Just a quick note before I start… Thanks to everyone posting on Facebook as part of the Daily Advent Countdown! It’s already been fun, and something I think I’ll do every year. I really like thinking up ways to play & celebrate online! On to my Sunday, pre-planning tarot card pull…
I’ve had this guy before. It’s Daedalus. You might know him as the father of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun and melted his wax-and-feathers wings. Daedalus was a very inventive and prosperous man, who made things for kings. Here, he’s being a bit of a butt. Note the grapes framing the picture. Grapes always mean “plenty.” His wealth is cemented by the four golden pentacles he holds tightly in his arms. He’s not letting anyone steal those from him. But look at his eyes. He’s not happy, despite the fact he has so much. He’s watching his nephew Talos at the workbench, and that’s envy on his face. You see, he can already tell that Talos will be a better artisan than he is. He’s jealous!
So, what does this mean for me? It’s weird to pull this card now. I’m not paying any attention to any other person who’s doing better than me. I’m not jealous of anyone. Is the card telling me not to hoard my talents? Maybe…it’s telling me to “spend” my gifts. I’ll have to think about this one.
What does The Mythic Tarot book tell me? It says there may be a “stagnation of creative energy” if I “hold too tightly to things which are bound up with one’s sense of self-value.”
I’m up early to get ready for the Christmas craft sale today! I’ll post this blog and go jump in the shower. Even if it rains, and that puts a damper on folks turning out for the sale, it will be fun! I always shop the other vendors, and the venue feeds us really, really well. I can’t wait for the homemade chili!
In the meantime, solve the puzzle! Then tell me whether you have any homemade holiday decorations you treasure for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
Psst! And don’t forget to head over to my Friends page on Facebook to enter the Advent contest!
The Devlins are big on Christmas. Today, the Elves on the Shelf made their appearance in our house, bringing coloring books and individual advent calendar gift boxes for the girls. So, every morning, they’ll be opening the doors of their little boxes to claim their prizes. On the night of the 5th, they’ll leave out their shoes for Santa to let them know whether they’ve been naughty or nice by leaving gifts or pieces of coal in their shoes for them the next morning. We’ll have weekend Christmas movie nights. Our decorations are all over the house. I think we have six trees, large and small, all over the place. Yeah, we go all out. Every day’s a celebration.
So, I thought it might be fun to spread the joy to you, too.
Every day, counting down to the 24th, I’ll give away a small prize on my Friends page on Facebook. If you aren’t already a friend, you can head over here to join: Delilah’s Friend Page. Be sure to comment on my daily advent posts there because I’ll be picking one commenter to receive a small simple prize. It could be one of my hand painted bookmarks, postcards, some other small artists’ card, a handmade snowman ornament, or a free book.
Be looking for those notices and be sure to comment! Good luck, and ‘Tis the Season, y’all! Let me know here if you like this idea for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
I compiled all three Triplehorn Brand books into a single volume and published the box set on November 20th! Thanks to everyone who picked up a copy!
I completed writing my standalone small-town/sci-fi/romantic comedy, Little Green Dreams (follow the link to pre-order!)! Something I’ve been thinking about writing for years. And I finally have a cover!
I began work on Malcolm (Book #10 of Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, MT).
I completed 4 editing projects for other authors in November.
I completed NaNoWriMo 2023!
Health-related:
I have not been exercising enough. I’ve gained weight—not saying how much! (Thanksgiving is a blessing and curse!)
Through medicines and some diet tweaking, I’ve managed to keep my blood pressure down to 135-155.
Happiness-related:
I worked on making items to sell alongside my daughter at the local Christmas craft fair!
Despite the heavy writing workload, I have managed to do some painting. Here are some examples…
December
For work-related, I plan:
To make one more pass through Little Green Dreams to find any errors I may have missed, then release it on December 12th!
To write, and hopefully publish, my next Stepbrothers Stepping Out short story—With His Fire Crew.
To complete writing Malcolm, my next Montana Bounty Hunters book!
To complete 4 editing projects in December!
For health related, I plan:
To not make promises about counting points for my Weight Watchers diet, because it’s that time of year and I know I’d be setting myself up for failure. However, I will try to make healthier choices—emphasizing no late-night snacking!
To continue to reduce salt, processed food, and incorporate foods good for blood pressure (spinach, broccoli, bananas).
To pay attention to my daily steps, trips up and down the stairs, and to incorporate some chair exercises.
To do more housework because my art room isn’t finished! Cleaning is exercise, too.
For happiness-related, I plan:
To participate in a local arts and crafts event December 2nd!
To make some last pieces of jewelry and cards for Christmas gifts!
