Wednesday, February 12, 2014

I'm Too Sentimental

When people tell me that parts of my books have made them cry, I have complete sympathy.

They make me cry, too. 

Then again, they make me laugh – and hearing about others who laugh makes me feel better about laughing at my Characters.

I’m sentimental about that whole lot of Characters, about when and where they lived, about what they stand for in terms of the liberties we take for granted today here in the United States where I live.

Sometimes I just wish I could meet them to shake their hands and tell them, ‘Thank you.’ I reckon that will have to wait until the Roll is Called Up Yonder. 

My Characters are fictional, but they represent real people. I can’t say that enough. And some of them were my ancestors, and maybe yours. 

So I know that When that Roll is Called Up Yonder, my Characters won’t be waiting for me. BUT I have a feeling that maybe, just maybe, the people they represent might recognize me and know the respect and admiration I have for them. 

Yes, I’m sentimental.

Hearing the Voices and the Songs that triggered this phenomenal journey I’ve found myself on  . . . I don’t even try to stay the tears from filling, falling, coursing, dropping . . . they’re homage paid to those Voices of today, whose Songs have taken me back and back and back in time to find other Voices, another Song . . . and I wonder . . . did those Voices of the Old Days realize their importance? Do they look at us today and take pride in what they have wrought? Would they be pleased with what we have wrought, in our turn, with the Legacy they lived and died to make sure was ours?


I hope so. 

Some of us are trying really hard to make it so.

Mamm of Perth : Print Version Coming In March!

Mamm of Perth, Book 2 of the They Are My Song series, now available on Kindle,will be coming out in print at Spring Equinox (March 20)!


Introduced in the first of the four 'Mamm Books', Mamm of Perth is ancestor to Mamm of Dunnottar (whom we meet in They Are My Song). It is Mamm of Perth who makes the heirloom under-bed storage chest, the travels of which these books follow.

Danann and Mamm of Perth, in the 200s AD, have a legacy to pass on to their family.

While the under-bed storage chest that Mamm makes as a young woman becomes a family heirloom, given into the keeping of each successive generation, a more important legacy is at stake.

In the Song they Sing, their Voices sound forth loud and clear the true Legacy of their Spirits.

Choice; Creation, Life, Death, Eternity; Peace; Faith; Healing; Hope; Love; and Unity . . . these are the Legacy Danann and Mamm of Perth want for their family , and the Voices rising in the Song dedicated to these values cannot be silenced, not by fire nor by sword.

These are what bind this family together; these are what bind their homeland together; these are what bind the peoples who share their values together.

When the time comes to take their stand, stand they do, and it is this Song which carries their legacy onward through the generations that follow.

As Mamm of Dunnottar tells the story to the seventh generation, more than 200 years later, it becomes clear that the Song, cherished and fought for by Danann and Mamm of Perth, have endured.


While the cost has been high, the sacrifices enormous, the Song lives on in the lives of the descendants of those who Sang it so long ago. 

Now more than 1500 years later, it lives on still; it will never be silenced.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

SMALL TOWN USA IS LIVE ON KINDLE



Some few years ago I did feature articles for the Wells County Herald-Press (Eldredge Publishing) and just found most of them safely tucked away in my files. A few are missing, the ones I did on other people's computers, but most are there.

As I read them over, I realized that the collection shows a side of Wells County that we tend to take for granted, those of us who live and work here: these are good people, folks. People who care and people who DO.

I honestly thought I would be adding my bits and pieces as I went along, organizing them into book form - but found that the words already written - and most especially the people those words are about - speak for themselves.

Give it a gander and say hello to some of the most incredible people you will ever meet - and you can bet they'd be puzzled about that statement - they just do what they do all the time; it's nothing unusual.

But it IS. It's unusual, it's great, it's ... well ... it's Small Town USA.

