Today is my baby’s birthday.  I use the term “baby” loosely.  He married the love of his life last year.  So, now it’s her turn to make his birthday breakfast.  None the less, I found myself pulling out the Happy Birthday sign that we’ve used every year, for each of our birthdays since the kids were born, and hanging in its usual place of honor were the family gathers in the kitchen.  Gone are the days of bedtime stories, forts in the backyard, and pancakes shaped like animals….at least until the next generation.  <g>

Which had me thinking about traditions – and perhaps more specifically, how they evolve as our lives evolve.  Holiday traditions are a given.  When we first were married, Christmas always involved a large family gathering at my husband’s grandmother’s place – a beautiful brick home that her father had built and that reigned supreme for four generations.  Since her passing, the family has taken to celebrating Christmas Day at our house.  The location might have changed, but the spirit remains the same;  a big dinner, a roaring fire, Christmas carols on the stereo, pecan pie, stacks of presents under the tree, our favorite uncle playing Santa, decorations tucked into every nook and cranny.

Then there are those annual family gatherings on the Tennessee River; fishing, swimming, cruising, eating, fishing, playing in the water, eating, fishing…..you get the idea.  <g>

But it’s the “other” traditions I’m thinking of today, like the almost right-of-passage camping trips to the “trout streams” our men take, or the annual target practice Thanksgiving weekend (and you thought Black Friday was a big deal <g>)… and the Scrabble tournaments.  Don’t forget the Scrabble!  As our family grows and changes I wonder how many of these familiar, family-defining traditions will remain.

Will my future granddaughter wear the opera pearls on her wedding day that her mother, grandmother, and several great-grandmothers wore before her?  Will my future grandson love the wild outdoors with the same passion as his father, grandfather and great-grandfathers did?  I hope so.  But I also look forward to the unique and special traditions those future generations will bring.

Kimberly Brock is a former actor, special needs educator, and native to the north Georgia foothills. Her debut novel, The River Witch, a southern mystical work set against the backdrop of the Appalachian foothills and the Sea Islands, spins a poignant tale of characters who reckon with histories replete with regret and secrets, struggling to find home in an unpredictable world. Her work has appeared in the anthologies “Summer in Mossy Creek” and “Sweeter Than Tea.” She spends much of her non-writing time enjoying her husband and three children, and encouraging storytelling in all its many forms. Kimberly lives north of Atlanta, where she’s made her home for the last eight years. To learn more, visit her website at kimberlybrockbooks.com  You can also like her on FB, follow her on TW @kimberlydbrock, and find her at Good Reads, Amazon & BN!  She’s now on Net Galley if you want to leave a review!

1)      What is a River Witch?

There are so many different interpretations, even within the novel. There have always been tales of women who turned into mermaids or serpents or sirens. I started with those kinds of stories in mind, but was far into the writing of The River Witch before I realized I’d incorporated the myth of Melusine, a cursed maiden living on a lost island who took the shape of a serpent when bathing. Think of the Starbuck’s logo. But I leave it up to the reader to decide who they think the River Witch might be in this story, and what they think that means.

2)      Was there any particular inspiration for this story, or did it just “come” to you?

I read this article about a couple of women who decided to open a pumpkin farm. The pictures were gorgeous. Everywhere, there was this beautiful, round, sumptuous fruit; such a compelling illustration of women and fertility and sustenance. I started sketching scenes of a woman longing for her childhood home and music and a bountiful table. This was Roslyn. Then I saw another report showing people floating down a river inside giant pumpkin and ten-year-old Damascus started talking to me.

3)      What did it feel like to finally hold your book in your hands? 

Thrilled! It took a few hours for me to believe it had actually happened and then I felt light-headed and giddy. I kept petting the cover! Oh, how I love that cover! But then, holding the book, I realized I was going to have to put it on a shelf and let it fend for itself. I hope readers will receive THE RIVER WITCH with the tenderness with which it was written and find something that moves them in this gentle story.

Kim has included a special treat – a recipe from one of the characters in her novel:

FOR THE CAKE:

Have all the ingredients at room temperature. Position rack in the lower third of an oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour the loaf pan; tap out excess flour.

