The Universe is a Very Strange Place

First scene from sequel to The Universe is a Very Big Place.
Still in rough draft format, just wanted people to know I'm working on it :)

     Spring Ryan Smith strolled confidently into the lobby of Parenting Plus, her long blond hair tied back in a sleek pony tail, a brown leather brief case under her arm. Upon entering the building she immediately noticed that something was different about the place she had worked at the last ten years; namely that it was empty.

“Is today a holiday?” she wondered aloud, checking the calendar on her smart phone. When it came up empty she asked her digital, personal assistant. “Miri, is today a holiday?”

“Today is only a holiday if you are a resident of Eastern Yemen,” Miri replied back.

Hmmm.

Spring looked around once more, noting that not only were her co-workers AWOL, some of the office furniture had disappeared as well. Chairs mostly, a few staplers. A computer or two.

Panic spread through her as she considered the possibilities. The first thing that came to mind was that the end times had come, just as her mother Lanie had predicted, and she had been left behind. “I should have paid more attention to those men who came to my door wearing suits,” she said, recalling the incident that had happened just last week. They were trying to tell her about ‘the good news’ but all she could think about was that she were missing a rerun of Lost and she had never figured out what was happening the first time she watched it.

She inhaled and exhaled rapidly, wondering if she were equipped to fight off people looking for food. Then she remembered her empty pantry. She would be one of those people looking for food.

She fanned herself with her free hand, until she was able to think rationally. She had driven through a coffee shop on her way to work and the place was full. If Armageddon had come, it wasn’t the the prideful who had been left behind, it was the coffee drinkers.

“Hello?” she called, checking offices up and down the short corridor. “Anyone here?”

The rooms were empty and there was not a soul in sight.

“Hello?” she called again, wondering if she’d missed an office retreat. Her mind had been scattered lately, with thoughts of her twins returning from Hawaii with their father, and her husband’s addiction to video games. It wasn’t inconceivable that she had forgotten something.

“Spring!”

A woman’s voice at the far end of the hall called to her and Spring strode quickly in that direction. She pushed open a door to see the Vice President of Parenting Plus, a gray haired woman of her mother’s age named Matilda. She stood behind her desk, packing up cardboard boxes. “What are you doing here? Didn’t they call you?”

“Um, maybe.” Spring had spent the weekend trying to entice her husband John away from his game controller. That included a home made dinner, a new nightie, and a phone on silence. The only thing she had gotten from her efforts was a quickie, a kiss on the cheek, and an announcement that the new War Gods of Ashria game would be out Tuesday at midnight and they needed to spend the evening in line to secure a copy.

“We’re jumping ship,” Matilda said, taping up one box and opening another. “We lost our lease.”

“Oh. Where are we moving? I saw a great office space downtown that would work if we haven't picked one out yet.”

    Matilda adjusted her glasses and stared at Spring, expressionless. “We lost funding too. The recession’s hit us all. The good news is that we may be able to draw unemployment for a while."

“What?” Spring plopped down into the last remaining office chair, dropping her briefcase. “I don’t understand.”

“Havnt you been keeping up with anything? At least three other social service agencies have shut their doors in the last six months. Parenting is out. Obesity prevention is in.”

Truth was, Spring had heard the rumors but the likelihood of the place closing down seemed as far fetched as her wearing skinny jeans. “What am I going to do?” she asked, pulling the band out of her hair and chewing on the ends. “Its not like there are loads of jobs for social workers in Sedona.”

“Hell, Spring, I don’t know. That husband of yours does okay for himself, right? Take some time off, get a hobby, volunteer. Find a life.”

“A life?”

“A life. It’s what people do when they aren’t working. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

Matilda slammed her last box closed and piled three into her arms. She walked out of the office and down the dark hall, Spring following closely behind.

“What will you do?” Spring asked when they got to the front door. She wanted to hug the woman, her last link to the agency, but she knew from experience Matilda wasn’t the hugging kind.

“I had three years ‘til my pension kicked in.” She shook her head, her gray hair hardly moving. “I hear The Burger Ranch is hiring.” She pursed her lips together an pushed through the door, not bothering to lock it behind her.“You think you have everything figured out and then boom, the rug’s pulled out from under you.”

“The Universe…” Spring said.

“The Universe?”

“Yes. Like my mother says, it's a very strange place.”

The Universe is a Very Big Place - Lanie Moves In

Short excerpt from The Universe is a Very Big Place. 

Lanie wandered around the kitchen, arms raised in homage to some god or another. Her black muumuu with its bright purple flowers and her neon red hair gave her a clown-like appearance.

"How can anyone not notice her?" Sam said, turning to face the woman. By the way Lanie’s fleshy body undulated beneath her dress, Spring could tell that Chloe had been feeding her well....

"Don’t mind me," said Lanie, picking up the serving bowl filled with Sam’s special mousse. She ran her finger along the inside rim and put it to her mouth. "Yuck. Who the hell eats coffee pudding? I’m a coffee drinker and I don’t even eat this shit." Lanie set the bowl down and retreated towards the living room. Six o’clock meant that it was time for her medication and The Wheel of Fortune.

