Books by the fire

A heartfelt thanks to pattyisbooked for the IG Book Tree Challenge.

I confess. Christmas grinch here. Not horrible and grouchy and mean and selfish, just sluggish in a to-everything-a-season-in-due-course way. Every year, I awake with a jolly spirit in my own time (usually around the 21st of December or so). Well, who could’ve guessed this lovely little challenge would speed things along?

A magical trio for sure: Books, firelight, snowflake.

My newly published Lainey Cash, Book One found its way front and center amid a mad dash of personal authorship must-haves in tree form:

  1. The Travel Book because the more you go, the more you know.
  2. The Canterbury Tales because characterization is key.
  3. Time Travel Short Stories because I need inspiration and direction for my newest venture, a historical, Halloween, time-traveling work-in-progress, Return.
  4. The John Deere Story because Lainey and Jed are farmers. I’m a farmer’s wife and it’s something I celebrate!
  5. Lainey Cash, Book One because I wrote it, it’s published, and that’s self-happiness, glee, and cheer in a rectangle.
  6. Bella Tuscany because I adore Italy, particularly Tuscan lands and memories of Florence.
  7. Such a Pretty Girl because such a pretty cover hooked me and every author harbors a to-be-read pile.
  8. Pocket Thesaurus because this lady still loves one.
  9. Writer’s Block because I penned an entire unforeseen trilogy in a sparked frenzy this summer from one question in there.

Live your joy. –Clare Cinnamon

Me and Superman

So, my first book is in print. Woohoo! I’m told a blog is necessary. I’m also told that a good opener is to answer the question, When did you know you were a writer?

I wrote before I could write.

My first book (psst, this is not the same book now available for your reading pleasure). I wrote it when I was four years old. I was in a children’s hospital recovering from, mercifully, a major but one-time thing.

The medical talk around me was in adult code. I comprehended that my speech might be affected by the surgery. Maybe this spurred communicative energy…

My parents left my room just once to get dinner. They left me in the care of a lifelong friend. Knowing she was a kindergarten teacher, sensing she was the creative type, I said, “Can you find me a pen, paper, and somehow make a book cover? I have a story to tell. Hurry!” -Something along those lines, garbled by meds and this so-called speech thing.

Ms. Jane found green construction paper, white typing paper, a blue inkpen, and yellow yarn. She made a book. I told a story.

Superman landed on the ledge of a little girl’s hospital room window in darkness. He offered her the adventure of a lifetime. It might be scary and there might be bad people, but if she was brave enough to try it, she would be healed forever.

She took him up on the offer. She rode on his cape around the world, high above humanity, and saw all kinds of things including birds, a bad man, and city lights. When he returned her to the ledge, she was well. She could talk, so she did. About all her adventures. From then on.

That was thousands and thousands, no, millions of words ago. Poetry, essays, songs, short stories, travel articles, greeting cards, city promotions. That was nine novels and six laptops ago. That was forty years ago.

“Lainey Cash, Book One” is novel one, started and finished in the year 2000 (when I decided to pursue publishing, I went back, read, and realized I wrote it before smartphones). Decision #1: To leave it as a frozen piece of history or bring it back to the future?

It’s published; I’m elated; let’s go. P.S. Obviously, I decided. You’ll have to read to find out.

Follow your dreams, peeps, because everything else is just obligation. And feel free to follow along here, too. I welcome your comments and questions. I’ll write about, hmm, most anything. Coffee fiend, wine sampler, yoga…eh, doer, music addict, world traveler with an exceptionally cool, award-winning farmer husband, two grrreat grown kids, seven cats, and a new book journey!

If you’re still reading, thanks. If not, I sincerely hope it’s because you got busy chasing your passion. –Clare Cinnamon

First copy in our cotton field on last day of harvest