a moment to click on these links and enjoy the wealth of imagination. I look forward to sharing more 'gold' from the land of twitter in the future.

Head shot for Authorsdb

In Which You Meet James & the Dragon

Farloft ruffles his wings and extends it out over you to draw you close.
He wants to share his latest PR.
Check it out.

http://amloki.blogspot.com/2013/10/in-which-you-meet-james-and-dragon.html 

The Moroccan Room (A wiriter's retreat)

I think every writer longs for a space to call their own, a quiet corner where they can work undisturbed, but few have the luxury of having one. Often, hours for writing are eeked out after the household goes to bed or in the wee hours of the morning before everyone rises.

So writers take their laptops and learn to adjust to the hustle and bustle of a coffee shop atmosphere or they hide away in a quiet corner of the local library for those few hours they need to connect with their muse.

I was having a hard time finding a place to escape. I need solitude. I am too much of a people person to be in a coffee shop without striking up a conversation. I can’t stand the solitude of a library – as much as I adore reading. And, there was no peace at home. My elderly father who lives with me rises before I do and goes to bed long after I have retired. In the time between he has become addicted to the T.V. since mom passed two and a half years ago. The volume is set at an ear-ringing level due to his hearing loss, which seems to be something we cannot correct to his satisfaction.

Hence, I had a dilemma. My writing had come to a standstill, until I came up with the idea of converting the back deck into a writing/reading room. That was last summer, and this summer it was completed. 

Dad is always game for a project. He and our Jack-of-all-trades, Amos, covered the deck with a solid roof on one end and a corrugated plastic roof with lattice on the other. They screened it in, then when fall descended on us last week they completed glassing it in. 

I decided to decorate it in jewel tones and the more I worked on it, the more it became known as the Moroccan Room. It is plush to the point of opulent. It is wired for lights, the soothing sound of the bubble pot, music, heater (to chase the fall chill away), and laptop. The Wifi even agreed to work for me in my quiet retreat.

The kids from school joke and call it my hookah lounge. It has been referred to as the Harem room. I have had many offers from friends who want to move in. It has been a hit with everyone. For me, it is my retreat…my quiet place…my muse who happens to be a heavy set guy with a full beard and a head full of wild black hair loves it. He has taken up permanent residence in the chair in the corners, tea glass in hand with his feet propped up on a pile of plush pillows.

Isis' Weekend, or The Cat Awakening

Isis, my cat, does not understand about weekends. She thinks a Saturday or a Sunday is like any other day of the week.

On weekdays, we rise and have a companionable romp with a shoelace, or a battle around the scratching post with a peacock feather. I always set aside 15-20 minutes of my morning to play with her.

But on the weekend, I don't want to get up at 5:30 am. So after just so much of the Siamese Whisker Torture, a dragging of long tickling whiskers on my cheek, nose or any other exposed skin, I get up, feed and water Isis and go back to bed to sleep, I wish, another two and a half or three hours.

However, this plan has not taken Isis into consideration. She wants to play like any other day of the week.

Her first strategy to get me up and at it, is to entice me by example. I hear her batting around a ball or paper, of which she usually has no less than half a dozen, it being her favorite toy.

If this act does not work, the next is sure to get my attention. She starts up her engine in the living room. She revs her motor as she tears at her kitty tree. Then she literally ZOOMS around the house. Her favorite race course includes me as part of the straight away. Occasionally, I even become a pit stop with a authoritative Yow! for me to speed up in my part as crew chief.

If the first two devices still leave me with my head firmly shoved under my pillow and my body still wrapped tightly in covers, the last tactic is sure to get results. It's called the Guilt Trip.

She starts by bringing her catnip mouse to bed. She lays it as an offering to me on my pillow with a plaintive Yow? This first maneuver is never enough to motivate me into rising. I only dig in further. The next object she delivers is her shoulder pad. It used to be my shoulder pad, now Isis used it as a comfort toy, like a dog uses an old shoe or 'Linus' his blanket. Next is one of those wadded pieces of paper, or her plastic center out of the scotch tape roll. And so it goes on, each thing brought, each presented with a begging yow as though to say, "look, don't you feel guilty lying there when I have no one to play with?"

After a while the pile of toys has grown so that I envision myself as a headline in one of those tabloid newspapers in the supermarket checkout line; Woman Suffocates in Bed! - Buried by CAT TOYS!

So finally with a sigh, I relent, uncover, get up and play!

Bliss

The waves flatten as they curl toward the shore.The small orange buoy bobs in and out of view beyond the surf line.

The sky stretches out endlessly above the sea, blue with wispy feather-like clouds. The white is just enough to make the blue seem that much brighter.