"How long?" Sam asked as Lanie flopped into his recliner.

"Not that long. Just until she’s done with menopause."

"Menopause?" Sam’s voice trembled. "Doesn’t that take years? Why can’t she get her own place?"

"Apparently the carnival didn’t provide a very good retirement package. But she did offer to give you free Tarot Card readings for life."

Sam’s eyes narrowed as Lanie flipped through the channels. "Can she predict if I will be found guilty in an upcoming murder trial?"
"Sam!"

They watched as Lanie sat in the living room, one hand on the remote control, the other fanning herself. "Oh, Lordy," she grunted. "Why the hell did you pick Arizona to settle in? Arizona is too fuckin’ hot. I’m old. I might die."

"Only if we’re lucky," Sam said.

FREE Book Giveaway

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Tips for New Writers

I get asked all the time now what advice I would give to new writers. After some careful consideration I've narrowed it down to four things:

1. Develop a thick skin. Your mom may love your poems. Your spouse may adore your short stories. Your college teacher may tell you that you are the next Hemingway.  But in the real world, outside of our safety bubble, not everyone is going to like everything you write. And that's okay. Its part of the process. From time to time you may experience rejection, criticism, and even downright loathing. You can't let this get to you. There are many great stories that never would have been born if the writer had given up because a few people didn't like it. Stay true to yourself and keep at it.

2. Listen to Criticism. This goes hand in hand with #1. When people are critiquing your work, really listen to what they are saying. They might have insight you just aren't seeing. Use the helpful stuff and throw away the rest. Ultimately it's your work and you need to make it the best you can, but that doesn't mean taking every suggestion someone throws out.

3. Keep a Journal. Keeping a journal and recording my innermost thoughts and feelings helped me develop my voice. It also helped me to write honestly. When I started writing my novels I no longer tried to write like Tolkien or King. I was writing as myself. This was all thanks to the countless hours I spent working on my diary.




4. Read. Most authors I know were inspired to write because of the books they had read. That shouldn't change just because you are now writing and feel strapped for time. In fact, it should be more important. You need to read to see what else is out there, what is relevant, what makes you feel good, what makes you feel nothing. The one thing I caution is to guard against the tendency to write in the style of whoever you are reading. It is okay to be inspired by someones style. It is not okay to copy them.




5. Write Daily. I've heard countless successful authors say that with every writing session their craft improved. I have to agree. At some point things just start to 'click'. I can't say what the trigger is, but there's an aha moment and the words seem to flow out effortlessly. In fact, it almost feels like cheating. To get to that point you need to do three things: Practice. Practice. Practice.


*
April Aasheim is the author of The Witches of Dark Root http://amzn.com/B00D6OUDDG
and The Universe is a Very Big Place http://amzn.com/B008QSTLQ2

The Magick of Dark Root (Prologue Sneak Peek)

    Prologue

Dark Root, Oregon

Winter Solstice

The Distant Past

Sasha Benbridge ran through the forest, her brown hair tumbling from its pin curls and unfurling down her slender back. Light on her toes and nimble with youth, she rushed towards the spot where she had seen the silver cord of lightning strike the earth just minutes before. Excitement threatened to swallow her up as she raced towards her destination. Her mother had prophesied that she would find her tree today, and Sasha had never known her mother to be wrong, at least in matters of witchcraft.

“Hurry,” she whispered aloud, though her voice was lost to the wind that whipped through the endless forest around her. She quickened her pace, leaping over the debris that shrouded her path. She couldn’t risk losing her tree. At twenty years old she had waited too long already. But today was the day she would take her wand and come into her full power as a witch. She just knew it.

She heard the rush of water and could make out snatches of sunlight ahead of her. She must be near a meadow. Good. Though she was a daughter of the woods she wanted a clear view of her surroundings before she performed the ritual.

To Sasha’s right she glimpsed a large, dark shape crouching among the trees. She could only hope it was a bear. There were more frightening things in this forest than wild animals, and until she had the wand in her hands, she wasn't sure if she could match the worst of them. She touched the amulet that hung around her neck and said a brief spell of protection. The shape slunk backwards and disappeared.

At last the forest opened up into a wide clearing, cut through the middle by a swift-moving river that disappeared into the woods on either end. There were many rivers in and around Dark Root, but the waters here looked deeper and more treacherous than any Sasha had seen before. This one fed on the lesser tributaries of the region, she thought, devouring them whole on its journey towards the ocean.

In the center of the meadow, on the top of a slope just feet from the river, stood a solitary tree: a thirty-foot-tall willow with moonbeam-colored boughs that fell to the earth in smooth, clean arcs like half-formed rainbows. The earth around the tree was wet, and Sasha approached it carefully. One misplaced step and she could slide into the river.

