Hello!
Can anyone tell me what the problem is today in this society we live in?
I am sure you can conjure up more than a couple of good hardy excuses.
But in my head I have one I keep imagining!
We do not take chances on things we do not know.
In short, we are scared of change!
I am a 3 time self-published author as of last week!
My books maybe have sold a couple or so copies.
Why is it so hard to convince readers and individuals that your books, or your stories are worth your time?
I feel like saying this A LOT!!!!
READ MY BOOK
READ IT!!!
I KNOW YOU WILL ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT IF YOU WOULD JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE TO BE SOMETHING OTHER THAN A PAPERWEIGHT!!!
I understand the heavy grammatical errors that sometimes do reside in these indie written pages.
But, with a little effort and support you could get the word out and maybe we could actually get our work into a mainstream social group.
I' don't care about New York Best selling or Prize winning, I really don't because all that says to me, is that you were benefited in a way others were not.
So read a book! fact read my book!
PLEASE!!!
COMPEL YOURSELF INTO THE UNKNOWN!!!
Summer heat broke records even the state
of California tried to deny. Huntington Beach (HB) stood beautiful amongst the
ripples of white tips in the blue waves. I catered to the inkling of joining a
fling. It was summer, and I wanted to experience as much as immaturity as my
mother would let me. On the pier stood absolution of an outstretched arm
welcoming an adventurous spirit.
There it was. Not something you could see
right away like a surfer on the open waves. But it was still there, waiting
patiently and quietly inside my adolescent body. This thing would become human
and breathe air only months from now.
No U-turns ahead to make this reversible,
to make this statement of where my body had laid and with whom. The evidence
was always against me. Rubee, my alcoholic mother standing by prosecuting me
for the dumbfounded predicament I found myself reflecting. Briton and Noah
standing before me with question marks. Not necessarily about love, but about
who the baby might indeed belong too. I grew up to this point at age 17. I had
become like my mother, although not so promiscuous. Her temper of rage and
tricks lined the outskirts of our abode. Escape could be a challenge although
freedom would finally feel like a good friend welcoming me home. Tough choices
to be made, but they were mine alone to make. I found a guilty conscious in the
way Noah pleaded to remove the child from inside me. Briton's hushed tones made
it clear he would be distant for the time being. I look back to the beginning
of the summer and find myself wishing the only thing I ever wanted was to surf
and not fall in love. At my age isn't first love or second inevitable? Aren't
girls my age dying to be fondled and caressed in a saturated way that brings
belief into their hearts that, that is what real love is?
I've pretended to fall in love with one
out of two gentleman. They both catered back the same equivalent feelings.
Hills and valleys will let us know if our
succession is relevant or rather a mistake of guidance on our elders part. We
are children being led away with a string or a rope, led to another world where
our imagination is held captive and our irrelevant lives became purposeful.
As we drove past the coastline there was a
small sunrise bonfire dying on the shore. All that were left in the dying
crackles of the burning flames were the unspoken words of the sacrificing
mother.
The Sacrificing
Mother (43,000 words) is an alluring tale of a young woman’s journey. Through
first loves and forceful waves, the struggle to decide to become a mother is
definite. Besides surfing and boys, Laney Rhodes takes on a task that requires
an amount of strenuous courage to define another one human being.
S.M. BJARNSON
