Get Your Word Juices Flowing

Joe Walters from Independent Book Review asked his subscribers to send their favorite writing hack, or tips. I replied, and my response inspired today’s post. I figured that you might be curious about what motivates me to write or inspires my story telling, when there’s no looming deadline or boss to appease. Here’s the scoop… Writing is often as simple as putting my butt on a chair, and opening my computer, even when I don’t know what comes next with my story. Without a 9-5 job, or a time clock to punch, who cares how long I let my laptop sleep? My cat cares. Hana loves it when I pull my laptop snug against my abdomen. That’s exactly the kind of challenge she lives for, and she must wedge herself between me and my keyboard come rainbow bridge or high water. I begin by editing what I wrote the day before, to insert myself in the scene. Sometimes inspiration quietly arrives, and when I reach the end, I keep going. If words are elusive, and I can only spit up a strangled sentence or two, I go back even further and edit again. Instead of always be closing, my motto is always be editing. Although I wish I could be a tough salesman like Alec Baldwin in Glengarry Glen Ross. I’d certainly sell more books! But what happens when I’ve finished editing and words still won’t breach the ether? If all else fails, I take a book and go for a walk where there are towering trees and a lot of benches to sit and read upon. Inspiration can’t resist a good bench. Distraction attracts words. But don’t forget a notepad or a phone to collect wayward ideas. If you don’t write them down, the ether will slurp them back into the literary stew. Research. Live. You can’t write if you aren’t living well. You need to be out and about, learning from experiences, letting happy accidents happen, listening to the conversations of strangers, and traveling out of your comfort zone. Specific book research counts as writing time in my book. And sometimes it is okay to sit on your couch and read several witches’ grimoires to help fuel my upcoming book The Savannah Book of Spells. Or to research archeology online like I did for The Levitation Game. But being a couch potato won’t help you become a better writer. Living will help. Get out there. Of course, it helps to love what you do. I’ve met so many wanna-be writers that quit. It takes passion and perseverance. The longer you’re in the writing game, the better you’ll be. And I’m lucky that creativity is my cornerstone. Gosh darn it, I just love to make things, whether it’s snapping a pretty photo, sewing a new pillow cover, painting a drum (this summer’s task) cooking up a mean squash noodle soup, or whipping up a heroine on a quest to find the elusive Garden of Eden like in my work in progress, Artlet Abrams and the Ancient Apple Tree. Writing should be fun! Just do it!  “How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” ~ Henry David Thoreau Discover my author website! Read Chorus of Crows!

Potatoes and Peru

My trip to Peru was fraught with exhaustion, and physical and mental unease. But also, moments of astounding beauty. Wherever drinking water attracts serious side eye, I’m wary of uncooked anything, which was served in abundance. Sigh. The altitude was another obstacle. I’d never breathed air that thin for more than an hour or two. So, ten days between 10,000 feet and 15, 000 feet felt daunting. Plus, did I mention I’m basically a weakling with chronic fatigue? But I did it. I kept up with everyone else, even though on the inside, I was dying. I took Pepto Bismol, but overall, remained gut stable. I preserved, and as luck and prayers would have it, I didn’t miss a thing—except the San Pedro ceremony or plant medicine that resembled Ayahuasca. 

If you’ve ever thought about visiting Peru, please do! The Andes mountains are rugged and beautiful, the people and ceremonies are a rainbow-colored visual treat, and Machu Picchu is a surreal world wonder.

Here’s what I learned in Peru:

There are over 3,000 kinds of potatoes grown in Peru, in varying colors, shapes and sizes. One of my favorite memories was wandering the farmer’s market in Pisac. The smells! Oh, and the splayed and goose bumped, about-to-be-chopped chicken feet. I saw the biggest watermelons on earth. And piles of purple, orange, red, and brown wiggly potatoes. Oddly enough, mostly because of the uninspired meals served at my hotel, I hardly ate any potatoes.

Women and men wear wide brimmed wool hats, like in a western movie, to keep their heads dry from the constant mountain mist and rain. It’s cold in Peru. Dress accordingly. Better yet, go in the summer season.