The branches wafted in the wind like long, sinuous fingers beckoning her forward. Sasha lifted several of the lower boughs and ducked into the tree’s canopy. It was darker in this secret chamber but she could still discern the smooth trunk from which the boughs sprang. Sasha crept towards it, one hand gripping her amulet as she reached forward with the other. A witch only gets one wand and she had to be certain. When her hands found the trunk she felt a jolt of electricity, a small jolt that nearly stopped her heart. A wide smile crossed Sasha’s face. Her mother’s prophesy had been correct. This was her tree.

Satisfied, she left the tree’s cover and stood before the willow. The sun had settled behind the mountains to the East but the tree was still aglow, lit up by the soil from which it grew. Being the only willow in the region, Sasha knew it had absorbed all the magic rich nutrients reserved for trees of its kind. Her fingers tingled as she pondered the possibilities.

“Blessed tree,” she began, kneeling before the willow, her arms outstretched. “My name is Sasha Benbridge and I have come to ask your permission to take a bough in order to create my wand. I am pure of heart and will not use its magick to inflict harm to others.”

Sasha waited, watching for a response from the tree. At last the boughs began to bob, as if to say yes. Sasha stood, retrieving the small knife from her garter, concealed beneath her white cotton dress. She displayed the knife to the tree, giving the willow a moment to reconsider. When it did not move, she stepped forward.  

“I'm sorry if this hurts,” she whispered as she carefully sawed off branch the length of her forearm. The tree flinched and she stroked it until it calmed. Finally, the branch fell from the tree. “Thank you,” she said, encircling her palm around its severed limb. Within seconds the warmth of her touch healed the tree.

In her peripheral Sasha noticed a shape emerge from the woods: a tall, lank figure in a scarlet cloak. Sasha turned her head to the figure. “Larinda, were you following me? I suppose you will run to mother and tell on me? Well, she knows I’m here and…”

“Dear cousin,” Larinda interrupted. “You misjudge my intentions. I’m only here because I was worried about you. It is getting dark and I saw you run off into the forest. What possessed you to run off so far into the woods on the night of the Solstice?”

 

Sasha held out the branch. “At last, I have found my wand.”

Larinda threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing hair as black as the night and skin as pale as the moon. Her thin red lips curled up, somewhere between a snarl and a smile. “You have waited so long, already, dear cousin. What makes this branch so special?”

“It is from a willow. The only of its kind in Dark Root. And,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “it was kissed by lightning. Doubly blessed!”

“A willow? Will you devote your life to the healing arts then?” Larinda’s face could no longer contain her contempt. “Perhaps you will become a nurse, walking the battlefields like Clara Barton.”

“Perhaps,” Sasha answered, her eyes fixing on her wand. “But theres so much more. Don’t you see Larinda, with this wood, and the magic that runs through our blood, I can live forever if I choose!” She raised her face to her cousins, waiting for Larinda to grasp the implications.

“You mean…” Larinda turned her attention on the willow tree.

“Yes. As long as the tree remains alive, so will I.”

“But willows don’t live that long.”

“In Dark Root they do.” Sasha ran her fingers over the sleek wood in her hands. “And I can give it a little help.”

Larinda charged at the tree, yanking at one of it’s limbs. “I want that power. I didn’t know about it. It isn't fair.” But the branches pulled back and Larinda could not touch a one.

“You have your wand,” Sasha said. “And it is a good wand. Illusion is a powerful magic.”

“Nothing is as powerful as the gift of eternal life,” Larinda said. “You get everything and I get nothing.”

 

Sasha placed her hand on her cousin’s shoulder to comfort her. “You are my blood. I will use the wand on you as well. All of our family. We will be young forever, together. Now, help me protect the tree. We must keep this to ourselves. Promise?”

“If you promise to always take care of me.”

 

“Yes, my darling. Now we must hurry back. Tonight is the solstice and mother says we need to perform a ceremony to keep out those who wish to use the magic of Dark Root against us. And then, she will pass the circle onto me.”

The two women turned back towards the forest. Larinda gave the tree a final glance. “Sasha. What will we do with eternal youth?”

Sasha smiled, lifting her chin towards the waning sun before entering the darkness of the woods. “I’m going to travel. Become an actress. Have a million lovers. And be famous. Maybe change my name to something more theatrical. After all, what good is magic if you don’t use it?”

First Draft Editing for The Magick of Dark Root

Just started editing my first draft for The Magick of Dark Root. Thought I'd give you all a glimpse of the creative process, which is actually less creative and more of a process. Still, its so exciting to get that far along in a project. Hoping this will be out by May 2014. The sequel to The Witches of Dark Root is about life, what it means and why we are here. Oh, and there will be a zombie. Gotta have a zombie.

Taking the O out of ROmance

It might be a shocker for those of you who have read my stuff, but Valentine's Day has never held much romantic interest for me. I love love of course. When it's true and from the heart. But setting aside a special day just to commemorate it seems a bit ironic if you ask me.

