Imagination by Christine DePetrillo

“Get a book,” I told one of my students before we were about to start state testing in my school. When students finish a testing session, they must silent read until the entire class is done. I’m not going to lie to you. This is pure torture. It’s very hard for eleven-year olds to be silent for sixty minutes or more in some cases. Social creatures by nature, anything that requires strict silence is cruel and unusual punishment to them.

It isn’t all that fun for me either. I turn into this glaring-eyed witch who shushes kids. I’m like the stereotypical librarian with her hair in a severe bun and a clench to her jaw. 

Anyway, I asked this student to get a book so he’d be ready when he finished his test. He replied with, “I always have a book in my head. It’s called my imagination.”

I instantly fell in love with this quote. I made a poster of it and slapped it up on our wall. What a great way to think of books and imagination. And he’s totally right. When used properly, imagination will always give you something to do. I’ve often been in a waiting room and made a fun game out of imagining what the people around me are thinking or what kind of lives they live. I can go to a crowded mall and improvise full conversations between strangers. I play the “what if” game any time of day and always come up with stuff that entertains me.

I’m not saying it would entertain anyone else, but the point is your imagination can amuse you. It’s what it’s there for. To take reality and make something else out of it. To extend beyond the laws of the real world. To travel without having to spend a dime.

So go ahead and pretend your dog is actually a fire-breathing dragon that’s come to take you on a quest—one you’ve been preparing for your entire life.

Don’t hesitate to mentally role-play how you’d subdue a knife-wielding criminal while you’re standing in line at your local bank.

What if your favorite celebrity was in line in front of you at the grocery story? What would you do? Talk to him/her? After you’ve checked out what they’re buying first, right?

The key is: Don’t stop using your imagination. Ever. No matter how old you are.

You’ll always have a “book” to enjoy if you let your imagination loose.

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

The Maple Leaf Series, Books One through Six, available now! Book One, More Than Pancakes, is always FREE in ebook! 

I See Stories Everywhere by Alison Henderson

This morning while I was driving down Carmel Valley Road on my way to the grocery store, I drove alongside a pair of black BMW X5s with New Jersey plates traveling in tandem. Now coastal California is a LONG drive from New Jersey. I immediately wondered what their story was. When I mentioned it to OG when I got home, he suggested they might be here doing some road testing on behalf of the manufacturer or maybe getting ready to film a commercial on the Bixby Bridge in Big Sur. He’s probably right, but how mundane. My hypothesis was much more colorful. Can we say gangsters on the run, anybody?

Because we live in a tourist destination, I see cars with license plates from all over the U.S. and Canada all the time. And I always wonder the same thing: what’s their story? Does anyone else do this? I can’t help it. When I was little growing up in Kansas, I wondered about the story behind every abandoned farmhouse along the highway between home and my grandparents’ house in Junction City. I imagined all kinds of romantic and/or tragic scenarios. I was disappointed to later learn the answer was simple economics: they were likely victims of the Great Depression.

Many writers use bits of strangers’ conversations as inspiration. I don’t seem to do that. I’m more visual. I see people like the young woman in the shopping center parking lot wearing a zipped up ski parka and rhinestone encrusted flip flops in fifty-six degree weather and wonder: what’s her story? Or I drive past a lavish mansion or dilapidated shack and speculate about the lives of the occupants, both past and present. My first book, a historical romance set in 1866 Missouri, was inspired by an antebellum house in Kansas City I’d driven past hundreds of times.

I blame my active imagination for my becoming a writer. I need an outlet for all these conjectures—otherwise my head might explode. Sometimes I wish I could call up orderly ideas on demand, but alas, that rarely happens. And when it does, it’s never as much fun.

I might never be any good at creating a strong, consistent author brand, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of ideas. I see stories everywhere!

Alison

www.alisonhenderson.com

Dreams

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

What do you dream about doing or becoming?

Me?

I have lots of dreams. I have writing dreams, teaching dreams, relationship dreams, vacation dreams, gardening dreams, reading dreams, crafting dreams…

Yeah. Like I said. Lots of dreams.

I also believe in the power of intention to fulfill those dreams. I hear so many people saying, “I wish this…” or “I wish that…” but is wishing enough?

Nope.

Wishing is merely thought.

Intention, however, has an engine, if you will. A motor filled with fuel, roaring to make something happen. Intention has purpose and power and passion. It is so much more than tossing a coin into a fountain. It’s tossing the coin, making a plan, and doing everything possible to make the dream a reality.

It’s as Thoreau said. Living the life you’ve imagined.

