What We Can Learn from the Coelacanth ~ by Author Marj Ivancic

The story of the Coelacanth is one of joy.

Okay. Maybe not birth-of-your-first-child kind of joy, but it’s certainly one that makes me smile and gives me a bit of hope.

photo: oceana.org

A Coelacanth (SEEL-uh-kanth) is a fish, and for a long time, we
only knew about these little guys from their class pictures in fossil yearbook. They were a pretty fruitful crew about 300 million years ago. But fast forward 235 million years, and their portraits in the rock disappear.

The dinosaurs died out, so perhaps these little lynchpins did too?

And then…

A day in 1938, a captain of a fishing boat pulls in a haul off the coast of South Africa. In among the sharks he’s snagged is a stranger dressed in blue. So, he rings the local marine biologist. She’s always looking for odd specimens for her museum.

She comes.

She’s excited.

Could it be?

She makes some calls. The scientific community jumps to attention.

How exciting! How amazing! A shadow come to life!


(Cue Beethoven’s “9th Symphony” here.)

Beyond the implications to scientific research, this discovery (or rediscovery?) of the Coelacanth is a humbling, hopeful reminder. Man can only look so far, dig so deep. Our eyes and ears and bodies and minds are limited. We can think we know something, but really, all we can do is believe. Believe and trust.

Which means we can always be surprised!

And just because we can’t see something, hear or touch it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It—whatever “it” might be for you—might be out there, living, swimming the waters of wonder and miracle. Keep hope! Keep looking!

To view Marj's other blog posts, please click HERE

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants ~ Jacquolyn McMurray

Photo by Evan Wise on Unsplash

Issac Newton once said, "If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants."  

Is there any creative out there who can honestly say they have never utilized the wisdom of those who came before us?

I know I can't.

Personally, I'm clear that any successes I've had on my writing journey can be attributed to my writing community.

When I started my writing journey in my early twenties, I had no appreciation for the advantages of being part of a writing community. Maybe that's because I was too self-conscious to admit that one of my dreams was to become a published author.  I imagined that writing was a solitary pursuit, and although many parts of the process ARE solitary, it's the time interacting with other writers and writing teachers that has sustained me for decades. Left on my own, the critic in my head would have eventually won out and I would have abandoned my dream.

It wasn't until 2001 that writing became a routine part of my life all because we teachers went on strike. Prompted by the unity a strike affords, a group of teachers decided that when we were not on the picket line, we would do some writing exercises together to pass the time.  

Voila! My first writing group was established.

We made a commitment to meet once a month to explore writing. In the beginning, we did a lot of Natalie Goldberg writing exercises, shared our writing, gave one another feedback, and dutifully studied the hefty Writers' Market for places to send our work. During spring and summer breaks from school, we'd rent a place for a weekend retreat away from our families. We took writing classes, entered contests, collected rejections, and forged forward. 

Nineteen years later, the two of us who remain in the group are multi-published authors who continue to take classes and embrace the knowledge of our favorite writing gurus.

A big part of my writing community are author friends I've met at conferences and writers' retreats. We are bonded through our love of creating and willingness to learn from those who came before us.

I am forever grateful to all those who supported and encouraged me in my dream of becoming a published author.  

  

Why I Love Writing Medieval Romance ~ by Mary Morgan

I’ve often been asked this question, “Why Medieval romance? Why not Regency, Victorian, or Western?” In truth, I love them all, but my heart belongs to one. It started when my fingers opened a book about the great Irish King, Brian Boru (941-1014A.D.). His story is legendary, especially with the people of Ireland. King Brian led the Irish to the peak of their Golden Age—from poetry, arts, saints, and scholars. A spark ignited within my soul for more. 

I sought out tales of knights in shining armor and folk heroes,delving into a life teeming with richness, though at times harsh and violent. Yet it wasn’t until I devoured the history of Brian Boru that I became immersed in medieval life. From there, I treasured tales of life in castles, traveling on horseback, studying foods and herbs. My list is endless and always growing on medieval ways. Yes, there are even days when I long to travel back in time and explore the history, lore, and beliefs.

When I finally took my first trip to Scotland sixteen years ago, the birth of a series—the Dragon Knights was born. I was sitting on a boulder in the Highlands surrounded by the magic and the mists of the land. However, on the second half of my trip, I visited Ireland. As I wandered the soft rolling hills in various shades of green, the land spoke to my soul and urged me to place the Dragon Knights here, too. It would be several more years before I decided on both countries--Scotland and Ireland--as part of my stories. A perfect solution to a problem I had been debating on for the Dragon Knights.