Monday, February 3, 2014

(Introduction, etc.) SMALL TOWN USA: It's All a Matter of Perspective




Small Town USA
It’s All a Matter of Perspective

Shiela Branson © 2014 All Rights Reserved
( Some material previously published by the Wells County Herald-Press, Eldredge Publishing, Harvey, Wells County, North Dakota; all content is the original work of Shiela Branson. )




Here is about a year’s worth of feature articles I wrote for and about the small communities located in Wells County, North Dakota some time back (along with some other stuff). Small towns are busier than a person would think!










SMALL TOWN USA

Here’s one that never made it out of my computer!

Written in 2008, it is a rebuttal to an article that had little good to say about North Dakota.

1/9/2008

I can’t speak for the state of North Dakota, nor for Wells County, nor for the town of Fessenden, nor even for everyone in my own family.  The voice I have speaks only for myself, but it IS a voice. 

I read the recent article in National Geographic about this state, and it makes me grieve. 

I grieve for the losses highlighted in the article; I grieve for the people of this state whose families have suffered; and I grieve that most people will never realize how very much more there is to this state than what is portrayed. 

Living here, in Small Town USA, often reminds me of Mayberry RFD.  It’s timeless, and it’s priceless.  After roaming around for years out in the ‘real world’, when I wanted a safe place to raise my youngest two daughters it was to my old hometown that I came.  It took a whole day to find a house that I could afford to rent ($100.00/month), and a very few months to identify and fill a niche in this rural society that I could and would fill (a year-long local domestic violence pilot program – which has since become a regular program). 

I can chuckle about the fact that my kids never bothered to lie to me about riding their bikes too fast on the other side of town, or pulling each other across the railroad tracks on their roller-blades – they knew darned well that by the time they got home I’d have already gotten at least one phone call informing me of their misdeeds. 

Kids tend to not like the watchfulness of the community at large, but we parents appreciate it.

Now that my own children are grown, and I’m back in the state (again!) after several years of going back ‘out there’ to make a living, I’ve noticed that I’m not the only one who has thought that this is a good place to raise one’s kids.  No, the kids don’t particularly appreciate it at the time (I didn’t and my own kids didn’t), but the employers of people brought up here in this state DO, and the kids do once they realize the value of what they’ve been given.

Where else can you watch the sun rise in peaceful serenity (sometimes it crests the horizon in blazes of colors no artist can hope to capture) and watch it go down in more power than you’d believe possible?  Where can your children be under watchful eyes at all times and still be free?  Where can you have people know exactly who you are and what you do, even after years of being away?  The communication system in Small Town USA puts the internet to shame, folks.  It’s one of the most griped about of all characteristics, and is one of the most effective tools when someone’s in need. 

The cost of living here is better than reasonable.  The crime rate is low.  The ratio of students to teachers is impressive and the educations received are excellent.  Grand Forks and Minot host protective Air Force Bases.  The western part of the state contains massive stores of energy-producing materials.  Hunters, fishermen, and nature nuts couldn’t possibly find anywhere better to hang their hats.  We produce a great deal of the food on our tables (and yours) PLUS we get to watch the seeds go in, the grain grow, the harvest, and if we want we can follow that same grain to a local processing plant and see it come out in boxes of pasta that we can take right on home and have for supper. 

We celebrate our seasons here in fine style.  Winter is for catching pictures of the frost before the sun and wind take it away, riding snowmobiles (you know what a Poker Run is?), going to winter sports events, cutting our own trees for Christmas, baking and/or eating all sorts of awesome ethnic treats (okay, lutefisk is NOT awesome, but it’s traditional), producing snowmen and snow angels, ice fishing, and keeping an eye on the thermometer from inside a warm cozy home with a good book and a big cup of hot chocolate at hand.  It’s for doing chores in the nastiest of weather, too.