Contest
Comment on anything you’ve read in this post. Tell me what you’re doing to make yourself happier and healthier, or tell me what you plan to read in December… Like I said, comment on anything for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
Robert Browning wrote, “Ah, but a man’s reach must exceed his grasp or what’s a heaven for?” Frances Watkins Harper’s list of accomplishments, author, poet, teacher, suffragist, reformer, and abolitionist, shows she believed that about women, too.
Born free in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1825, Frances’ parents died when she was three. She was raised by her aunt and minister abolitionist uncle, Henrietta and William J. Watkins who had been teaching free children to read and write since 1820. No wonder activism came naturally to Frances. By the age of twenty-one, she published Forest Leaves, her first book of poetry. She produced no less than 80 poems and four novels, all of which touched on the issues of oppression she would fight against for the rest of her life.
At age twenty-six, she taught domestic science at Union Seminary in Ohio for a year then moved to Pennsylvania where she taught as well. A Maryland law threatened enslavement to any free African American who returned to the state from the North, so she remained in Pennsylvania with Mary Still and her husband William, the father of the Underground Railroad. While with them, Frances began writing poetry for anti-slavery newspapers. In 1858, she wrote one of her most celebrated poems, “Bury Me In A Free Land.” That same year, she refused to give up her seat and move to the colored section of a Philadelphia trolley.
She spoke for eight years for anti-slavery societies in the US and Canada on the issues she wrote about: racism, women’s rights, and classism. In 1859, she wrote “The Two Offers,” the first short story ever published by an African American woman and the essay “Our Greatest Want” which compared the slavery of African Americans with that of the Hebrews of the Old Testament.
In 1860, she married Fenton Harper and had one daughter, Mary, but unfortunately, became widowed four years later.
At the 1866 National Woman’s Right’s Convention, she spoke urging support for suffrage for African American women who, being Black and female, needed the vote, too. Attendees organized the American Equal Rights Organization, but a split between the members occurred over support of the 15th Amendment, which gave African American men the vote before White women. Siding with those championing the amendment, Frances helped form the American Woman Suffrage Association instead.
She spent the rest of her days working for social reform to better the lives of African Americans. She served as the vice-president of the National Association of Colored Women’s Clubs, director of the American Association of Colored Youth, and superintendent of the African American designated sections of the Philadelphia and Pennsylvania Women’s Christian Temperance Unions.
The home Frances lived in from 1870 until her death in 1911 is a historic site within the National Park Service.
For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share in the comments your impression of Frances, her accomplishments and/or what you believe women should reach for.
One Breath Away
by Michal Scott
Sentenced to hang for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. She’s never been courted, cuddled or spooned, and now no man could want her, not when sexual satisfaction comes only with the thought of asphyxiation. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more. Wealthy, freeborn-Black, Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing the mysteriously exotic woman was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex. Hope ignites along with lust until the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…
Excerpt from One Breath Away…
Arousal—fondly remembered and sorely missed—sizzled between Mary Hamilton’s well-rounded thighs. Moisture coated her nether lips and threatened to stoke the sizzle into a blaze. The sensation surprised her, as did the owner of the gaze that lit the flame.
Eban Thurman stood against an opposite wall of the town’s community hall. Although the room was wide as two barns and filled with revelers, neither the distance nor the presence of the crowd lessened the power of his gaze. He studied her with a curiosity that didn’t grope with disdain, but caressed with approval.
With respect.
This kind of appreciation was never given to women as dark and as large as she. Gratitude heated her face.
Gratitude and embarrassment. Her lavender toilet water couldn’t hide the fragrance of arousal. She shuddered with shame then glanced around. Had anyone else detected the odor? All the merrymakers seemed too caught up in the rhythmic fast fiddling and foot-stomping of Safe Haven’s seventh annual Juneteenth Revel to notice her discomfort.
In 1872 Texas who took note of a black woman who ain’t been asked to wed?
Yet Eban’s perusal said not only did he take note, but he liked what he saw.
In case you didn’t already know, I have new releases coming soon! Little Green Dreams arrives soon on December 12th (I moved the date up a week!); Malcolm on January 16th; and What Happens in Bozeman on February 20th! Malcolm is the next Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, MT, story, and What Happens in Bozeman is the next We Are Dead Horse, MT book. Little Green Dreams is a standalone title, for now. Depending on how readers enjoy it, there may be more stories that follow. Believe me, I have some ideas…
I hope you’re looking forward to them all and that you’ll take a moment to pre-order each one so you don’t miss them when they release! I promise there’s humor, sexiness, and small-town adventures in each.
The Gurdon Light
Central to my next release, Little Green Dreams, is a local phenomenon that occurs some 20-odd miles down the road from me called The Gurdon Light. The TV show Unsolved Mysteries even did an episode featuring the legend, which I mention in my story because it was a big deal back in the day that lent some legitimacy to the legend since they couldn’t find a scientific cause for the Light. And just so you know, I’ve seen it, too.
