Both: 3
Raven: While I agree with you all on giving up cheese over chocolate, I’m surprised at how many of us would do that! Chocoholics unite!
Joy: I disagree and say cheese! Okay, all my fellow Wisconsinites, don’t hunt me down and smear cheese all over my car because I’m a traitor.
Gwendolyn: Asking me to choose between cheese or chocolate is cruel and unusual. I love chocolate and triple X sharp cheddar. Those are gifts from the gods! Can I trade back and forth? Only have chocolate one week, cheese the next? If push came to shove… I guess I would choose to keep cheese because I cover everything I can with it! I’d give up chocolate.
H.M.: Cheese, but I’d be none too happy. I feel like I might be violent without chocolate in my life.
Raven: Same. Especially during a pandemic where there’s no toilet paper, flour, or yeast to be found anywhere.
Melinda: I’d ditch cheese, too. I had to give it up years ago because of digestive issues. Pass the chocolate, please, but make sure it’s the dark one.
Majanka: Such a tough one. I love both! But I would have to say chocolate, because imagining spaghetti or lasagna without cheese is impossible.
A.R.: Mmmm…good question. I’m going to say chocolate. I actually gave it up for almost two years. I love cheese more I think.
Raven: Okay, how in the world can you live with giving up both?
Alesha: Me. I work hard to eat healthy!
Raven: That you do! I know Alesha listens to music while working out at the gym, but what about music when writing? Do you listen or no? I know some authors have entire playlists published in their books.
Write with music: 10
Write without music: 3
Both / It depends: 8
Anela: I play songs with certain moods before writing to get my head in the right place. During writing, I need silence. Or a YouTube playback of thunderstorms.
Devorah: I write with music, specifically jazz fusion instrumentals for white noise.
Tiffany: Depends on what I’m writing as sometimes I find music too distracting, especially if it’s music with lyrics. Although I do sometimes listen to instrumental music if I need to get in the mood for a sad or action-packed scene.
Majanka: Without music. I can’t concentrate when doing two things at once.
Toasha: Me either.
Melinda: I write with music that has no words because I focus better with a soundtrack for the scene I’m writing.
Barbara: Both, really. I have favorite songs that set the mood for what I want to write that day. Sometimes, I sit down in a perfectly quiet house (the kids are grown and off on their own now) and write until I’m exhausted. I love music so very much! There is always something playing in my head anyway, sometimes even in my dreams, so whether or not there is music playing in the room doesn’t really matter. Music and writing will always be a part of my life.
Raven: I’m similar to Tiffany and Barbara most of the time, though if I’m struggling with a scene, I need quiet. I have playlists by mood (sad, celebration, action/adventure, fighting, angry, etc.) that I play so that the music matches the mood of the scene I’m writing. 99% of the music I write to is from movie or video game soundtracks because otherwise, I’ll sing along if it has lyrics. Speaking of movies…
Alesha: Uh, oh. Are we going to have to pick our favorite movie, because you’ve already tortured us with books.
Lee: Agreed! Down with the favorite movie question!
Raven: I’m not asking that, but I am asking a challenging question. If your life was a movie, what movie would it be?
Leah: That’s easy! National Velvet.
Anela: The Neverending Story. I’m so that kid. Head in the clouds, feet definitely not on the ground.
C.S.: It would be an artistic, indie one that would develop a cult following until my already outdated opinions on things would get me canceled.
Toasha: Too soon! #RIPFirefly
Devorah: I don’t go to the movies, so it’s hard to say.
Barbara: Oh, wow. I truly have no idea! But with my luck, I’d end up in some sci-fi or horror flick where everyone dies… ACK!
William: The World According to Garp. Definitely.
A.R.: Ha! Practical Magic. I get myself into some trouble at times, but I always find a way to work things out.
Majanka: At the moment, I’m afraid it would be a little like the movie Contagion, with the virus outbreak wrecking through the world.
Raven: I could see that considering the movie Outbreak is currently trending on Netflix. Eek, this panel wasn’t supposed to turn dark here. Let’s talk about writing again. Describe your writing style in three or fewer words.
Tiffany: A chaotic mess. That’s how it feels at the moment as I’m working on a new book for an entirely new epic fantasy series which is very different from anything else I’ve written.
Lee: Dragons! Magic! YA!
C.S.: Musical stabbing.
Stephen: Character over glamor.
William: Ever-changing.
Melinda: Sometimes snarky.
Raven: I was going to say that! Well, I was going to say: snarky, wry, and thought-provoking.
Anela: Lyricism with sass.
Raven: Love it. Though if I were a romance writer, I’d totally steal that and say “lyricism with ass.” Sorry, that’s my snark poking through. Bad moderator. Bad, bad!
Raven: This brings us to the end of our panel. Any last thoughts or comments for the readers? Perhaps where they can find more information about you?
H.M.: I’m prolific and have tried writing everything from fantasty/sci-fi to graphic novels to political coloring books. So if they enjoy that stuff, they can go to my website: www.hmjones.net.