To make the cake, over a sheet of waxed paper, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves; set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the flat beater, beat the butter on medium speed until cream and smooth, about a minute. Add the sugar and continue beating until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes, stopping the mixer occasionally to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the eggs a little at a time, beating well after each addition.

Reduce the speed to low and add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the pumpkin mixture and beginning and ending with the flour. Beat each addition just until incorporated, stopping the mixer occasionally to scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, spreading evenly. Bake until the cake begins to pull away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 65 to 70 minutes. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let the cake cool in the pan for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the glaze: In a small saucepan over medium heat, stir together the sugar, cinnamon, water and lemon juice and bring just to a simmer, about 2 minutes. Remove from the heat.

Tap the loaf pan gently on a work surface to loosen the cake. Set the rack over the pan, invert the pan onto the rack and lift off the pan. Place the rack over a sheet of wax paper. Using a pastry brush, brush the warm cake with the glaze. Let the cake cool completely, at least 2 hours, before serving.

Serves 8 to 10.

Inside a seed, there is a miracle…

You must search for the perfect spot to plant your seed, and then you can’t forget about it. Care for it every day without fail. You can’t be hasty. You can’t be careless. Once you plant your seed, it will have to make the most of your choices. Seeds need warmth, light and water to survive. They grow best in soil that has something to give, but not so rich that the seed doesn’t have to work at making something of itself. When the first little sprout appears, it will demand your protection. It will scare you to death, how easy it can be squashed. But when everything seems to work against you, when the world tries to kill your vine and the hungry things come, remember a good fight makes the strongest fruit. Watch over what you’ve planted. Treasure it and it will grow. And most important of all, don’t be afraid to cut deep and cut loose when things

ripen.. Don’t be a girl who lets her gifts rot on a tough old vine…

Kim will be giving away different recipes for her readers to share.  So be sure to check out her website to see where she’ll be next.  Be sure to take a picture if you prepare one of her recipes and she may feature it on her site!

He stood in a dark corner, partially hidden by shadows, covered in a fine layer of dust, perfectly still, impervious to the chaos and clamor.  Somber, deep-set eyes stared out from a face lined and carved with age, and skill from a master’s hand.   Strong, thick fingers cradle the bowl of a pipe, and a heavy mantle of beads and feathers drape low to brush against his worn and weary moccasins.  If you lean close you can almost hear him whisper some profound wisdom hard won and long-sought, but only understood by the truly discerning.

“Sold! To bidder #522”

Four little words and all this rough hewn magic and masculinity had just become our newest member of the family.  The wooden Indian my husband had always talked about owning, searched for at every craft festival and antique market, envisioned as the perfect, crowning touch to our little cabin in the woods, had finally come home.

What a night.  The tension was high and the excitement higher as a bidding war broke out, but years of vision and determination saw him through.  With his goal so close, there would be no backing down.

So now this 6’ Wise Man greets me every morning as I make my way down the stairs – a constant, very solid reminder that dreams can and do come true.  And sometimes, if I listen closely as I walk by, I swear I can hear him whisper that if I keep my eye on the prize and my wits about me, remain vigilant, and above all, am prepared to go the distance, magic will happen.

So what about you?  Any long sought goals achieved recently?  Any tangible reminders of the prize waiting for you?

By Darcy Crowder

The candy’s gone, unless you have better will power than I do, or not as many kids roaming the house, that stunning bouquet of flowers is starting to wilt and your night on the town is now just a pleasant memory, that is until you get to relive it as you pay the credit card bill.  So what now?

Where are you going to find romance today?  Tomorrow?  Next week?

Romance is all around you, 365 days of the year, you just have to dust off those rose-colored glasses and look for it – sometimes, maybe, be willing to expand on the traditional romance equals hearts, flowers, passion, definition.  It is, after all, a new millennium.

Take my white knight, for instance.  Every day he puts on his battle armor of fine, pressed business attire, hops into his trusty gas efficient vehicle and fights his way into downtown Atlanta traffic, all in a day’s work to provide a comfortable, safe environment for his family.

