Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Do you know what the problem is in this beautiful world? -S.M. Bjarnson

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

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