She sighed, then whispered, “I guess this means I’m home.”
DEDICATION
For Sophie, my first juvenile fan, now a young woman, who declared Lisen has a soul.
And for all her fourteen-year-old counterparts.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
More than half a lifetime spent in Garla with Lisen, once Ann, brings a great many supporters to the proverbial table. If I miss anyone, forgive me. I’ve tried hard to remember to send everyone their invitation.
For the merciless but loving criticism and the willingness to go through it all thrice so I could get it right, my gratitude and blessings to the women and men of the Joslyn Center Wednesday morning writing group. You never failed to catch the clichés, question unclear sources in the dialogue and remind me that long, convoluted sentences do not a great writer make.
For the multiple computers, for the patience to deal with me through computer crisis after computer crisis and especially for unfailing faith from the very beginning of the process to his death, my father, Louis St. Martin.
For that Thursday night—decades ago now—the Grand Marnier and the advice which motivated the flat Ann into the multidimensional Lisen, Beth Kline Schneiderman.
For nursing me through multiple emotional challenges and listening as Lisen evolved, Sara Truitt.
For telling me I’m brilliant and that my trilogy is better than The Hunger Games (which I doubt but accept anyway), Daniella Recavarren.
For saying, “Don’t tell me. I want to read it,” Susan Alexander. Flandari’s Heirs, from whose ashes Fractured rose, was and forever will be yours.
For teaching me long before I would believe it that writing could feel good, Kit Cameron.
For my first review ever, Janet Retseck.
For encouragement and support throughout the years, all my writing classmates whose names I’ve lost in memory but whose influence remains inviolate; all the Women Who Write who have since scattered in the wind that woos; Ellen Brown; Anita Russell.
For just generally being my friends and beloved family, Sharon Best, Susan Johnson, Jo Ann Loeb, Laura Saint Martin, Sandra St. Martin Wurtsmith, Beverly Sloane, Deb Spittle and Kym Valadez.
For inspiration, and in no particular order, John Lennon, Harlan Ellison, George Lucas, Frank Herbert, Anthony Burgess, J.K. Rowling and Brian Jones.
For the soundtracks, John Williams, Ludwig van Beethoven and Peter Gabriel.
My thanks to all for contributions the worth of which few, if any, of you understood at the time.
MAP OF GARLA
For a clearer copy of the map of Garla, go to the author’s web site at http://dhartstmartin.weebly.com/links-and-downloads.html and click on “Map of Garla PDF File.” You can use the image from there for reference, or you have the author’s permission to download it to your computer or your device.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D. Hart St. Martin wanted to grow up to be Peter Pan. When she realized this was impossible, she decided to write a story for the fourteen-year-old inside her soul. After over thirty years, dozens of rewrites and three reboots of the fundamentals of the tale in an effort to get it right, she finally completed the first book in the Lisen of Solsta trilogy to that fourteen-year-old’s grateful satisfaction.
Today she lives in a small college community in Southern California and works at home as a radiology transcriptionist. She is owned by three cats—Maximillian Proudfoot Jones, Leo Mellowfellow and Calypso Malone, all of whom appreciate her abject humility in their supreme presence.
For more information about Lisen of Solsta and for updates and publication information, please visit Ms. St. Martin’s web site at http://dhartstmartin.weebly.com.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisenOfSolsta
Follow her on Twitter: @hartstm
Blog: http://dhartstmartin.wordpress.com/
Other Books by Ms. St. Martin:
Tainted
Blooded
Fractured (Lisen of Solsta Book 1) Page 29