Not to mention most of my friends growing up have been guys. Most of them never put much stock into Valentine's Day. They either waited until the last minute and grabbed something on the way home, or went all out because it was a new relationship or they had done something REALLY, REALLY bad. And when their girlfriends gave them a card they acted like it was torture to have to read the entire poem printed on the inside and then express back to her just what it meant to him (what it meant was that he wasn't watching the Lakers game for the past 4 minutes). Its no wonder Im a bit of a cynic when it comes to V-Day. As a matter of fact, I just asked my husband for the cash so I could buy my own gift. Of course, gift certificates work too.

Not that we aren't planning on being romantic. We have a few hours set aside today just for us, followed by a couples massage and a dinner out. But he need not get the flowers or the candy or the stuffed bear. Candy makes me fat, flowers wilt, and a stuffed bear will just be used as a body pillow.

Keeping with my not so romantic theme here are a few discussions around my house this week regarding the upcoming V-Day...

Valentine's Gifts Discussion:
Husband: Would you like lingerie for Valentine's Day?
Me: Don't buy a woman lingerie.
Husband: Why?
Me: If its too big its an insult, too small its painful. PLUS, its a gift for you.
Husband: I don't understand.
Me: Think of something I'd never buy myself.
Husband: That's why I said lingerie!

Romance:
Me: You forgot to give me a card on our anniversary!
Husband: You didn't give me a card either.
Me: I don't have to. Im a woman.

Husband talks romance and valentines day.
"I don't really like romance but I know some people appreciate it so I try and so some stuff." Oh my beating heart.

I talk sex:
Me: "Is it an on night or an off night?"
Husband: "Why do you ask?"
Me: "I'm trying to decide if I should wear cute underwear or grannies to bed."
Husband: "Just wear the grannies. That killed the mood."

Husband: Why is your cat always watching us? It gives me the creeps.

Men Buying Cards

Was just in Target in the greeting card section. There were about a dozen of us women all lined up, reading every card, oohing and awing as we opened and closed each one.
One by one we decided on the perfect Valentine and moved on, allowing someone else to fill up our section in the line. On average, it took us each about ten to fifteen minutes.

What struck me was the men who filtered into our group. Many of them saw a card, opened it, scanned it, then put it into their carts without a second glance at another card.
One pair of men (who were obviously friends)struck up this conversation:
Man 1: That card (you are holding) looks perfect for my girlfriend. Can you hand me one too?
Man 2: Sure. We haven't introduced them yet, have we? *laugh*
Man 1: No, dude. Let's wait until after Valentine's Day for that.
Man 2: We done shopping?
Man 1: Yep.

And they say romance is dead.

Excerpt from The Magick of Dark Root (Coming Soon)

Nineteen 

There are nights when you question just about everything: who you are, where you've come from, what your purpose is, and how you got to your current place in life.

And then there are nights when you just accept things.

Nights like this, when you stand beneath a bloated yellow moon, digging a shallow grave for the man you murdered -- a man who probably has a wife and children, a job and a mother -- a man who probably wouldn't have tried to molest your kid sister if you weren't out hustling money in the first place and if she hadn't been wearing a perfume meant to turn men into drunken love slaves.

These are the nights you try not to think. Because if you think - about the corpse sitting in the passenger seat of his own car just a dozen feet away, about your inability to determine wrong from right anymore, about the fact that your mother was right, you are a fence sitter just like your father - you just might go mad.

And I couldn't go mad. Not yet anyway. It was Thanksgiving, officially, and I wasn't going to let this little incident ruin the holidays. I had already screwed up and not gotten Merry her organic turkey. One fuck up per holiday was all I could handle.

“No,” I said, hearing myself speak the words as I plunged my shovel into the earth and tossed out another spade full of sand. “I can’t go mad until after the holidays. It’s just five more weeks, if you count New Years.”

“Maggie, you okay?” Merry stopped digging and faced me, her eyes wide with concern. In this lighting, as her golden hair framed her round face, she looked more angelic than ever. “You can take a break if you need to. We’ll be okay.”

“Me? I’m fine, Merry. Thanks for asking.”

I caught my sisters shooting each other knowing looks, looks that said I wasn’t all right, in fact I’d lost my marbles.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, throwing out an extra large helping of dirt and wondering how much deeper we would need to dig. The spell said to encase the subject in a box then bury him under the light of a full moon, but it didn't’ specify how deep the grave needed to be. An unhelpful omission, if you ask me. Since the subject would eventually dig his way out of it, clawing his way through the makeshift coffin and layers of sand over his face, I conjectured we shouldn't dig it too deeply. Just an inch or two above the box should do it.

We had one lucky break, however. We had killed him on a night with a full moon. If I’ve learned anything from this little ordeal it’s that if you are going to commit murder, and have any intention of bringing the deceased back to life, always plan it around a full moon. Lucky break for Maggie!

“I think,” I said, continuing to dig, “that this might be a lucrative business. Bringing people back from the dead. If it works out, we might start charging for it. Gotta bring in more money than that stupid magick store does.”

“Maggie, stop,” Eve said, wiping her forehead with her cashmere gloves, which were now caked in mud.