Spring brings spring sports, outdoor activities, getting the gardens ready and seeded, watching the spring’s work proceed, getting used to the idea that we can go barefoot again if we want to, checking over the lawn mower to make sure it’s going to be able to handle the task of keeping all that thick rich green grass comfortable under our bare feet, and quietly recognizing the fact that each day’s sunshine is longer than the day before’s. 

It’s also realizing that there will be farm equipment on the roads.  Smile and wave – those guys are growing sustenance for you.

Summer is fishing, and chores, weeding the gardens, watching the flowers burst and the trees fill out, swimming at the river beach, doing outside jobs like roofing and fencing and painting, knowing where all the road construction projects are so you can plan your schedule accordingly, keeping an eye on the growing crops, hearing the buzz of aerial crop-dusters and seeing the ‘wingspans’ of terra-gators, sometimes spread across fields and sometimes folded as they poke along the roads (if you had a very small sports car you might be able to scoot beneath them, but I don’t think it’s a recommended practice), tanning with each hour you spend outside, watching the skies for developing weather patterns that might make you run for cover, cooking on the grill more often than inside, eating the first fruits of your garden produce and canning more of it for winter use. 

It’s watching the young of spring as they grow and hearing the mourning doves lulling you to sleep after a full day. 

It’s County Fairs and visiting with people and checking out the ribbons in the Women’s Building, eating caramel apples and foot long hot dogs and cotton candy.

Fall is harvest and hunting, still more fishing, putting up produce, apple pies with apples stolen from a neighbor’s tree (sorry, I’ll make you one this year and use my secret magic pie crust recipe) which is so full the limbs are almost breaking with the weight of the fruit. 

It’s gathering chokecherries and making syrup because the juice will never jell right. 

It’s the most awesome of all the awesome sunsets of the year, and the harvest moon.






Reading the papers, you’ll find that people are still getting together for ‘harvest bees’ to help farmers who are in need – rows of combines stripping fields in no time flat and people stepping up to the plate to give a helping hand where necessary.  You’ll find out-pourings of local contributions loaded into trucks to head out to those who need that helping hand. 

Granted, none of this is strictly local to this area – I’ve seen the entire country opening its arms to people in crisis, and it’s heart-stopping – but we do our share, and I would guess that on a per capita scale we rank right up there.

Yes, the weather can hit hard up here.  It hits hard everywhere, and everywhere are people who struggle to survive it.  We usually know what’s coming and can often prepare for the basic weather patterns.  People have basements and know when to use them.  We have emergency supplies on hand and can survive just about anything. 

Yes, the population of the entire state could easily fit into a middle sized city.  A lot of us kind of like it that way.  But it’s growing; slowly, but growing, and we like THAT that way too.  This is not a place for just anyone.

Yes, there are towns dying out every day.  There were a LOT of them to begin with.

Yes, the population centers are in the few larger towns in the state.  Most of the rest of the space is full of crops.  A lot of us kind of like it that way. 

And, for those who fight city traffic on a regular basis, we can get to a town a hundred miles away in the time it takes you to get to work every morning.  With less headaches. 

Yes, it’s hard to find high-paying jobs (or any job sometimes) in small towns around here.  Then again, it doesn’t cost that much to live here.  Computer-associated jobs can and are done from home these days; you don’t HAVE to live in the city where your ‘work’ is! 

Yes, the wind blows almost all the time.  It keeps the mosquitoes from killing us and the sun from roasting us, and the snow from piling up on us (although it does create drifts that stagger the mind – but that’s what snow-plows are for, and nobody in their right mind goes anywhere until the roads are clear anyway – and shoveling is good healthy exercise). 

The wind is also a great natural resource that’s going to come into its own pretty soon.  The very factor that caused so much depression and sorrow will bring succor to the survivors of those it destroyed. 

Yes, there’s a shortage of non-school activities for youth.  That’s a problem each community struggles with individually. 

Yes, when it comes to things like domestic violence there are special problems involved with providing services. 

North Dakota needs people, there’s no question about that.

