Celebrating Women

I will be a vendor at the Celebrating Women event in Prince George’s County at Marietta House Museum. I will have my novel and coloring book available.

Red August copies are $14.95, the coloring book is $8.99 – descriptions and photos at the end of this post.

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I’m lucky enough to know two other fantastic area women artists who will also be vending at the event, Bridget of BDevlinDesigns, and Mary of Scribbles In Stitches.

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The event is meant to showcase the talents of women artists and entrepreneurs.

From the website event page:

September 17th – 11am-6pm

Celebrate women of many talents – artists, and entrepreneurs.  Shop female owned food, wine and craft vendors.  View artists’ demonstrations and enjoy readings, plays, music and more. $5 per person entry – children 5 and under are free.

Please come by and support area artists and businesses!

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Red August Description.

What if you found out that you were descended from a long line of clandestine fighters, and that your family was still at war? Or that the love of your life was something other than human? August Archer thinks she’s a normal teenage girl—even though she has been having disturbing and erotic dreams about wolves lately. Still grieving over the loss of her bookish, charming father, and wondering over his final gift of a red hooded cloak, August is uprooted from her New York City apartment to a tiny town in Maryland, and the rambling Victorian house where he grew up. There she meets a wise woman with a gift for herbal medicine, the gentle old man who keeps the house in repair and the grounds thriving, and her new neighbor: an enigmatic, irresistibly fascinating man who refuses to talk to her, yet who seems to know her better than she knows herself, and fuels her most intense romantic fantasies. But it’s when August begins to coax her feisty Scottish grandmother out of her self-imposed catatonia that a strange tale of werewolves and hunters emerges—one in which the man of her dreams may be her family’s oldest enemy—in this modern-day telling of the Red Riding Hood story.

 

Raven Heights Radio – Podcasting Adventures

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Sooooo…

Next month I am meeting with epically cool Program Director for Raven Heights Radio, Erica Winter.  She also happens to be the on-air personality and we will be chatting about Red August, fairy tales and feminism.  There is plenty to say about the writing process or the story itself, so who knows what paths we may find ourselves winding down?

This past year has been all about me stretching outside of my comfort zone.  I probably come across as total extrovert to a lot of people, but I am actually a pretty equal mix of extrovert and introvert, which in my case manifests in terrible fright of public speaking.  Since Erica is so great, I think Raven Heights is going to be a great way to kick off public speaking about my book.

I sometimes wonder if I should even talk about being nervous – since it shows a lack of confidence.  But I’ve never been much for masks and games – I try to be authentic.  I’ve found it more rewarding to connect with people by admitting when I’m nervous or feeling vulnerable.  It serves as both as a way to measure my growth and to let others who feel the same way know they are not alone.

I’m mostly excited to be doing new things and learning how to be comfortable talking about my work in a public way.  I’ve always blogged about it, but blogging is writing and it seems like it has an added layer of protection from the public somehow.  Maybe somebody can articulate why doing a podcast with somebody is different than writing in my blog about it.

Anyway – I will let you know when the podcast is complete or you can watch for it and listen to other podcasts at Raven Heights Radio.

You can also follow Raven Heights on their Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/RavenHeightsRadio?fref=ts

 

 

Inheritance

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Philyra rests next to the books on the table, where she isn’t supposed to be.

I’m a divorced woman who spent a majority of her 20 year relationship with her ex-husband at home with her children.  When my marriage came to an end I felt vulnerable, financially.  I felt broken, emotionally.  This is a story told over and over again by women.  It’s nothing new or shocking, even if some of the details are. It’s a story of betrayal and low self-esteem.  Of things happening I wished I could change, but later was glad they didn’t.  It’s nothing thousands of women don’t go through each year, some to a greater and lesser extent.  That fact used to make me feel like a stupid statistic.  Like I’d fallen into a foreseeable trap by my own foolishness.  I see it differently now.  Instead, I feel a part of something as though that shared pain brings me closer to a sisterhood.  It means I’m not alone.

I’ve always been a feminist and an advocate for women, in part because I have daughters and in part because of my own history as a victim of various types of abuses.  And despite feeling close to all women sometimes, at other times I feel the distance, too.  Yet, I’m not always aware of it when I’m feeling disconnected.  Probably because I can be introverted in long stretches.  I think I was feeling inside my own bubble when I picked up two books in a row that re-focused my feeling of being connected to women out there in the world.  Not just the ones alive today, but all those who have ever lived.  I feel my place in the universe, one planet among galaxies of women.  With my own gravity.  With my own landscape of barren deserts and rich ecosystems green with life and beauty.  I have my own orbit and satellites in orbit around me, as well.

It started off with checking out The Red Tent by Anita Diamant from the library on my Kindle.  You can read my Good Reads review of The Red Tent HERE.  By the time I finished that, I was lucky enough that Wild by Cheryl Strayed had become available to check out.  You can read my Good Reads review of Wild HERE.

Just a couple of days after I finished Wild I decided to order it and The Red Tent as gifts for my daughters.  Paper versions.  Objects they can hold in their hands and feel the paper under their fingertips as they flip each page.  A sort of prayer that connects them to all the things that make them sisters, not just with each other, but all other women.  And probably a memory years from now when I’m gone, of what has gone before them and what they want to do to affect what comes after them.  To remind them of their connection to this world.  And also, that they don’t need to fall apart when I die.

This is the most valuable inheritance I have for them.  I lay in bed last night imaging the letters I would write to my daughters to accompany these gifts.  Should I share valuable (to me) bits of advice?  Should I apologize for my shortcomings as a mother?  I composed until I fell asleep and woke up to sunbeams on the bed with my cat laying next to me.  And I thought about Dinah in Egypt and her first experiences with cats.  Coincidentally, my cat, Kali, is Egyptian and from a long line of sacred females, as well.

Kali the Abyssinian napping in the sunbeams on my bed.

Kali the Abyssinian napping in the sunbeams on my bed.