Trinka has asked me to write about happiness, that often elusive emotion that gets lost in the rush of daily life, family stresses, and work obligations. I’ve always be an optimistic person seeing the glass as half full so perhaps I’m not the best one to try to describe happiness, but I’ll give it a go anyway.
For me, happiness is writing. For the characters in my books, happiness is helping others. The old adage says to “write what you know.” Does that mean happiness for me is helping others? When I stop to think about it, I’d have to say yes.
For me, happiness is doing. For the characters in my books, happiness is doing. Like me, they are active participants in life and interacting with the people around them.
I believe happiness comes from within. It’s not something anyone else can give you. Wow, Trinka, you really got me thinking and philosophizing with your question. Thank you for that.
Here’s a little more about me and my series and an excerpt from my second novel which I’ve just published.
A long time ago, I lived in
. Every single day, I wished I could wave a magic wand to relieve the heart wrenching poverty. My experiences there led to the writing of this story. Some aspects of EMBATTLED reflect my desire to wave that wand and make the world a better place—if only wishes could come true. And of course, every novel needs its love story, so along with the sci-fi magic, I’ve added the requisite romance. Mali
Initially, I intended to write “a” novel. The story and characters took over and the ending of EMBATTLED demanded another. EMPOWERED is that “other.” I've always believed we can't be the only beings existing in the vastness of the universe, There must be others “out there somewhere” and I'd like to believe they're not all that different from us. Those beliefs are reflected in my writing. My novels stay, for the most part, within the realities of our world, but I've found that I love the magic the sci-fi element of other beings could bring to a story.
EXCERPT from EMPOWERED
“Honey, can you talk to me? Please. Talk to me.”
The little girl stared straight ahead, eyes wide, unblinking. In all her years of teaching, Mrs. Craig had never encountered anything like this with a student—this … trance …?
“Sweetheart, come back. Come back.” She rubbed the child’s back; saw the flicker of an eyelid. Thank God. “Sweetheart?”
“Where are they?” the girl asked. She looked around the room and then at her teacher. “Where are they?”
“What babies, sweetie?”
“The babies all in pieces.”
Jaz crawled out of bed. Three in the morning and she wouldn’t sleep now. She was seeing them again—the visions from her childhood. They’d been with her forever, tucked into a back corner of her mind, hovering over her protectively. Now why did she think of them as protective when they were mostly bloody and brutal and harsh and cruel? What happened in those visions was atrocious; she’d known that even as a child, so why hadn’t she been afraid then? Why wasn’t she afraid now? Why did she think of them as a safeguard, a shield? And a shield against what? Those babies in pieces … She shuddered, wrapped her arms around herself and paced.
God, she had to find him—the man she could share this with, the man who would help carry the burden, the man she’d been promised in those dreams.
Who was Jasmine in that other life? Why is she so sure she is invincible? Where will her beliefs lead?
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