That’s not romance, you say.

Well, what about on the weekends when he drives my car and fills it up with gas, so I don’t have to.  Or brings firewood up from the woodshed so I don’t have to tromp down there by myself at night or face off with spiders.  Or how about when he washes the dinner dishes the next morning because we got to bed late and he knows I didn’t sleep well and hate to wake up to a messy kitchen.

Well, maybe that’s sort of romantic, in a helpful kinda way.

Okay.  How about when he slides over in bed on cold winter nights so I can lay in the “warm spot” and tolerates my freezing toes hovering just centimeters away.  Or how, after 26 years, he still holds my hand when we drive around in the car.  Or is known to sweep me up in a waltz around the kitchen as we fix dinner because a favorite song came on.  Or how about those times when for no reason at all, no holiday, no birthday, just an ordinary day, he stops me in the hallway and tells me I’m beautiful.

Yeah.  Now that’s romantic.

So tell me, where do you find romance?

We’ve all been there, plugging along at our WIP (work in progress) then life interrupts – don’tcha just hate that? – and when we finally get back to it, there’s something missing. The spark, the excitement, dare I say JOY, has just evaporated.  Now the phrase work in progress has taken on a whole new meaning.

It’s time to take the muse on a play date.

So often, as writers, we hear about refilling the creativity well.  Ideas abound:  Read a good book.  Take a long drive.  Go shopping with a friend.  Get your hair or nails done.  Get a massage.  Give your muse a fun-filled day and she will
give you back the JOY in your WIP tenfold.

Recently, I took an excursion that not only refilled the well, it had my muse practically giddy with excitement as ideas and new, fully-fleshed scenes rushed to my fingertips faster than I could write!  Let me pause here to say that I LOVE
waterfalls.  I’ve made it a personal goal to visit all of them in the state of Georgia, and any others I hear about when I’m traveling.  So, it’s no wonder that I
have a river with a notable waterfall in my current book.

This past November I had the opportunity to hike deep into the Appalachians to find a little known waterfall.  There were no hiking trails, maps or signs to point the way.  You had to have someone who’d been there before guide you.
Seriously.  People have gotten lost trying to find it.  Not only did we find this amazing waterfall.  Guess who was sitting right at the top, waving madly and grinning from ear to ear.  You’re right. My muse.

Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?  I didn’t need a day of shopping to help me
get back that loving feeling, I needed to see a part of my story come to life!  Sights, sounds, smells, sensations coursed through me with such power that for a minute there I really was my heroine.  Scenes, dialogue, descriptions became so clear.  It really was an awesome experience.  JOY had found its way back into my writing.

So tell me, what would you do, if given the chance, to refill the well with regard to your current wip?  What are your characters doing or how are they living, that you could experience somehow and find new inspiration?

In the spirit of celebrating our third anniversary this month, one lucky commenter will receive  a $10.00 Starbucks gift card.

Okay, this is what happens when deadlines sneak up on you, the house is full of the sights and sounds of Christmas and you finally had the chance to watch one of this summer’s most anticipated movies.

A Swashbuckling Christmas

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas, all snug in her house
A writer was typing, not clicking a mouse;
Queries were sent over e-mail with care,
In hopes that a contract soon would be there.

The muses were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of romance danced in her head;
The puppy so sweet, and the kitten so fat,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the drive there arouse such a clatter,
She sprang from her desk to see what was the matter.

She threw on her bathrobe and tied up the sash,
To the front door she flew like a flash.
The moonlight through tree tops on the new-fallen snow
Gave the ambiance of candlelight to objects below,
When what to her startled gaze should appear,
But a swaggering pirate – with an eight-pack.  Oh, dear!

With a smoldering gaze, so seductive, so deep,
She knew in a moment he was the hero to seek.
Sexier than chocolate, and dark more than sweet
All rippling muscle, from his head to his feet;

Hey, Carol! Hey, Susan! Hey, Maxine and Tami!
Oh, Deb! Oh, Sia! Oh, Linsey and Sandy!
Would her blog sisters ever believe her good fortune?
This was a Christmas miracle of epic proportion!