“I’m just saying…why not? We can call it Zombies R Us. You kill ‘em, we heal ‘em.” I grinned at Ruth Anne, sure she would appreciate my joke. She shook her head and continued digging. “What?” I asked, throwing my shovel onto the ground. “Are we too good for death jokes now?”

Merry pressed her lips together. “Honey, you’ve had a terrible shock and now its setting in. Go sit on the steps and we’ll finish this. We’ll call you when it’s done.”

“No!” The sound that came out of me pierced the night, like the call of a wounded screech owl. I waved at the air with both hands, as if I were being assaulted by an invisible man, tears stinging my eyes. “I won’t sit by while my sisters bury the man I…” I choked, unable to finish the sentence. “Neither hell nor jail is good enough for me.”

I felt someone’s arms wrap around me, and recognized the scent, vanilla and lavender, as Merry’s. I hyperventilated, choking on my own snot, as she cooed me to quiet. “It’s okay, honey,” she said, running her fingers through my matted hair as she worked out the knots. “It will be okay.”

How could I explain to her that she was wrong? Nothing would ever be the same. Even if we did manage to raise him, I was a killer. I had the deathtouch, just like my father. And there was no going back from that.

“What if we can’t do it, Merry?” I sniffed, wiping my nose on her shoulder as I stared at the Christmas tree box we had retrieved from the basement; the box that would soon be a coffin.

“We will,” she said, pulling the hair stuck from tears away from my face. “And everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

“I think this is deep enough,” Ruth Anne announced, tossing her shovel onto the ground as Eve followed suit. “We’d better hurry.”

I took one final sob of self-pity and nodded. Merry grabbed my hand and we marched to the car.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the man as I opened the passenger door. He was still buckled in, staring straight ahead. I leaned over and removed his seat belt, feeling the coldness of his skin as we hefted him out of the car. You hear that dead bodies grow cold, but you don’t know how cold. It’s not the type of cold you’d find in a freezer or in snow. It’s an empty type of cold, like floating in deep space. A coldness without hope.
**
For the first book in the series click here: The Witches of Dark Root: Book One

New Cover. Now Just 99 Cents!

In honor of a new cover for The Witches of Dark Root, I am offering it for just 99 cents to download from Amazon for a limited time. (Note, the free book deal expired Feb 13th. Sorry.)


Four sisters return to their hometown of Dark Root to save a cursed mother and a town that has lost its magic. Will love prevail, or will the darkness take them all?

Worst Restaurant Names and Concepts

Staring to brainstorm ideas for the sequel to The Universe is a Very Big Place. For those of you who haven't read it, its a romantic comedy (emphasis on comedy). Thinking of names for the worst restaurants and food concept establishments in a small town environment. Here are the ones that didn't make the cut.

1. In and Out Mexican Food (the name speaks for itself)
2. To-Foods (like Whole Foods but they sell only tofu based items)
3. The Green Pea (Country diner and free clinic)
4. The Petri Dish (not so fine French cuisine)
5. The Bachteria (a family friendly, all you can eat place that plays classical music)
6. Pick a Chick (you meet your hen before its cooked)
7. A Taste of Phish (seafood buffet with patchouli and tie-dye décor)
8. Cravings (a place for pregnant women to go and combine any manner of disgusting foods)
9. Thai-Foid Kitchen (a small typo in the sign that was never corrected)
10. Happy Foods All You Can Eat Panda Buffet (another typo, but its up, what can you do?)
11. Jesus Pizzas (guaranteed delivery before the rapture)
12. Smart Alex Trivia Café (a Jeopardy themed restaurant. Its specialty is green Jello shaped like a brain.
13. The Sausage Fest (very popular in certain communities and with women ages 45-65)
14. Scavengers (find your food with a series of clues before somebody else does)
15. The Hot Log (Giant wieners fit for a lumberjack sized hunger)
16. Prawneria (spicy sea creatures)

**

April Aasheim is the author of The Witches of Dark Root (3.49)

and The Universe is a Very Big Place (2.99). Both available on Amazon.

First Draft Done

It's official. Today I finished the first draft to the sequel of The Witches of Dark Root. It is 93,000 words long and I was crying at the end.

Now to put it away for several weeks and then take it out again, to begin the arduous process of the second draft. The first draft is creative but tough, the second draft, at least for me, is brutal.

At least for the next few weeks I can work on other things now that my head isn't tied into the book. Updating my blog is high up on my list.

For those of you who keep asking: The Magick of Dark Root probably won't be available until at least May. If I put it out now I doubt you could read it :)

Thanks for all the support!

April

Quotes From Hubby

Things my husband has said to me this week:

What's a hashtag and where can I get me some of them?

I'm not bald. Bald is when your hair falls out. I shave my head. I'm bare.

Where do we keep the lunchmeat?

We have conversations all the time. You talk to me with the expectation that I will listen. That's a conversation.

How do you cook a hotdog?

Fat Cat

My cat weighs 11.5 pounds. I'm not sure if that's good or not. Hes about 10 months old and steadily gaining. Of course, when you're a cat, one pound makes a difference between svelt and obese. Kinda like my five foot frame. Maybe I need to put us both on a diet.