Leah: If readers enjoy poetic, evocative, and flavorful writing, they can find me at: www.Ghost-Stalkers.com and at my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/leah.vandinther
Devorah: I write to explore the answer to the question “What if this happened?” Readers can join me to find the answers at https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B006L9BJAO
Joy: I’m a pharmacist, zoo manager, mother, wife, and writer of romantic paranormal fiction, not in order of importance. Come find out more at: http://www.joynellschultz.com
Barbara: Glad you asked! I am presently writing a Shared Setting, a world of my own making which I am sharing with several other writers, (Gwendolyn Woodschild, Leah W. Van Dinther, Ed Greenwood) who are contributing fabulous ideas to this world at large. We each write our own stories within that world, but frequently share our characters, writing them into the other author’s stories and sharing a cameo/scene/chapter where we choose. It’s marvelous! Our world is an urban, very paranormal setting that started with a simple premise: What do you do when you discover ghosts are real? Then I added magic and ‘what if’s’ and characters and clues and mysteries and… well, you get the idea. You can find us at www.Ghost-Stalkers.com!
Majanka: If you like story-oriented writing, check me out on my website, http://majankaverstraete.com
A.R.: I’m a small town girl trying to make it in the big wide world. Find out whether I’m successful at arjohnstonauthor.wordpress.com.
C.S.: For more information and exclusive content and surprises, find me at http://www.Ko-fi.com/writercsjohnson or https://www.subscribestar.com/c-s-johnson.
Stephen: You can go to https://swallaceworks.com for my primary website, follow me on twitter at https://twitter.com/wallace_author.
Tiffany: I don’t eat cheese much and I don’t like chocolate, but I’m still awesome. Check out my website www.tiffanyshand.com.
William: I am a day dreamer and world builder who loves cats. Join me at: www.kiltedfiend.com.
Melinda: I take long walks with my fictional characters. Join us on the path at https://melindakucsera.com/the-curse-breaker-saga/.
C.K.: I love to write dragon battles, and I drink far too much coff
ee. Join me at www.CKRieke.com.
Anela: My newsletters always start with a Fun Fact about me (my attempt to be less introverted) and the more I do them, the more I realize I’m…kinda odd? But in a fun way. If that sounds fun, you can find me on my blog: amidtheimaginary.wordpress.com Or via my monthly newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cNQ3iH
Raven: That’s it for us. We hope you enjoy reading the conclusions of our stories. Make sure you check out our other works and spread the word about these if you enjoyed them! Oh, you can find me, the writer with the dragon tattoo, at www.ravenoak.net. Links to social media and newsletters are there as well.
Enjoy!
Dreams of Valonde
Toasha Jiordano
Previously, in Portals of Valonde, James and Margaret were torn apart by wayward portals, leading them both into the mouths of a fierce dragon. While fighting their way through the evil King Raynor’s lair, their paths crossed in the most tragic of ways.
Now, in Dreams of Valonde, James finds himself alone in the strange new world, raising his lad without the help of his dearly departed wife. When neither can shake strange dreams of magic and dragons, James begins to wonder what’s hiding behind his hazy memories of his wife’s death.
Toasha Jiordano
Dragons * Swords * Magic * Dreams
Alone and grieved, James must find a way to raise his son without his beloved Margaret. It’s been two years since the cancer took her, and it never gets easier.
When rumors start going around town about his boy being touched in the head, going on about dragons and magic, James begins to wonder. Is the boy dreaming of the wondrous place he calls Valonde, too?
Chapter One
James rolled over and let his fingers trace the outline of Margaret’s pillow. Long since cold, it didn’t even smell like her anymore. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb it, to move to the middle of the bed.
Mornings were the worst. He’d wake some days thinking she was still here, until the emptiness set in. Her side of the bed. Her side of the closet. His chest.
This morning was particularly bad. He’d had the dream again. James never could fully remember, not while awake anyway. He was left with flashes of pain, heat, metal, and blood. Then Margaret’s anguished face.
When he went back to the dream, it all rushed in on him. But once awake, it faded like mist.
Mist. There was that word again. It always made his skin crawl.
James wanted to go back to sleep, to find her again in his nightmare, but he heard the lad in the kitchen. If he didn’t hurry, there would be milk all over the table.
“Ready fer yer math test?” he asked Jim a few minutes later, running his fingers through his son’s bushy blonde hair like a comb.
Two years she’d been gone and the lad refused to cut his hair since. He’d confided in James once, said he’d been having these dreams about her. He’d rescue her from dragons or some other fanciful beast one day, and in the dream he always had long hair.
Dr. Parnacky had warned James about letting the lad dwell in fantasies too long. But James knew the allure of that dream world, how real it all felt to be near her again. Cancer wasn’t a dragon, no. But they weren’t ready to live in a reality without her. Not yet.
Chapter Two
Jim wiped his eyes and padded down the hallway, feeling the bottoms of the pictures hanging on the wall. When he got to the last one, the large Sears family portrait of his Ma holding him as a baby, he took three steps to the left and opened the refrigerator door.
He knew the way by heart now. He had to. So many mornings he woke up before daylight and made his own breakfast so his Da could stay in bed a little longer. His eyes burned worse than usual today. He must have been crying in his sleep again.