I’ve read many books about this topic, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer’s Wishes Fulfilled being one of them. If you have not read this, I highly recommend. I saw him on a PBS special one night a few years ago and was in awe of him and his message. I later bought Wishes Fulfilled and read it cover to cover almost immediately. His ideas on “manifesting” make a great deal of sense and his stories are very inspiring. Dr. Dyer basically says that we are all divine and have the power within ourselves to make anything we desire happen.

We can be whoever we want to be. No limitations. Everything is possible. Imagine away.

I like that. Don’t you?

Some might say that living life this way is delusional. That you can’t possibly make your dreams come true by imagining. Hey, I’m a writer. I make money off imagining, off making stuff up. I entertain people by inventing characters, places, and situations. I dream on a continual basis and you know what?

I have never felt more alive, more content, more certain in my direction, more comfortable on my path. I think a combination of imagination and action can give you the life you’ve always wanted.

What do you think? Has the power of intention every worked for you? If not, are you willing to give it a try?

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

Fall into Danger!

I live a pretty safe life. My neighborhood is located in Suburbia, USA where getting my mail at 4:30 instead of 4:00 is the biggest danger I face. Police sirens are rarely heard, criminals don’t run rampant in the streets, and my super huge German Shepherd has only tiny squirrels to scare away. I can walk said German Shepherd at midnight if I want to and not worry that I’ll be abducted or something equally as heinous.

I work in a safe town in a safe school, surrounded by safe colleagues and safe students.  

Bottom line? My life is basically populated with fuzzy pink bunnies. For the most part I like it that way. I do.

But…

I am a writer, you know. Sometimes I fantasize about danger. It’s kind of my job to do so as a fiction author. I imagine scenarios that are jam-packed with suspense, action, life-and-death decisions, and of course gorgeous men that are at the center of it all. That last part is my favorite. I’ll admit it.

I can be engaged in a mundane task like weeding my yard for example. A truck will drive by and even though I know exactly which neighbor is in that truck and that it drives by at precisely that time every single weekday, I’ll pretend the driver is a 6’4” ex-Marine dressed in all black. He’s wearing dark sunglasses, a scant beard circles his full lips, and he’s got a gun on the passenger seat. A gun he plans to use. He peels around the corner in front of my house, screeches to a stop, and jumps out of his truck. In three long strides, he is standing beside me, the tips of his black boots touching my pile of yanked dandelions.

“Let’s go,” he says.

I look up with a you-talking-to-me expression on my face… and streaks of sweat and dirt no doubt from my toiling in the yard.

“There isn’t much time. They’ll be here any minute. I’m your only chance.” He extends a big, sturdy-looking hand to me.

I gape at it, mesmerized by the size of his fingers and the calluses on his palm. Man hands. Oh, boy, do I love some man hands.

Sliding my soil-covered hand into his, I let him pull me to my feet. I’m wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap, but somehow I’m pulling off a cute, girl-next-door look and not the sloppy gardener look I’m usually sporting.

He whisks me into his truck, hops into the driver’s seat, and we’re off.

Away from danger.

Or perhaps into it.

Either way, I’ll be on an adventure—if only in my mind—until my weeding task is done. Then I’ll most likely be attacked by fictional ninjas while I’m folding the laundry.

Danger. It’s nowhere… and everywhere.

For more fictional danger, try my book Firefly Mountain which includes firefighters, a lunatic arsonist, and a paranormal ability capable of really heating things up.

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

Fantasy? Why not?

by Jena Galifany

Fan·ta·sy

[fan-tuh-see, -zee] noun, plural fan·ta·sies, verb, fan·ta·sied, fan·ta·sy·ing. noun

1. imagination, especially when extravagant and unrestrained.

2. the forming of mental images, especially wondrous or strange fancies; imaginative conceptualizing.

3. a mental image, especially when unreal or fantastic; vision: a nightmare fantasy.

4. Psychology . an imagined or conjured up sequence fulfilling a psychological need; daydream.

5. a hallucination. 

(Courtesy of Dictionary.com)

Okay, now we have the dictionary description of Fantasy. I particularly enjoy number one. 

Imagination. The beginning of all fantasy writing is imagination. It is the "what if" and the "how about" that live in our mind just behind the reality of life that we are forced to live with.  It is seeing things in a new and different way. It's believing that the world could be so much better, so much richer, so much more to ones own liking. 

Extravagant. Absolutely. Everything about fantasy should be extravagant. The characters should all be over the top in looks, elegance, riches, abilities and even evil. The men should be everything a man can be, according to the writers' whims. So hot you can get a sun tan by standing too near. So hot, to actually be in physical contact with could leave his brand on your soul. The women are no slouches either. Perfect build, perfect hair, make-up, eye color, skin tone and attitude. 