There are two circuits at Machu Picchu, and you’ll only be able to choose one. Stay in the misty and magical town Machu Picchu Pueblo below the site and go in twice. We traveled six hours round trip on an exhausting route from Pisac, which wasn’t even close to Machu Picchu. And I was never able to wander amongst the ruins.

If you’re planning to try sacred and hallucinogenic plant medicine, like the San Pedro cactus, keep in mind that you may be sick afterwards for quite some time. It could derail your trip with very little reward. That’s why I didn’t do it. 

Often, first-time Alpaca mothers abandon their young, and the babies were like cuddly, uber-soft, adorable orphans bouncing around the mountains. But don’t worry, they are nursed into adulthood by the people of Peru. Did you know there are four camelid species in Peru? Alpacas, Llamas, Vicuna, and Guanaco.

Don’t forget to see Lake Titicaca, and all the other sites beyond Machu Picchu. I didn’t see all of the sites I wanted to see, but because I had an action-packed itinerary, I didn’t think it would be a big deal—until after I’d flown so far and spent so many soles. Make sure you’re booking the right trip to match your interests and culinary tastes. Ask questions and do your homework.

Eat your soup. The vegetable quinoa soup is delicious! They grow quinoa in Peru and it melts in your mouth like fresh noodles.

I experienced a ceremony that will enhance a chapter of my upcoming book, The Savannah Book of Spells. Everyone in our group thought about purposeful wishes and goals while we held sacred coca leaves, then we blew our desires to the surrounding mountains in three strong huffs. The leaf spoils were added to a pile of cookies, beads and objects, along with mystery items that we unwrapped, each with a special meaning to the people of Peru, like corn or herbs. After the ceremony, the pile of herbs, trinkets and leaf spoils were wrapped and later, buried. That sounds like something my green witches could do.

Buy handicrafts from the locals. What a riot of color! I bought a small stuffed alpaca and tied the colorful and free friendship bracelets I received during the trip around its furry neck. The souvenirs and memories of travel you acquire will live on in your heart forever. Just like Peru.

"If no man could become rich in Peru, no man could become poor." ~ William Prescott

"This book is unsettling in the best way, slow, atmospheric, and deeply human." ~ Frank Rojas

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The Secret Life of a Spammer

 

The morning sun turned the curtains over the sink a gossamer orange like butterfly wings, as Leo grabbed his thermos and raced to the front door. He twisted the doorknob but stopped. He’d forgotten his book. Where did he leave it? His feet pounded the floor, and his dog barked as he backtracked through the living room and into his bedroom, grabbing his copy of Pride and Prejudice, before racing outside, down the street, and into the throng of morning commuters. Leo stopped and waited at the corner of Hellfire and Gates. The air sizzled with humidity. The smell of fermenting garbage floated on the breeze.

After a minute, a dusty bus belched and wheezed to a stop, cracking the door. As passengers rushed to board, a woman bumped him in the shoulder with her duffel, and another man stepped on his foot. But as long as Leo had a book to read during his commute to work, he didn’t care about a thing. He boarded and took a seat, smushed between a woman with a tiny dog and a man with an oversized briefcase. Leo began to read.

As the sun rose above the buildings near his home, Leo wiped the sweat from his forehead and drifted into the world of Jane Austen, and when he lifted his head to look out the smudgy bus window, instead of the city, he saw the cool and crisp English countryside. Leo smiled.

Hours later, his fingers grew tired from hastily typing messages into the comments of random blogs and sending spicy emails. He knew the words were misspelled and crude, but did anyone really read spam emails and comments anyway? Besides, if people clicked the links after he’d written such disgusting fodder and misspelled almost every word, they deserved what they got, right? Spam work was tedious, and guilt gnawed at his heart as he inserted the link for his company’s squeaky sex doll website over and over and over into the thousands of websites of random authors and businesses too dumb to install spam filters. He hated his job, but if AI took over, he would be obsolete. What would he do then?

Leo took a sip from his coffee cup and eyeballed the stack of books that sat on his desk. What if instead of typing vulgar messages, he wrote passages from his favorite books? Leo grabbed book after book from his desk, and for hours, his fingers flew over the keyboard, and he had no time to fix his mistakes...