I think we need people who are ready, willing, and able to put their backs into our communities.  We need people who are strong enough to deal with the rurality of the state. 

We need companies and corporations who are willing to look at us and notice that we’re strong and tough and smart and stubborn and self-sufficient – and see value – and figure out a way to put our strengths to good use. 

I think that if you came to us with something viable to offer, we’d offer you in return our strengths.  If you came to our communities with your own strengths to add to ours, we would share our assets with you and everyone would come out ahead.

Every community has homes that need families to restore them.  It takes hard work and commitment, but the homes are here.  If nobody comes to live in them, they will die, and more of our towns will be the ghost towns that outsiders come here to write about. 

One thing I’ve noticed around here is that there’s a great deal of respect for those who work hard, who make an effort to do their best, and who are willing to pitch in when they’re needed. 

Another thing I’ve noticed, in all honesty, is that there’s a level of questioning of those who come from the outside.  Chances are it will be difficult if you want to ‘belong’ immediately in Small Town USA, but there are ample community projects that will involve you in a positive way – you just have to involve yourself and be nice. 

Yes, North Dakota is spacious.  But it’s only lonely if that’s what you choose.  There’s a lot more here than you’d think.  A lot of us like it that way.



Besides, we have the UND hockey team.  A lot of us like that too. 


What follows is a series of feature articles I wrote for the Wells County Herald-Press newspaper, presented as I actually wrote them and minus the editorial choices made about them before they were published.
I’ll no doubt add a few comments as I go along here, being as I’m pretty sure I’ll want to – so this is your fair warning in case I can’t control my propensity for gabbering about this, that, and the other thing.





Since it was spring-time when I started doing these feature articles for the local newspaper, our ‘year or so’ begins . . . in the spring.

A few of my articles are missing, including the very first one I did – on the Women’s Ag Banquet, which is really too bad because I really like that article.

The missing articles are missing mainly because I wrote them on other people’s computer systems and so don’t have the files available to me . . . and ain’t THAT just about par for my course, sigh.

Even so, there are more than a few remaining to provide a perhaps new perspective on life in Small Town USA.


If you have been under the impression that Small Town Life is dull and boring with nothing to do, read on my friend, READ ON!

Friday, January 31, 2014

Kinda Tired

The good news is that THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY, MAMM OF PERTH, and MAMM OF TARNOS are all three tucked safely into Kindle. The covers for the print versions will be a long time coming yet, so the print books won't be out for a while, and the Kindle 'covers' are simple photos (but they're good ones!)

I'm kind of looking forward to being able to get back into the artwork zone - found out that the Kindle versions are color-friendly!

YAY!

However, at the moment I have a hankering to take a few hours and read something I didn't write myself, so am taking myself off to Kindle-land for relaxation instead of formatting.

G'night all! It's been a busily productive day.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

The Sacred Yew

YEW TO LEY LINES TO TOBERMORY TO DUN URGADUL TO KEY OF SOLOMON TO PRIEST WITH PARISH OF KILNINIAN THROWN IN FOR GOOD MEASURE

No, I am not kidding you.

I’m writing this little thingamabopper about the Sacred Yew because it’s on my mind, right?

Right.

So I go back and look it up again and see an image of it at the intersection of three ley lines (like ‘power’ lines), right?

One goes to Iona and a spot on the east coast, Aberlemno/Montrose. Fine and dandy.

One goes between Eilean Isa (w) and the Holy Island (e). Okay.

The other one connects Marywell (e) with Tobermory (w). Huh? What the heck kind of name is Tobermory?

Me being me, I had to look it up. I just HAD to.

Tobermory means the Well of Mary.

Those guys did that on purpose.

Ya think?

I think.

Now right alongside of Tobermory is this place called Dun Urgadul.

Dun says Pict and/or ancient place name (fort or protection) but what about Urgadul?

Nobody knows.