The early raisers amble slowly with head down, pushing at possible 'finds' in the sand with their toes. On occasion a particularly eye catching object will tempt them to stoop and examine it more closely. Perhaps this one is interesting enough to place on the mantel of the beach house, or in the basket of treasures back home.

The beach dogs bound and race, barking at their masters, the waves, the glory of the morning. In the city they would snarl and nip at each other, here they merely pass. The wonder of the place, the limitless space, frees them from their territorial boundaries.

I sit on the dune before the house. My legs curled beneath me. Last night, I kept this same vigil as I watched the full moon make its own gift of sparkling jewels upon the ocean's surface. Watched the moon and the sea turn the world into a magical place where one could imagine sleeping dragons beneath the dunes and 'Aires Above the Water' performed by schools of talented porpoise and whales - their wet backs glistening in the moonlight.

Now the sun has replaced the moon. The early morning breeze cools my cheeks, caressing them gently.

It's really too early for the sand to be warm, but nonetheless, I slip off my shoes and socks and wiggle my toes into the sand with inner satisfaction.

This is heaven. This is what we are born for - live for. These small microcosms of time when, for a few minutes, everything in life seems perfect. My soul breathes in the perfection of the moment. I relax gently into the day and smile.

My Friend

What can I say

Except it is thus,

That she is my friend

Through knowledge and trust.

And with more knowledge

Our friendship will grow,

And we will walk hand and hand
Into the future unknown.

With my friend at my side
Adventures we'll seek,

And live life more fully

For the company we keep.

-1996-

An Unforgettable Event - June 18, 2013

I have been lucky enough to receive a handful of reviews at this point in my career. However, I felt this one deserved some blog time. I was very moved when I read this review of "We 3," my book about caregiving for my elder parents. I would like to personally thank Travis for taking the time to share his own experiences and for putting his feelings so eloquently to paper.

5.0 out of 5 stars Cats from hell, an arduous journey, and a heavenly finish June 18, 2013

By Travis Adams Irish

Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase

There are many audiences for books of this type. People will read Ms. Snyder's work for: comfort from the feeling of aging, reflection of family closeness, to cope with caring for a loved one, and so much more.

For me, this was an eye opening experience, showing how loving people can be to one another. Having grown up in a dysfunctional family with any number of betrayals and dark revelations, it is a relief to know that people can love at this level. You really grasp the tangible strength of the author's character and bare bones honesty that many wouldn't be brave enough to reflect.

If you're not reading this selection for soul searching or comfort, you'll enjoy the à la carte chapter selections that can be indulged at any time like a palette of fresh, wholesome fruit.

The real strength in this author comes forward when she is telling the stories of real life struggles; through her eyes, and the eyes of those involved. The style reminds me of To Kill a Mockingbird, and I would enjoy seeing how this author could bring about another true-life story. She is at her best in those moments that inspire awkward silence in others. Where someone else may find despair, she finds new hope, and another reason to love stronger. If ever there were a testament for how to be grateful; this definitely is a strong component.

For those who want to learn to love during hard times; this will be a fireplace to their heart. For those who have suffered the dark corners of the world; this will give them a glimpse of what a real family should strive toward. For those who want to gain perspective at a time when change seems unbearable; this will reinvigorate their senses to the endless possibilities of life and appreciation.

One Thousand Worlds in One Thousand Words

ANNOUNCING A NEW BLOG FOR
FANTASY WRITERS AND READERS 

 

"A place where new worlds are born. A place where fantasy writers can showcase their work, by submitting a short synopsis and the opening thousand words of their published novels, short stories, novellas or works in progress. A place where readers can come to find great new authors, and leave feedback on their work. A place to find a thousand new worlds." - Richie Earl

I am pleased to say I was the first, of what I hope will be many, that Richie posted on this site. 

http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.com/2013/09/i-am-very-excited-to-welcome-theresa.html

Please drop in and have a look. Support by adding your work or comment, buying an author's work posted here.

Thank you, Richie

I was born in the Year of the Dragon

A Look at the Dragon Totem Meanings

A Dragon totem is one of the most powerful totems, representing a huge range of qualities, emotions, and traits. When Dragons come to us, it could mean many things.
The most common message a Dragon totem carry to us is a need for strength, courage, and fortitude. Dragons are also messengers of balance, and magic - encouraging us to tap into our psychic nature and see the world through the eyes of mystery and wonder.
More specifically, Dragons are the embodiment of primordial power - the ultimate ruler of all the elements. This is because the Dragon is the master of all the elements: Fire, Water, Earth, and Wind.
As a totem, the Dragon serves as a powerful guardian and guide. Encourage communication with your Dragon, and acknowledge your Dragon's presence as often as possible.

You Shelter Me

For my Father's 87th Birthday. 

(He loves Africa.)