The Gurdon Light is Arkansas’s most famous legend. There’s a certain length of old, abandoned railroad track near Gurdon, Arkansas, where a mysterious light can be seen when you walk down the tracks. It’s a bright orb that appears to swing side to side. And it’s not shy. It appears often. Local universities have taken students out there to try to find the source of the Light, but they’ve pretty much ruled out things like swamp gas because the light doesn’t dissipate in the wind.
The legend the locals tie the Light to is a sad story. This is a snippet from the book where I explain the supposed origin of the Light:
“William McClain was a foreman working for the Missouri-Pacific railroad. Late one evening, he was finishing up when he was approached by one of his workers, Louis McBride. It was during the Depression…1931, as I recall. Times were hard, and Mr. McBride, although he had a job, wanted more hours because he needed money. The railroad had strict rules about how many hours a man could work, so Mr. McClain said he couldn’t give him any more. They got into an argument, and McBride raised his shovel and struck McClain in the head. Then he beat him to death with a spike maul—it’s a tool a railroad man uses, like a sledgehammer. It was an awful thing.”
Ever since Mr. McClain’s murder, the light appears on the tracks. Locals say it’s the railroad lantern he carried.
So, that’s the legend I piggybacked my book on. Although, I have a very different explanation for the phenomenon because, hey, I’m a storyteller and that’s what I do—I make stuff up. 🙂
Watch this very short episode from a local newscast, interviewing someone who has seen the Light.
Contest
For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, tell me about a legend from your “neck of the woods!”
I’ve always loved Carolyn Bessette Kennedy’s bold minimalism style since I was a teenager, and I love how it’s become popular on TikTok and YouTube. In fact, there’s even a new book out about her style. Back in the day, Carolyn Bessette Kennedy was talked about in every major fashion magazine. Notice I don’t say, “interviewed,” or even, “on the cover.” That’s because she didn’t do interviews, cover shoots, or editorials. She worked in fashion and was also a fashion muse and inspiration, and what’s great about her style is how timeless yet modern it is, even though the photos are from the nineties.
Carolyn wasn’t plastered all over the media due to her seeking attention, but rather the fact people couldn’t help but to pay attention to her. It was refreshing then and even more so now as you see people hiring companies that generate articles about up-and-coming celebrities just to get them more attention.
I liked Carolyn’s modern, streamlined style, but I also admired how she conducted herself in public even more. There was a mystery to her that has become even more intriguing in the last few years as there’s very little mystery left to celebrities in the modern world. So, it makes sense that she inspired me years ago when I wrote a short story for my creative writing class in college. I wrote a story called “True Grit Need Not Apply,” about a teen girl dating the son of a popular senator and how they were opposites. I imagined a girl named Emme Trybus who had a bit more of a boho streak than Carolyn (although in the scene below I do reference the exact lip color she used to wear because I tracked it down back in the day—haha), but is thrust into a high-profile lifestyle due to who she was dating.
I wondered how Carolyn dealt with that high-profile life that came with photographers, gossip, and constant judgment. I found it fascinating how she was able to navigate through such a chaotic life. However, in my story, I made the couple teens and gave them different issues (trying to figure out what they want to do after high school, finding their path, and they both have grandparents dealing with health issues.)
My professor gave me great feedback and said it had vibes of Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger, which I hadn’t read at the time but was thrilled to hear. After the semester ended, one of my critique group members, David, told me it was his favorite story of mine, and I should develop it into a novel. I began working on it, but it sat for quite some time due to the fact that I ended up working as a freelance journalist while going to grad school, then getting married, moving overseas, etc. When I came back to it years later, I felt like no time had passes as I was instantly drawn back into Emme and Brendon’s world where they’re falling in love despite being from different backgrounds. I titled it, Dating the It Guy. and was fortunate to get a publishing contract for it.
Last year, I rereleased Dating the It Guy with updates and a new epilogue to show you what happened to the two high schoolers after they graduate from college. I guess I wanted to give them the happily ever after I only wish Carolyn and John could have had.
Excerpt from Dating the It Guy
The next day, I woke with this weird feeling my laptop was going to act up. In fact, when I checked my e-mail in the morning, I was kind of surprised it switched on at all. I figured I was just being paranoid about not getting my rough draft done, or maybe it was because the planet Mercury was in retrograde, but I tried to ignore my feelings. We had the day off from class, so I didn’t start working on my paper until later in the evening. I had just started typing when my screen froze. Feeling panicked, I hit Control-Alt-Delete and restarted the laptop, but the screen went blue and started flickering. What was it doing, and why was there a little gray box on my computer telling me I had sixty seconds until it shut down? Fifty-nine…fifty-eight…fifty-seven… This was just like the episode of As My Children Wept where Samson had to stop the bomb hidden in Sierra and Aristotle’s wedding cake. Did it mean the laptop was going to blow? On the show, the cake blew up, and everybody thought Aristotle was dead…well, until he showed up at Sierra’s next wedding, and was Sierra’s new husband mad…probably just as mad as Mrs. Rae would be when I didn’t turn in my assignment.