My New Year's Manifesto

Life is short. Don't waste it trying to prove your worth to others. How you feel about yourself is the only thing that matters.
Love wildly, with abandon, and without expecting anything in return.
Cry at sad movies and cheer inappropriately at the ends of really great ones.
Read poetry in the rain. Revel in the words of those who came before you.
Dance to your favorite songs, even if the music is playing only in your head.
Share your wisdom but accept that every person has to find their own path and their own way. Nothing teaches like experience.
Do something silly at least once a day. Twice on Saturdays.
Wear bright colors on the days you don't want to be seen.
Ask someone about their story. You'd be surprised what you may learn.
See the world through the eyes of a child. Innocence is our only salvation.
Eat chocolate before dinner.
Do something that's not on your to-do list. Better yet, crumple up your to-do list. Make a to-be list instead.
Speak honestly but kindly.
Treat yourself with compassion. There is only one you.
And you are a light in the world.

My Favorite All Time Reads

Just compiling a list of my all time favorite reads as I start my new year. I'm hoping that by next year I will have even more books that will have such lasting effects as these have had on me.

On the Road: So I only read this last spring but I have a feeling this one will stay with me a long time. The narrators passion and exuberance for life and adventure make him a sympathetic character, even when he's doing things that shouldn't evoke sympathy. This book stands the test of time.

Gone with the Wind: I first read this book when I was 16, then again at 24. Now a full-fledged adult (complete with cellulite and a mortgage) I tried reading it again to see if it was really 'all that'. And yes, it was. Mitchell is a marvelous writer who makes an unlikable character likable and transports you back into another era. I realize there's content we may not find politically correct nowadays, but I'm a firm believer in not censoring something or pretending it didn't exist. It is only through reminders of how things used to be that we make any progress at all.

Wuthering Heights: More unlikable characters but I was rooting for Heathcliff and Cathy the entire book. They are reckless, careless, and terribly in love but, because of Catherine's pride, are kept apart. It is only in death that they are able to be together. Over the top? Yes. But deliciously so.

Fingerprints of the Gods: Before there was Ancient Aliens on TV there were books like Graham Hancock's Fingerprints of the Gods. This book makes the case that at one time there was an advanced human society walking the earth destroyed by a massive flood. Atlantis anyone? This book changed the way I looked at everything. Looking forward to the sequel.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland: I read this when I was 14 and though I couldn't get all the political humor, I knew, even then, that it was a work of art. Jabberwocky is still my second favorite poem (right behind The Raven) and I can still flip through the book and find a passage that is relevant and interesting. This is a book with layers that both children and adults can appreciate.

Fried Green Tomatoes at Whistlestop Café: The book that turned me into a lover (and a writer) of women's fiction. Fannie Flagg has a way of weaving humor and drama into all of her books and in my opinion this is her very best work. A story that's both humorous and poignant, a story that still plays through my mind.

Where the Heart Is. Maybe its because I was a teen parent myself who also grew up in 'homes on wheels', but I could really sympathize with Novalee. She proved that your past didn't dictate your future and that as long as you had love you had hope. I reread this book many times when I was seeking reassurance and validation in my own life. It also strengthened my love of
women's fiction.

The Princess Bride (The Good Parts). The story was good and I read the book shortly after seeing it in the theatre with my dad (five times) but what really got to me about the book was the narrators voice. He was real and raw and his words still echo through my head "who says life is fair?" It was a contrast between the beauty of the fairy tale and the stark reality of a real, not quite what we hoped for, sort of life. Lifes not a fairy tale but we can still look to them to pull us through. That's what fairy tales are for.

Clan of the Cave Bear (and its sequels). I was thrilled when I moved to Oregon and learned that Jean Auel is a native. I loved her books and they opened my eyes to a world of human ingenuity and determination. In the later books I think they gave Ayla credit for far too many things, but her character and her world was still so interesting. I even named my half-wolf dog Ayla in honor of how much I loved these books.

What Dreams May Come. Yep, Im a weirdo, as for the next month after finishing this story I actually wanted to die and visit this picture of heaven that the author created. I wasn't afraid of death, at least not then. Beautiful book with an important message: we go on.

A Man Who Looked Like Jesus

While standing in the checkout line on Christmas Eve with my mother we spy a Time Magazine. On its cover is a giant picture of Jesus.

Mother wanders over to the picture and begins to trace the lines of his hair with her fingers. In a very loud voice she says, "do you know who this looks like?"

At this, the entire line turns in her direction.

"Jesus?" I answer.

"Well, yes, but..."

"Every rock star from the 70's?"

"Oh, them too, but..."

"But?"

There is snickering from the crowd as my mother attempts to sort this out in her brain.
"A famous pool player I used to date. Back when you were a baby."

I hold my tongue. My mom dated a lot of people 'back when I was a baby'. So eager was she to regain her figure and her dating life that I've been told I was weaned while still in the uterus.