Like the solitary African tree on the plains of the Serengeti, you have sheltered me. Within your branches I have sought comfort.

Like the tree which is an oasis from the burning sun, so you are the calming force which reaches out and soothes my fears.

Like the tree which gives its fruit and leaves to the wildlife around it, so also have you given of yourself to nurture me.

Like the animals that gather beneath the tree during the monsoons, the storm may rage about me, but I will stand steadfast in the lee of your trunk and I will survive with you to protect me.

Tree courtesy of genuardis.net

Reaching for the Sky

As the whale breaches toward the sky

His massive bulk extended,

Could it be he secretly wants to fly,

As the ruler of the deep he's not contented?

We all think of whales as gentle giants,

Contented with their lot,

Being strong, impressive and reliant,

But what, my friend, if they are not?

Perhaps they have dreams of better things,

Like us, some long to fly,

So they, with their fins, pray for wings,

And make valiant efforts toward the sky.

Theresa Snyder
- 1994 -

Coming Soon to Amazon Kindle!

"MALEFACTORS"

                      Volume IV of the Star Travelers Series

This volume is set in the year 30-31 A.R.(After Reestablishment)

Garrett and Pon have rescued a child from certain death at the hands of the local Guardians, on Goliath's third moon,only to find they cannot possibly keep him – or can they?

Targus and his crew are making their way to his home planet - rainy, dark and dank Walh. Targus is unaware his six half-brothers have knowledge of a secret about him. A secret that will lead to plotting murder and death for the MT Captain.

It is only through Terrell's inherited abilities and his persistence Targus may escape his fate in a society that is scarcely more than medieval in its technology. But, in order for Terrell to save his captain he must resurrect and conquer many of his own childhood fears. 

Haven't read the previous volumes of The Star Traveler Series?
Pick them up here: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=node%3D154606011&field-keywords=Theresa+Snyder 

VoiceCatcher.org - Monthly non-fiction column by Theresa Snyder

We 3: The Road Trip 

  

Dad notices a mural on a building we're passing: "Look at that pretty mural."

Mom: "What pretty girl? Are you ogling the girls again?"

Mom to Dad: "Well, that makes everything copasetic."

Dad: "I didn't think it was so pathetic."

Have you ever been in a car with two parents that are hard of hearing on  the way to visit your brother who's hard of hearing and stopped along the way to visit a friend who's also hard of hearing? We haven't either, but Theresa Snyder has.  Read about her road trip here.

Character is Everything

I have made a new friend in Italy, Rita Carla Francesca Monticelli. She is a fellow author, translator and scientist. I hope you will check out her blog and read the article she asked me to contribute to her site.

http://t.co/3W6JPDsKzo

Carla is also available on Twitter at https://twitter.com/ladyanakina

Loyal Young Damnling

A short story of desire -

LOYAL YOUNG DAMNLING

I cling to the shadows of the alley. I try so hard to move silently as I creep toward the children. They have what I so deeply desire. Their presence tugs on me like the chains Master often uses when I disobey him. Master tells me I am an appalling Damnling, but I am still young.

My foot hits a can in the alley causing it to careen loudly to the center. I plaster myself against the wall of the house and curse beneath my breath. I can feel the Master’s chains tighten. He always tells me I am too noisy. I must be quieter.

The children are all huddled close together, some bent low over the things they study. This is one of their night's of celebration. I have seen it before. Now, I am only startled when it booms and lights rain in twinkling stars overhead. It used to scare me when I was much younger. Master would growl and throw me out of the mansion to grovel pitifully beneath the bushes in the garden. “You must be brave!” he would demand. “Your cringing appalls me.” “Out of my sight!” His boot is heavy. It hurts.

I am braver now. I am almost to the children. I linger in the safety of the shadows waiting for my opportunity to take what I need. What I desire. What I long for so deeply I shiver at the thought.

It grows late. The explosions and lights overhead begin to slow. I crouch silently waiting for the right moment to lunge. The children start to dissipate. The time to move is approaching. I quiver in excitement. Soon…Soon…

The last two children linger picking up items from the ground. A growl uncontrollably escapes my lips. Master would be so angry if he heard it. I would be severely punished. The children’s heads snap up and they peer into the darkness of the alley, but they do not see. I intently stare at them, as Master does me, in a desire to make them do as I wish. It works and they flee with wild giggles, pushing and shoving one another.

I am left alone. I creep forward into the open darkness. Master would be so displeased. He would be so angry, but I can’t help it. I am only a young Damnling. Loyal, but very young. I reach down and grab the handful of exhausted sparklers the children dropped and shove them into my mouth with glee. They are like candy, sweet as I crunch them nosily - much better than any human blood.

Master doesn’t understand. I don’t think Master was ever young.