Me being me, I had to find out. I just HAD to.

Being as Dunnottar has that Swedish king Ottar making sense of the Fother (Scandinavian personal name) of Oppidum Fother, another designation of Dunnottar, I checked Swedish.

Nope.

Germanic?

Nope, no Urgadul there either.

Nothing in Gaelic (Irish or Scots) ringing any bells.

Okay, kick in the Spiral. Break it down like I did Dunnottar.

Ur.

That took me on a very interesting and educational side trip to the olden days in the Middle East, and reminded me that it was familiar because it’s in the Bible, Old Testament.

Not what I was looking for, although I was closer than I thought. Not to Ur, but to Gadul.

But I was still looking for Ur and went back to my round of languages.

Found it in German:  ur => used in words denoting the primal stage of a historical or cultural entity or phenomenon; original; earliest

My, my, what have we here?

Went digging for Gadul, and almost freaked myself out when I found it in a translation of The Key of Solomon.

And I’m going what the heck IS this?

A Hebrew word meaning ‘priest’ hooked onto a Germanic word meaning ‘earliest’, connected by a Pictish word for fort or protection, on a western Scots island, on a ley line, right by an ancient holy well that ended up dedicated to the Virgin Mary (and I bet there was a Yew tree there too or there used to be; they planted them by wells and springs and such).

Went scanning for Dun Urgadul again in general and found that it’s located in KILNINIAN parish.

O_O

And now it makes sense to me. 

I have to say I’m somewhat shocked to find a parish named after Ninian, unless it’s not Roman Catholic, because when I went looking for him in relation to Dunnottar I discovered that the Church seems to have no official records at all of him – as if he never existed – which didn’t surprise me much since Columba was their ‘golden boy’ for Scotland. If they wanted to saint him it wouldn’t look so good if Ninian had beaten him to the punch by a hundred years or more.

I have my own theories on that and don’t believe for one minute that even Ninian would have been bringing anybody any new news when it came to Christianity (although I betcha he warned them about the Roman ‘interpretation’). Yeah, I have a hunch that a little expunging went on in the Ninian-related Church records. That Culdee. *laughing* Columba too, for that matter. I betcha. They ended up kicking out his priests and caused a civil war.

I write fiction; I can say what I want. And I don’t have to expunge anything, heh heh.

Yep.

A couple of hours of research just because a place name didn’t make sense to me, that’s the way I roll.

And it’s not even a place name that has anything to do with my stories.

What the heck.


Maybe I’ll use it in a short story.

Here's my little piece that led to all of the above:

2014  01  28 
THE SACRED YEW

I put a brief conversation into Mamm of Tarnos, between TallUllin and Mamm of Iona, about the Yew. They’re seated beneath it and talking about it a little.

Mamm, after TallUllin explains how one tree can live for such a very long time, immediately draws a parallel between the Yew and the Mother. In a spiritual context there’s much to be said for the girl’s observations.

Here’s a bit I found at 
http://www.3pintsgone.com/lyrics/BeachesOfStValery/StValery/YewTree.htm

"Patriarch of Long-lasting Woods.... "
Mara Freeman, 1996

In early times, the darkly glorious yew-tree was probably the only evergreen tree in Britain. Both Druids with their belief in reincarnation, and later Christians with their teaching of the resurrection, regarded it as a natural emblem of everlasting life. Its capacity for great age: enriched its symbolic value. The early Irish regarded it as one of the most ancient beings on earth. Yew is the last on a list of oldest things in a passage from the fourteenth century Book of Lismore: "Three lifetimes of the yew for the world from its beginning to its end."

The yew's reputation for long life is due to the unique way in which the tree grows. Its branches grow down into the ground to form new stems, which then rise up around the old central growth as separate but linked trunks. After a time, they cannot be distinguished from the original tree. So the yew has always been a symbol of death and rebirth, the new that springs out of the old, and a fitting tree for us to study at the beginning of this new year. As the days now grow longer with the beginning of a new solar cycle, we move into the future on the achievements of the past, new creativity springs forth grounded in the accomplishments of " the year gone by.             . . .