“Mo-om! My laptop’s possessed. Fix it!”
“Why don’t you just ask me to get out my fairy princess wand and throw pixie dust on it,” she shot back. “I’d have better luck with that.”
Sarcasm was not cute when you were having a crisis. I tried calling Zach, but his mom said he was working late. I was desperate, so I asked his mom if she knew anything about computers.
“There’s a guy at Mary’s Little RAMs who works on mine. I could give you his number, but they closed at five tonight.”
I hung up defeated. I didn’t know anybody who knew a thing about computers. Oh crap. I did know somebody who knew about computers. Brendon. He had mentioned he took a computer class last semester, but could I call him? Usually, I’d have no problem calling a guy for something, but this wasn’t a normal guy. He was what Margaux would call a “Hottie McHotHot.” Okay, what was wrong with me? He was just a regular person like everybody else. He put his pants on one leg at a time and went to the toilet like everybody else…but I bet his bathroom was super clean and everything in it matched. I pictured the whole room done in some manly, rich-person color like “hunter green” or “maroon.” And there would be lots of dark mahogany—
“Emme? Do you want to use my laptop to work on your paper?” Mom yelled up the stairs.
“It won’t help,” I replied. “I saved it on the hard drive because I’m a loser.”
Freaking Mercury retrograde. I should have known better than to expect a computer to work right. I should have backed up my work or e-mailed it to myself, but no, I was too worried about ordering new lip gloss from Lickity Lips. Now I had no paper, no gloss, and probably after I called Brendon begging him for help, no pride. I called and left a message on Brendon’s phone saying I had a computer questions. He was probably out with some amazing prelaw, premed student who donated blood to anemic puppies and did puppet shows for the elderly while knitting booties for—
My phone buzzed, and Brendon’s name popped up on the screen.
Brendon: Hey, what’s up?
I wrote back and explained about my computer, and he started giving me suggestions, which would have been helpful if I had known what he was talking about. It was like he was typing in Aramaic. He offered to come over, and I went to fix my hair the second I put down the phone. Normally I didn’t do much with my hair. It was long and always seemed messy no matter what I did with it. Kylie always said it was tousled like something out of a magazine, and yeah, sometimes I agreed with her and even loved my hair…and other times I feel like strangers on the street were going to walk up and hand me a hairbrush. My hair had been in a ponytail all night, so I couldn’t wear it down because it had a ponytail holder crease. I wound it into a loose bun and put on my ruby lip stain. I was digging through my hamper for my cutest top when the doorbell rang. I threw it on and ran down the stairs.
“Hey, thanks for coming over,” I said as I answered the door. I told him my laptop was upstairs, and I felt weird, like I was trying to lure him into my bedroom or something. He followed me, and I realized I should have made sure my dirty underpants weren’t half hanging out of my hamper when I shut it. Of course, it wasn’t a cute pair, but the big momma pants. Why didn’t I just wear Little Bo Peep pantaloons?
“See, it does this weird countdown thing when I turn it on,” I said. He sat at my desk and started messing with my laptop while I sat on the bed. I wondered if he washed his hands or used some hand sanitizer because I had this strict “clean hands” policy about my keyboard. I mean, I heard on the news those keyboards were playgrounds for bacteria.
“It’s probably because Mercury is in retrograde,” I said. He stared at me as if I had said, “I was sacrificing a goat in here before you came in, please excuse the stains on my ceremonial robe.” I tried to explain. “It’s the planet that rules communication—never mind. Do you think you can fix it?”
“Not sure yet,” he said. “I think I can retrieve your paper though. Do you have someplace else to finish it if I can’t get this computer to work?”
I started to answer when he said he had brought his laptop over for me to use while he worked on my computer. So I could either go downstairs and type on my mother’s boring laptop and leave Mr. Hotness alone in my bedroom, or I could stay here and work on it while we were in my room. Together. Alone. In my room. I loved the planet Mercury.
Who knew all those embarrassing, cringe-y moments in middle school and high school could turn into a career? And who would have thought that daydreaming in math class would pay off down the road?
Krysten Lindsay Hager writes for teens and tweens about friendship, self-esteem, fitting in, frenemies, crushes, fame, first loves, and values. She is the author of Cecily Taylor Series, the Star Series, and the Landry’s True Colors Series.