Therefore, when it came time to pen these stories, it only made sense for me to place them all in a medieval setting. One might say I live vicariously through my characters. It’s a love affair with all things medieval. And in finding my own knight in shining armor (happily married for 36 years), I shall always weave a tale with a “happy ever after” ending.

Award-winning Celtic paranormal and fantasy romance author,

Author Mary Morgan

Mary Morgan, resides in Northern California with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.

Mary's passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. Inspired by her love for history and ancient Celtic mythology, her tales are filled with powerful warriors, brave women, magic, and romance. It wasn't until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling by writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.

If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books. You can contact Mary through one of the links below.

WEBSITE/BLOG

TWITTER

GOODREADS

FACEBOOK

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

Meet our Members

Kim Hornsby

Kim Hornsby is an USA Today and Amazon #1 Bestselling Author, having shared space on the top five bestseller list with J.D. Robb, Stephen King and Nicolas Sparks. 

To read more about Kim, her blog posts, and books, please click HERE .

Unwanted by Linda Boulanger

When I first started writing again after so many years of not picking up a pen, I thought Christian Fiction was the way I would go, especially after my friend, Pat Sipperly, pulled me into a writing group called FaithWriters. They had weekly challenges with different levels and, low and behold, the first story I entered won in its level. I was shocked but elated as well. I was also hooked and continued on, working my way up with a win here and there until I received the highest honor... an Editor's Choice.

Looking back, those wins may not have been that great to most people, but to me... I may as well have won the lottery. They gave me faith in my stories and my ability to write, and they pushed me to explore where I wanted to go as a author.

It took me several years to come to the realization that my heart is in Historical Romance. I've dabbled in a lot of genres along the way... including that time in Christian Fiction. That's a time that will always be near and dear to my heart and I'd like to share my Editor's Choice winning story with you. It's an idea that I think I'll eventually work into one of my Historical Romances, because I really like it. It touches the heart. It's called Unwanted. Enjoy!

Betrayal. Is there a more justifiable reason to be angry? I had every reason in the world to be bitter. I was swallowed up in the deepest, darkest time of my life, but God wasn’t giving me any slack.

I had done nothing wrong!

I was still seething as I looked down at the tiny bundle wrapped in soft pink. She returned my gaze, her eyes filled with trust. They were the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Sweet. She looked so sweet.

I picked her up, feeling her tiny nose against my cheek, soft yet firm, like nothing I had ever felt before. She nestled against me as I held her in my arms. I breathed deeply, the aroma of baby lotion, powder, and her distinctive scent filled my head. She smelled like him, her father…. my husband.

I didn’t want to love her, vowed I would not the day he told me about her and that he wanted to bring her home. To our home! His child with another woman… brought into this world by a chance encounter… and I was supposed to take her in and love her as my own.

Preposterous!

I had resolved to harden my heart toward her. Bitterness had tried to creep in.

I’d already made my peace with my husband… with an awful lot of help from God. I had come to terms with the fact that, perhaps, it had even been my obsession with the need for a baby that had driven him away for a time. It had been difficult enough but we’d gotten through it. And then he’d learned of this child, his child, to be given away without a care from her real mother.

And now, here she was, so small, so helpless. She was soft within my arms, looking to me to take care of her, to show her a world where someone cared.

“God, how could you do this to me? How can I do for her what is needed when my heart is hurting so?”

I’d been denied my own child in life. Years of trying had left me with nothing but a hardened heart, wounded pride, and a taste of bitterness in my mouth. The barren woman… and now this child.

She began to fuss. I laid her back and she looked at me again. I was touched by the total lack of judgment in her eyes. She had no idea how tormented I was or that I had planned not to love her, only that she needed someone to take care of her and that I seemed to be doing a pretty good job at that very moment. Her own mother didn’t care, didn’t love her; had not even loved my husband as I did.

I brushed the palm of my hand across the soft down that covered the top of her head. She liked it. Her eyes took on that dreamy look and I smiled. The realization of how much she needed me washed over me with great cleansing waves.

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Her eyes fluttered, and then shut. I could feel her breath. Soft sweet whispers caressed my face as I rubbed her cheek with my own.

In her sleep, she smiled. It was an angel’s smile.

I couldn’t hate her.

My bitterness faded away. She was the answer to my prayer for a child.

I resolved right then to be her mother, to be that someone who would love her no matter what. I thanked God for giving me the chance to make certain she never felt unwanted.