Me, I’d probably have headed it Matriarch, but then I’m not the one who wrote it! 

There are thousands of web-sites about the Sacred Yew so I’ll forego redundancy here except for the above and this bit about the Fortingall Yew in particular.

The Fortingall Yew in Perthshire, Scotland is said to have grown there since long before the birth of Christ and to have been a sacred place from the beginning. Nobody can even guess at who planted it, nor when, although we can make a stab at WHY, and why THERE. Ancient religious beliefs would be the why. And the why there:  It lies at the crossing of three ley lines, for one thing. It’s said to be at or near the center of Scotland, for another. Directly north of it is a mountain of a specific shape, for another. It’s the ‘center’ in more ways than one. Iona to Aberlemno/Montrose, Eilean Isa to the Holy Island, Tobermory to Marywell . . .

So it’s fairly easy to see the logic of Mamm of Iona when she likens the Yew to the Mother in a religious sense.

From the Yew springs new growth, entirely new trees that recombine with the original tree and, when all is said and done, cannot be separated from one another. Mamm equates this with the growth of ‘new’ religions: Pagan, Druid, Culdee, Priest, Christianity . . . all growing from one Source and all serving one purpose: to protect and preserve the Mother Tree.

Despite injuries sustained over the many long years of its life, the Fortingall Yew lives on, testament to tenacity in the face of adversity – on many levels.

At any rate, researching the Yew has finally given me perhaps a little insight regarding parts of my books that I’ve had a hard time figuring out.

See, I write stuff and then maybe research it. Most of the time pertinent information pops up when I’m looking into something totally different. 

For example:  when the Mother is talking to Danann and Sidhelagh of Dunnottar in the grove and says something about how Jesus and Christianity  will be her preservation or some such – and Danann and Sidhelagh just don’t ‘get it’, not when Roman Christianity is doing everything in its power to eliminate the Mother’s place, power, and authority. Their confusion is a reflection of my own, but I left the conversation in as it came to me, even though it didn’t make much sense to me either.

Now, half a year and several books later, I find the Yew.

I was looking for a home place, inland, for Mamm’s family to be centered in and chose Perthshire; close enough to logically come to Dunnottar/Stonehaven at times, but inland.

Bits of information float about in my head all the time and from those bits came reference to archaeological finds indicating a possible Roman ‘scorched earth’ maneuver to the north of Hadrian’s Wall – and the story of Mamm of Perth begins with that story, a couple of hundred years earlier than the Dunnottar main story.

Later still, looking for a logical, centrally located, meeting point for my characters and representatives from Iona, up popped the Sacred Yew. It would have been to that general area that our Perth characters would have fled the burning plains to spend that awful Long Dark following the burning, too.

Finding out that the Sacred Yew really WOULD have been a natural ‘sanctuary’, for people in times of trouble, brought a bit of a shiver to me.

Dunnottar’s grove doesn’t have a Yew, perhaps because it doesn’t rest on a ley line. However, the family home in Perthshire does, which makes sense when I look at a map and see where (in my head) I’ve placed that family home. It would have had to have a Yew.


I also didn’t figure out the reason for adding the Yew twig to the oak leaf, earth, and small stone of the message to Danann of Perth – until long after that bit had been written. Now I’ve learned more of the connections between Iona and the Sacred Yew; it begins to make sense to me that Danann interpreted the combination to mean ‘Come home; you are Called by Iona’ – but at the time my Characters were well ahead of me (as usual – I’m forever baffled by them and I think they get a kick out of it when I finally ‘get it’).

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

INVITATION TO PREVIEW-REVIEW THEY ARE MY SONG SERIES

I'm in the process of a re-do on the book 'THEY ARE MY SONG' which has to do with a place called Dunnottar, Scotland in the year 487 AD, and the survival of the Mother-based belief systems in the face of male-dominated Roman Christianity.

