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Tag: novel

Goodreads Giveaway: Enter for a chance to win!

Do you want a chance to win a paperback copy of The Last Time I Checked, I Was Still Here?  Enter to win at Goodreads starting June 15, 2017.

Disclaimer: There are no vampires or zombies. Also, this YA novel is devoid of throbbing romance and sex. It is a book about working through grief and becoming okay. 

Do I still have you?  If so, here is the pertinent information:

 

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Last Time I Checked, I Was Still Here by Lark Griffing

The Last Time I Checked, I Was Still Here

by Lark Griffing

Giveaway ends June 23, 2017.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

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Launching a dream

When I was a little girl, little as in 4th grade, I announced to myself I was going to become a famous author.  I began writing stories, vast tomes (four pages in pre-teen cursive, skip a line) about a wonderful palomino mare named, Golden Sunshine.  I shudder at the admission.
These stories started out wildly ambitious, but they died right after describing in glorious sensory detail my wonder horse.  I desperately wanted to ride off into the sunset, but I couldn’t figure out the words in between.

Fast forward to a much wiser woman whose horse days are behind her.  Yes, I acquired a majestic animal, an appaloosa gelding, mean as could be, but that is a story for another time.  Although the equine dreams faded, the goal of being an author never paled.   It rested, lying dormant and germinating until just recently.  After many false starts, a story took hold, and grew.  The in between was no longer an issue.  My fingers flew across the keyboard, no longer relegated to a number two pencil and wide rule paper, and I lost myself in the tale.  In the wee hours of the morning, I would have to stop to read what I just wrote, because I really had no idea.  The story became alive.  I was no longer in charge, but rather a muse deep inside me guided my creation.

They say write about what you know.  That was the problem with the child author.  Golden Sunshine was an aching desire, but I didn’t have the experience, nor the knowledge to fake it.  This time, I wrote about the things I love.  I wrote about teenagers and their hopes and hurts.  I wrote about the restorative nature of the mountains.   By channelling my inner transcendentalist, I gave birth to my first novel.

The birth of my two boys was difficult.  In contrast, the novel slid out easily.  Raising the boys has been a joy.  Editing the novel, a pain in the butt.  Yet, as I watch my boys grow into men, I understand that my novel will also mature.  It will take hard work and a strong will… and patience.  Ask my boys if I have patience.  They will laugh!