"Yes," she says, spurred on by the entire line of last minute shoppers who were her captive audience by now. "How do you think I learned to hustle pool?"

"I have no idea."

"He put ball bearings in his pool stick to help with balance," mother said, demonstrating as she held an imaginary stick over the conveyor belt, lining it up against three cans of corn. "No one could whoop me when I had his stick in my hands."

At that the crowd behind us burst into laughter and mother repeated, "its true."

"That's nice," I say as the checker calls us to pay for our goods.

"Maybe I should buy the magazine," mother continues, looking at it wistfully and mentally calculating whether or not she can afford the 8.99 asking price. It's a steep price for a senior living on a fixed income.

"Its a lot of money," I say, always the voice of reason.

"Yes," she agrees. "But every time I look at Jesus I can think about my pool hustling days and my old boyfriends. It might be worth it."

"And that," I said, grabbing my bags, "is what Christmas is really all about."

FREE DEC 28TH!!!

The Witches of Dark Root!

Free Dec 28th for your new Kindle. 99 cents after that through Jan 1!

Mrs Claus Has Had Enough

(This came about as a challenge to write a 500 word humorous Christmas Story)

Goody Clause and the Christmas Purpose

Tippy, tippy, tap. Little elven feet exploded on tabletops, whirling and twirling to the rhythm of a tambourine. Weekend dads posed with their kids as reporters clicked cameras. The North Pole was busy this time of year. Mrs. Clause – Goody to her friends - smiled for a quick shot and then excused herself to ‘bake cookies’.

Inside the office, Goody kicked off her shoes and slid out of her Spanx. She surveyed the room. Even in this sanctuary toys were stacked ceiling high. She reached for a cookie, thought better of it, and turned away. Even her Spanx needed Spanx. A growling noise caught her attention and she turned to see her husband sleeping in his favorite chair, a concerned wrinkle across his brow. “Poor dear,” she said, covering him and kissing his cheek. With only two weeks till Christmas he had been putting in long hours, and it was beginning to show.

Goody sighed, remembering simpler times. Dolls for girls. Trains for boys.  Coal for the naughty. Nowadays everyone wanted dolls that peed and trains that moved. And Elves didn’t make batteries. Santa had to outsource that job to China.

And kids today…one toy wasn’t enough…they had lists! And now with the population tipping at seven billion… Goody furrowed her brow. She wasn’t good at mat, but she knew there were not enough elves in the Arctic to accommodate that load.

“That’s it,” she said, flopping into the computer chair. “I wash my hands of this. Santa’s exhausted and I’m fat. We’re moving to Belize.” Goody flipped on her husband’s computer and fantasized about her new life. She had spent the last 200 years baking, smiling, and feeding reindeer. Maybe now she could work out, play Bunco, and watch Oprah. She could find her purpose.

She was googling ‘things to do in Belize’ when an odd blinking light appeared in the corner of her monitor. Alarmed that she had broken something, she almost roused Santa. Then she noticed it was a message. A magic, coded message!

Dear Santa,

I no u r buzy but can I plz have a doll for xmas. I need some1 to luv me.

Mary Dryer

Goody shook her head as an image of Mary Dryer popped into her memory. A dark-haired beauty with large eyes. A child who wanted just one doll for Christmas. Goody groaned as Google summoned up pictures of a Belizean beach.

“Well, darn it,” she said, rolling the chair to the doll shelf across the room. She searched until she found the perfect one: a cuddly darling that didn’t pee.  “You will be well loved,” she said, giving the doll a kiss and sending it to the sleigh.

Goody watched as 100 linking lights filled the monitor.

Santa yawned. “Good nap. Anything interesting happen while I was out?”

“Yes. You got yourself a new assistant.”

“I did? Who?”

Goody stood, dusting crumbs from her gown. “Why, me of course. I just found my purpose.”

 

 *

April Aasheim maintains an active blog and is the writer of The Witches of Dark Root

Spring Gets News

The Universe is a Very Big Place will be on sale all week at Amazon as an ebook (.99 - 1.99) I will be posting excerpts throughout the week.


1997

“Come on, come on.” Spring tapped the little white stick against her knees, willing it to change color.

“I don’t think that’s gonna help,” Jason said. He was standing with his back pressed against the door of their stall, looking down at her. She should have stood too. It seemed like a standing occasion.  But after she had peed on the stick her knees refused to make the trip upward. They had just ceased to work. “If you keep messing with that stick you might skew the results.”

Spring shot him a look. “Since when do you use words like skew?”

Jason released his brown hair from the rubber band at the nape of his neck, only to gather it back up into a small pony tail and secure it again. He had done this at least a dozen times while they had waited for the results. “It’s one syllable. Don’t be shocked.”

Spring looked at the stick again. The little pink cross in the window had darkened, almost to a crimson red. She was not only pregnant. She was really, really pregnant. She thrust the stick at Jason and fell forward, cradling her knees. “Oh god!” Jason went to pat her head but she pulled away. “Please just stop.”