Not wanting to use the 'Pict' designation of the Romans, I chose Cruithnne instead for a people-name but that's an Irish thing (although better than Pict, IMO) - for the re-write, I've been looking for something that rings bells for me, in terms of linguistics, associations with likely origins of my people, and (mostly) something that makes spiritual sense to me and to my Characters.

Me being me, I went in search of variations on the word Pict-Pect-Brect-etc. with a Germanic base as I have a gut feeling that these early inhabitants came from that neck of the woods, probably being one of the very early Celt or pre-Celt 'tribes' - and found Perchta/Berchta - lo and behold a Goddess associated not only with women but light/white.

So, given the variables in linguistics my reasoning is that perhaps my people's early ancestors came to this western isle in the north sea referring to themselves as 'Perchtanni' or 'Berchtannae' or some such; over the many centuries that could well have 'evolved' into a pronunciation that resembled the Pritani or Priteni, Brittanni, Pechts, and even Prydyn ... local pronunciations, let alone spellings, vary so much that I've found in my own family history searches 'my' family name spelled three different ways within single documents.

None of which probably holds the slightest interest for you and I'm just blabbering on here because I want to and I can!    


Nobody now has any idea what the 'Picts' would have called themselves, let alone what meaning it would have held for them as a people. Because I write fiction I guess I can call them whatever I choose, but I would like to choose as wisely as possible.


The land itself came to be called Alba, Alban, Albann (doubled consonants seeming to be a 'Pictish' thing) meaning 'white' and I've gone with using Albann to designate what is all of today's Scotland, as the subsequent books take place all the way from Dunnottar in the east to Iona in the west, down to the Wall, and up to the Chatton territory in the north.


Having said all THAT, and bearing in mind that what I'm trying to 'portray' in THEY ARE MY SONG is a small community of fairly ordinary folk of the time who find that they must choose to take a stand not only for their own particular belief systems but for the rights of their friends and neighbors to choose for themselves. It's  not Pagan vs Christian; it's freedom to choose vs being dictated to.


It's also about the equal value of each Voice, hence the individual Voices of each of the Characters' various perspectives, and the repeating medley of the Song that twines them all together. If a person wants, they can choose one Character and easily follow him/her through the events that take place, and their development.


This book is not designed to be a traditional easy read, although it is simple in its use of language.


It's also designed to rely on artwork. I put it out (Kindle/Amazon) 'as is' instead of including the artwork to the extent that I designed it for. That too will be a major change in the final edition I'm putting together now. It's my bad that I allowed what amounts to a really rough draft to be published - so it's up to me to fix it. 


If you might be interested in reviewing what I'm calling the P4 version of THEY ARE MY SONG, let me know and I can email it to you - in parts or in total, whatever you choose.

I also have the next two books done; they're based on THEY ARE MY SONG's Characters and have a double story line. One follows the SONG Characters while the other follows the generational history of a family heirloom; it's the Long Dark, story-telling time in the roundhouse.

These first four of the subsequent books I call the Mamm Books; they do NOT have either the individual Character Voices nor the artwork, and are written and presented in a more 'traditional' manner.

I don't expect the final version of THEY ARE MY SONG to be completed to my satisfaction any time soon; it might well be the last of this series to come out - while I thoroughly enjoy the writing of the others, SONG has been a mystic journey for me from the get-go and I'm going to, in the end, get it presented the way it was designed to be presented.

Thanks, if you've gotten this far through all my maunderings. My lineage traces back to mostly Celt origins and I've also got an INFJ personality type to contend with ... sigh. INFJ is a Myers Briggs Type Inventory thing so be fairly warned! Do not expect 'normal'. Do not expect 'ordinary'.

Blessings,


Shiela aka Sidhelagh