The dreams haunted him. So many nights spent chasing dragons...or fleeing them, all in a desperate attempt to save her. Sometimes he was weak and cried like a little kid. Most nights he fought to the death and woke up screaming. Not once, in the two years since she’d been taken, had he ever been strong enough or brave enough to save her.
In his spare time, between school and helping in the fields, Jim taught himself to carve wood. Then, when he learned just enough for what he needed, he made himself a sword. At first, he wasn’t sure why. Nothing told him to, or even how to, but somehow he knew in his heart it was the right thing. When the time came, he and Ridire-solas would be ready.
“You ready for that math test?” his Da asked, ruffling his hair. Jim didn’t answer. He never did. He knew Da only asked because that’s the sort of thing parents did. From the red around Da’s eyes, Jim could tell he’d dreamt of her too, though it wasn’t something they were allowed to speak of.
Jim learned that in the first days after she was gone. When they told him she’d died of cancer, but he knew better. He saw it take her. But they all just frowned and patted his head and whispered among themselves.
Once, right after it happened, Jim could have sworn his Da believed him. There was a spark of remembering behind his bloodshot eyes, or maybe it was just hope. The need for some other truth besides what they had to feel every day with her gone.
Then, not long after, Dr. Parnacky had a long talk with Da in the kitchen. They set up Ma’s new birthday television set especially for him and turned it up real loud to keep him from hearing them. But he heard enough. He heard the threat of some place called a sanitarium and words like electric shock. When he got old enough, he looked the words up in the school library and found out they really were as scary as they’d sounded that day.
In the end, Dr. Parnacky came out of the kitchen smiling that too big smile that grown-ups always gave him now. He patted Jim’s head and told him to “‘hang in there, sport’ and left. Da took much longer to come out. He sniffed like he had a cold but you don’t get colds in the summer. Jim knew better.
They had a long talk about what was real and what was not real and what was acceptable to talk about in public anymore. Jim knew from that day forward it was all up to him.
So he practiced every day, swinging Ridire-solas until his arms wanted to fall off. Day and night, rain or shine, Jim made himself train in every type of weather. He needed to be ready for anything. Sometimes, he even took the sword to school so he could practice jumping and climbing and balancing at recess, all with Ridire-solas strapped to his back or held between his teeth.
This year, though, Mrs. Rancik made it clear she would not put up with such nonsense. But Jim couldn’t help himself. He still snuck the sword on the school bus, under his shirt. He had to be ready for anything.
He never knew when the next dragon would appear out of a ball of light, but he knew he would be waiting.
Chapter Three
James squeezed the plow handles, begging his sweaty palms not to slip. For the past two years, every time he came near this spot of land, his body reacted in the same way. Pure terror was the only way he could describe it to Dr. Parnacky. It started in his chest and worked its way down through his fingers and toes. His breath caught in his lungs and refused to move again until he crossed the entire field.
He’d gotten so bad lately, he had stopped plowing that few acres completely. The younger farmhands covered the area for him. But now, the whole crew had come down with some strange ailment. What few men he had left were tending the cattle, leaving Jim this blasted crop to till.
James shook out his hands, wiped them on his pants leg, and reset his grip. He ignored the tremors in both. Dr. Parnacky assured him it was a temporary response to grief, but – Odin bless him for thinking this – it had been two years already and the shakes had not let up. Besides, James had seen this sort of thing before. Men home from war, a shadow of their former selves. ‘Nothin’ behind the eyes’ it was whispered.
But why? Why him? Why here? Why did it feel like the ground wanted to swallow him up on this one plot of land?
“Get yer head outta yer arse, James,” he told himself. The back forty weren’t gonna till itself.
/> For the next two hours, James pushed himself to forget. Forget the ache in his chest as if his lungs cried for air. Forget the ache in his whole body as it cried for her. Forget that the dreams always made this part of the day harder. Was it just his imagination or did the land want him more on the days he dreamt of her?
“Hogwash!” he said, louder this time. “Snap out of it.”
James looked around, self-conscious, to make sure none of his men was watching him lose it. To his horror, they were. Everywhere he turned, eyes followed. How loud had he gotten? Another side effect of this grief Dr. Parnacky warned him of. He often lived out these intense fantasies. Doc was careful never to call them flashbacks, as they truly felt to James. Call them whatever ye like, he often came to screaming or swinging an invisible sword at imaginary monsters.
Still, the men stood in their dungarees, watching and whispering like a gaggle of housewives.
James searched the horizon for something, anything, that could be the cause of their yammering besides him.
Across the way, back toward the row of small farmhouses, came a rumble of fog and dust. Something kicked up the soil good, and it was coming his way.
His first instinct was to fight, draw that invisible sword and give this beast the whatfor. But its loud roar became the familiar growl of an engine. The dust swirled around four tires as Wilfred’s truck bounded over the hill.
James watched in awe as Carolyn barreled through the fields he’d just plowed. She slammed the truck in park and stuck her head out the half-closed window.
“Come quick!” She waved for James to drop the plow. “The school’s called. Something happened with Jim!”
James took one look at her wide scared eyes and ran to the passenger door.
Chapter Four
Forgotten Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 3) Page 2