He said nothing as he squatted down beside. She could feel him listening to her, waiting for the sobs to subside. He had no problem fighting her, but he was at a loss when she cried. She took a deep breath to calm herself, a trick Lanie had taught her when she younger. She had suffered anxiety from crowds then, a job hazard for any carnie. “Breathe in, breath out,” Lanie had instructed her. “Find your center. C’mon girl. Stop breathing like you just run a fucking marathon. Slowly. In. out. Release.”

 Once she had calmed he reached for her hair, letting the baby fine strands of yellow-white ribbon slide through his fingers. She didn’t let many people touch her hair, but she let him. “I suppose,” she said, looking up at him with red, tear-stained eyes, “that purchasing a condom from a rusted machine in the lobby of Ed’s Guns and Exotic Animal Shoppe was probably not our wisest move.” She sobbed and laughed at the same time and felt a long line of snot fall from her nose. Jason grabbed a wad of toilet paper and caught it.

“You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here.”

Spring felt the wail in her throat and fought it. She was angry right now, and she was afraid she would say something she regretted. “I just got accepted into Arizona State,” she said, drying her eyes on the back of her hand. “After three years of struggling to get through Community College so that I could leave this… life behind, things were starting to change for me. Now what?”

“You can still go. This isn’t the 50’s.Girls go to school pregnant all the time. Even on TV.”

"I don’t want to go pregnant!” She started crying again and she tucked her face into her skirt, smearing mascara across the hem. He didn’t get it. “I wanted to go…hot.”

Jason laughed. “Hot’s what got you into this mess, my dear. You’re too hot for your own good.”

Spring snorted and took the tissue Jason offered her. He knew her too well. They had been friends for years, but a few drinks and a slow night slinging cotton candy last fall had changed it all. Now they were bound together, one way or another. As Lanie would say, their fate strings had gotten all jumbled up.

“I got a crazy idea,” he said, pulling her up by the arms. He was a good six inches taller than her and smelled like French fries and Old Spice. “Why don’t we get married? We’ve been practically living together in my van for the last six months. Why not make it official?” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “Just think…you, me, the little Bambino, touring the country side together. If he’s musically inclined we could start a family band. Be like the Partridges. Only not so gay.”

 I could, she thought, nuzzling into him. He was safe and warm and familiar. She remembered the day her mother had picked him up on the side of the road nine six  earlier. “Hitch hiking to Santa Cruz” he had said, off to pursue his music career. He never made it to Santa Cruz. Once he learned how much money could be made hustling kids out of their allowance to see The Half Monkey Lady, he had settled in. That was the way it was here. The Carnival was one big roach motel. You check in, you eat a bunch of crap, and you stay until you die.  Very few people escaped. They had intentions of leaving, but one by one The Carnival took them all. Heart disease. Obesity. Drugs. Equipment failure. Dead by fifty, most of them. There was no fading gracefully into old age here. You just stopped. If it didn’t take them entirely it took some of their best parts. Just two months ago a young man had given up a limb to a roller coaster. He had climbed the steel mountain to fix a dangling bolt, when the car ran over his arm. They say he may have saved some people with his bravery. But the papers never heard of it. Bad for business. Now he’s quietly employed as the ticket taker at the back of the lot.

“What do you say?” Jason pulled her in tighter. “I bet I’m damned good at changing diapers.”

She took a deep breath. Though she cared about Jason, he had nothing more to offer her than his body, his guitar, and the eternal belief that someday he would roadie for Phish. “It wouldn’t work.” She whispered. “We’re too different. And besides…”

Jason released her from his arms and narrowed his eyes, ready to battle. “And besides what? Oh, never mind, I know. I’m not good enough for you.” He pushed through the stall door and into the empty bathroom. “Afraid you will end up like your mother?”

Spring lowered her eyes. Yes, she was afraid of that, and why not? It was a legitimate fear. But there was more to it. She followed him into the bathroom. “We just aren’t right for each other Jason.”

“Oh, I see.” Jason fell forward over the standalone sink, slamming his hands into the mirror. “We were right for each other a few weeks ago weren’t we? And even a few nights ago. But not for the long haul. No, Spring reserves that spot for someone more worthy. Am I right?”

 “Stop it. That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Don’t think I don’t know about that little fairy tale you believe in. You get one love in this lifetime and that’s it right? Don’t waste it on the Ferris wheel guy.”

 Spring felt her knees give and her stomach roil. She moved back into the stall and fought the nausea. It seemed too early for morning sickness. “Jason, please. There are many reasons we aren’t right for each other. You’re my best friend but…”

“No, I get it. What could I possibly offer you?” He turned the water on and shut it off again. “I hope for your sake that fairy tales come true. Or you’re in for a long, lonely life.” Spring heard him pull a paper towel from the chute, wipe his hands, and toss it into the waste bin. “When you decide what you want to do let me know. I will be there for the baby if decide to keep it. And I hope you do keep it.” Spring listened as Jason stomped across the bathroom and out the door.

**
From The Universe is a Very Big Place. On sale Nov 20-26 through Amazon.