…and Miss Bingleybegan abusing her as soon as she was out of the room Her manners werepronounced to be very bad –a mixture of pride and impertinence:she had no conversation,

…and now you comeover like a walking atomy with a rat,s tail at your wig

…The moths will fly out andclimb into the projector beam,so that the film will be obscured byfluttering shadows

…after a very well-cooked lunch in which the Yorkshire puddinghad melted in his mouth and the apricot tart had been so perfect thathe ate it all,Mellers smoking his cigar by the brightly burningfire the while hail gusts banged on the window

…where the thickest fought,the victor flew;The king’s example all his Greeks pursue.

…surprised.And presently Lady Droitwich began to do amusing things as well as saythem

…olonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly,with thereadiness and ease of a well-bred man,

...“My dream! My dream! Even now it cometh topass! Help! Help!”The man drew the woman away from the skeleton and closer to thetrembling rock.”Even the dead come forth!” she wailed.

Ha! The previous and flawed sentences were torn, word for word, (then deleted and marked as spam) from my website. I begin every day by deleting unpublished spam comments from my author website. I only recently figured out how to manage them more effectively. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that they were botched lines from classic literature! It was and is still rancidly annoying, but intriguing, nonetheless. Po! Po! Away! Away!

But don't go yet, read this heartwarming and starred editorial review of Chorus of Crows at Independent Book Review! It's the best darn thing to happen to me as a writer. Look to your inbox for my next newsletter on May 18. And greetings from Peru! Be sure to check out my blog for upcoming photos. 

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Chorus of Crows Caught a Stared Review!

I received a heartwarming, stared review from Independent Book Review! Whenever I get kicked in the gut by bad reviews, I’m going to reread this review, over and over, and hopefully persevere. 

Please take a look!

 Read my stared review at Independent Book Review!

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“Wear the old coat and buy the new book.” ~ Austin Phelps

When life shoots emotional arrows, don’t you wish you could spin an exoskeleton like a beautiful seashell? We’d be unique and lustrous, with a strong and shimmering layer of calcium carbonate forming an external barrier to protect us against barbs and stings. Alas, our bones are on the inside and will not thwart life’s external dings, dents, and bad reviews. So what can we do? Visit a rage room, perhaps?   Guru Jay Shetty said he feels envious of a tea kettle's loud and obnoxious release of pressure. I get it. I bet you do, too. Maybe that’s why roller coasters are so much fun. It’s acceptable to scream like crazy. And that’s why people love the horror genre. It's liberating to yell at the monster that can’t really hurt you. And let’s face it, sometimes we want to watch someone else struggle with something even scarier than what life throws our way. It felt healing for me to write Chorus of Crows, purging a horror story spun from my dad's real-life heartache. I’d like to imagine my book screeching off a catapult when it launched on March 13. “Read me!” it screamed. So much is happening right now. I have two live book events coming up at Books On Third and Annette's Book Nook. You can read my latest author interview here!  And read author Dawn Colclasure's review here! Some of you may have seen my big giveaway post on socials, but the giveaway is bigger and better here! See below... My birthday was on March 1st. The best gift you can give me is your rating or review of Chorus of Crows.  I’m giving away one last gift bag full of Chorus of Crows-themed goodies to my newsletter subscribers. Be like a crow and collect shiny things! Curiously, the giveaway on my social pages was a big yawn. But at Tattered Page Book Club, over 100 people entered to win a gift bag. They blew me away with stories of spine tingling paranormal encounters, spooky dreams, and scary real-life, often tragic events. This bag includes a signed copy of my book! The first person to respond to this email, to tell me they want the gift bag, wins! But the second person will receive a signed copy of my book. Like on socials, you can tell me the spookiest thing that’s ever happened to you, or the scariest dream you’ve ever had—my nightmares are always inspiring my novels. But it's not required today. Did you know I wrote Chorus of Crows first, and that a dream I had there, during my book research trip to Sedona, AZ, inspired The Levitation Game? The bag’s value is over 65 dollars. Here’s what you get: ~ A cute but sturdy crow tote bag from The Enchanted Journal Shop on Etsy. I love these. ~ A big Chorus of Crows mug from Zazzle. ~ Dream Salve from my favorite Etsy shop, CatNapBotanicals, to help you remember your dreams! ~ A cute corn rubber duckie from Tumblers360 on Etsy. Who knew? ~ Candy corn. ~ My book! ~ A Florida themed mystery trinket to leave for your favorite neighborhood crow—or crow fairy. Author Jess Lourey hides a marble somewhere outside for the fairies to thank them for their literary help after she completes her novels. I love this idea!  US only, please. Caw! A winner will be selected by 5 pm Eastern Standard Time on March 24, 2026! Discover my author website! Read Chorus of Crows!