His eyes – how mysterious! His dreadlocks how long!
His biceps were bulging, and his thighs looked so strong!
His lips so enticing, curved up in a smile
He was the best-looking scruff she had seen in a while;
The stem of a rose he held tight in his teeth,
A bandana encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a tanned face and tight sculpted abs,
So ripped and so chiseled like in Calvin Cline ads.
Both alpha and beta, a right sexy beast,
And she gasped when she saw him, not scared in the least;
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Had her thoughts drifting upward; to her warm, cozy bed.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his task,
He knew what she needed without having to ask.
Laying his palm on the curve of her cheek,
He planted one on her before she could speak;
Taking his hand, she drew him inside,
For a cup of hot cocoa and a swashbuckling good time.

She heard him exclaim, as their romance took flight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

In the spirit of Thanksgiving next week, I thought I’d share some of the things I’m most thankful for this holiday – and every day.

-          I’m thankful my God is as forgiving as He is loving.

-          I’m thankful to live in the land of the Free and the home of the Brave.

-          I’m thankful I have a roof over my head, enough food to eat, clean water to drink and warm clothes for the winter.  Not everyone does.

-          I’m thankful for my husband, soul-mate and best friend.  He knows all my secrets, all my foibles and fears, and loves me anyway.

-          I’m thankful for my children, who grew up to be pretty amazing adults despite my lack of instruction manual.

-          I’m thankful for my health, and the health of my family.

-          I’m thankful for my friends; wise, caring women who make the journey all the more sweet.

I’ll leave you with a few amazing quotes on thankfulness.

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.
– Melody Beattie

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.
– Albert Schweitzer

There is a calmness to a life lived in Gratitude, a quiet joy.

– Ralph H. Blum

Not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our thanksgiving. 

- W.T. Purkiser

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. 

- Thornton Wilder

It’s a troublesome world.  All the people who’re in it are troubled with troubles almost every minute.  You ought to be thankful, a whole heaping lot, for the places and people you’re lucky you’re not.  

-  Dr. Seuss

So take a minute to stop and share.  What you are most grateful for this holiday?

Congratulations, Marilyn!

Anyone who knows me well can tell you autumn is my favorite time of year.  I absolutely LOVE watching the trees show off their vibrant shades of yellow, crimson, gold and amber.  Love the way the crisp mountain air sneaks up on you, turning patches of sunlight in the yard into cozy, havens of warmth.   And downright cold nights bring on promises of evenings gathered near the fireplace drinking cocoa and reading a favorite book.

I can’t wait to pull out my favorite sweaters and boots, or bake my first pumpkin pie of the season.  I start lighting spice and apple scented candles throughout the house, and place clusters of yellow mums along the front porch.  The Christmas list is started, and family favorites like zucchini, ginger, and pumpkin breads seem to continuously flow from the oven.  Heavy, downy lap blankets find their way onto the couch, and the freezer gets stocked with pumpkin ice-cream.  Anyone here tried a pumpkin spice mocha latte?  Heaven.  Absolute heaven!

All this is just the beginning….  The next few months are a well-spring of family gatherings as we celebrate several birthdays and the two most-loved holidays of the year; Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Yes, my enthusiasm for autumn knows no bounds.

And yes, it’s all a little bit Normal Rockwell – but that’s what appeals to me – hearth and home, friends and family.  It’s what I live.  And what I write.  Finding who you are and where you belong, sometimes in the most powerful and unexpected ways – fate whispers softly.

This autumn is particularly special to me because my first short story (about a man who decides fate may have indeed been on his side) will be included in, Homecoming In Mossy Creek, by BelleBooks, November 2011, volume 8 in the Mossy Creek Hometown Series.  The book takes place in the autumn, during homecoming week in Mossy Creek, as the town celebrates the groundbreaking of their new high school stadium.  Secrets, snooping and general hijinks ensue!

I can’t wait to hold my first copy in my hand!

So, tell me, what do you love about autumn?  Favorite foods?  Activities?  Share and be entered into a drawing for a Starbucks gift card, because a life without Pumpkin Spice Mocha Lattes is a life without flavor!