The Controversy of the Book Cover

Fallow versions of my cover. (early versions had a "the" in the title)

I wrote Chorus of Crows many years ago, and the story grew from my dad’s spooky and surreal battle with Parkinson’s. Without his ordeal, I wouldn’t have started writing at all. And after the literary fireworks, I created a cover. I’m an illustrator. What else would I do? Like my dad, Oren Walton, the main character, is a corn farmer. I painted the gnarly roots of a cornstalk that reminded me of a skeletal hand reaching beneath the soil, added crows growing from its twisted tips, and set it against a luminous orange background. I loved it. For years, while I queried agents and publishers, accumulated rejections, edited, rewrote, and finally published another novel entirely, I envisaged Chorus of Crows with that glowing silhouette on my Amazon page. As soon as I signed a contract with Dreamsphere Books, however, they told me my cover was chicken $#%t, and tossed it into the tree line behind the farm where old tractors go to die. I was heartbroken.

Above, you'll find the cover that never was. I assumed the publisher would love it. And the art department would add their own dramatic title type or font. I thought the glowing color and simple imagery would make it stand out against other covers when it was a small icon. I like to create imagery that is curious and different. Artsy.

Dreamsphere Books created a new cover. I felt this version should be fed to the dogs and in the spring, mown over. I called this version stock photography and sorrow.

This update is better, but I still hated it, and they didn't want to do any more tweaking. I persevered, telling them readers wouldn’t see the tiny crows when the book was a small icon on Amazon. The sky was so dark, I said, that it made the title hard to read. Wheat? Whatever. My main character, Oren Walton, is a corn farmer. And please, why not put a crow in an “O” instead of tacked onto the side of the field like a stock photography mistake? Do you know what they said? 

"Okay. We'll give it another go."

Unholy crows! Now, I love it. The trail leads the eye through the corn to the creepy barn and glowing window. I'll always be sad about my unharvested version, but I hope this cover leads future readers straight to Amazon to buy a copy! Chorus of Crows launches on March 13, so look to social media for book mayhem, fun, and freebies.

"The cover of a book is the beginning of a conversation between the author and the reader." ~ David Pearson

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Chorus of Crows Cover Reveal!

When retired farmer Oren Walton meets a mysterious woman in his old RV, he believes he’s received a final mercy–a brief escape from loneliness, grief, and the slow theft of his body by Parkinson’s disease.

But there’s a problem: his daughter, Sedona, thinks he hallucinated the whole affair. Oren insists the woman is real; Sedona only sees the familiar signs of illness and delusion.

The girl in the RV is just the beginning. Sedona watches her father unravel as stories of strange visitors and malevolent crows escalate into inexplicable farm machinery mishaps, dangerous encounters with intruders, and a battle with a terrifying creature on the porch.

Through her late mother’s diaries, Sedona finds a brief respite from the harsh realities entwining her peculiar new life on the farm. When the land itself begins to feel watchful, Sedona wonders if something else is at work, something that took root long ago at the spot—a place behind the barn that changed the family’s lives forever.

As hallucination and horror blur into one, father and daughter must ask the same question: Is Oren losing his mind, or is there something far worse than madness at play?

***

I hope this copy ignited a spark. The arrival of my new book in 2026 sparks joy for me. You can check out an alternate version of my back jacket copy on my website books page. See below. Kindle preorders are open with print orders to come! :) 

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