Unrestrained. Wow! That opens the doors to almost anything the heart desires. That man you always wanted to get your hands on? He's yours for the taking. He'll do anything and everything to please you. There are no consequences to your actions. There will never be a negative to your positive. No accidents, no back-lash. Absolute freedom of personal expression. 

Can you imagine this kind of freedom in your lifetime? It can happen when you write. It's all right there, at your fingertips. Find a keyboard and start with a small expression of your own fantasy. Build a character that you'd love to work with. One that you'd love to be, for that matter. After all, you are your characters. You are in their head, thinking their thoughts, living their lives, and leading them in the direction you want them to go. 

In fantasy, you can add magic, dragons, flowers and Fae to help your characters along. There are not longer limits to the world of fantasy. It can be crossed with other genres. How about this idea?

Boy meets Girl with a stick. Dragon grabs Girl. Boy hunts Dragon. Boy finds Dragon with Girl with a stick. Boy battles Dragon. Dragon flame broils Boy. Girl rolls eyes and points stick at Dragon. Girl flame broils Dragon and invites the village to a feast. Village roasts Girl at stake because Dragon tasted just like liver. The End.

Well, it needs a little work. I can fill in a few more details and add some clever dialogue but you get the idea. Fantasy can be a fun way to pass the time and is one of the most popular genres on the market. If you haven't tried it yet, I suggest you give it a shot. It can lift your spirits, even if you write it strictly for yourself. 

I wrote about a fantasy man, Velcon, in 1979. In 1989, I met him and we've been married since 1990. I've told you about Steve before so I won't bore you with the details again. I have a manuscript that I wrote in 1979 that needs a good going over. It is a fantasy. It's titled "The Ice Child" and some day I will publish it. Then the world will know more about Velcon Vespersley and his lady love, Jena' Galifany. Yes, that is where I got my author name.

Excerpt from "The Ice Child" 

After traveling what seemed like miles, the party came to the maze. Velcon kept himself between Cavoth and Devlin as well as having Caleth by his side. It was more simple to keep the mystery person from the child with the child in the lead with Alverian. Velcon decided that the next time they came to an outer door, he could be ready to free Dawnia and Jena from their current condition. All that was required was a little timing, some help from Caleth and Devlin, and a lot of luck, mixed with a few spells. Telepathy would have to be employed to tell Caleth and Devlin what to do as, chances were, he wouldn't get the opportunity to speak with them alone. Simple, right?

Velcon wondered why Cavoth hadn’t taken them all under mind possession. Why hadn’t he noticed the relic Devlin found? But, then, maybe he had. He tried once to take her. Velcon had to travel back to Gaelfar, if only for a split-second, for the components for the spells needed to free the women.

Velcon though about the maze as they entered it. This would be a good time to go. He quickened his steps and came up beside Alverian and Devlin. Velcon concentrated to gain Alverian‘s attention. "After I pass you, walk behind her, following her footsteps."
Alverian dropped back as Velcon walked ahead. Velcon's long strides quickly carried him forward until he put some distance between them.

Alverian paced Devlin's steps to stay between Cavoth and the youngest member. Suddenly, Velcon spun around, and threw blue-black handfuls of light over the entire party. His six companions stopped in their tracks, suspended in mid-motion. With a long look at Jena, Velcon filled his hands once again with the blue-black mist and poured it over himself. His destination: Gaelfar.

* * * *

The shop keeper never quite got used to his customers popping in and out as they pleased. He lost more stock that way. Magic users and thieves were always showing up just long enough to take what they wanted and disappear without paying for it. The sudden appearance of a person somewhat unnerved the small man.

Lithmar was glad to see that the day came to a close, when he could ward his store and retire upstairs with his family to enjoy the privacy and quiet. Only moments to go and his dream would became reality.

"And why not close a few moments early. The day has brought a good income already. What is a few more moments going to matter?" He jumped from his tall stool, and stepped around the end of the counter, starting toward the door. His steps were halted by a blue black cloud of shimmering air, followed by the appearance of one of his best customers suddenly standing before him.

"The mighty Velcon." He clapped his hands with delight. He took Velcon by the arm and firmly held him. "Welcome, my friend. Come and have mead with me. I was just closing up..."

Velcon returned Lithmar's welcome with a quick smile and, releasing the little man's arm, stepped around him. "I must have supplies. Dawnia and Jena, their lives depend upon my haste. Here." He moved from one shelf to the next, Lithmar following him from aisle to aisle. "Take these things to the counter. I know the others would most likely have them but I must be sure." Velcon handed several items to Lithmar, a small piece of iron, a vial of pure water, a string of chanting beads, and various other items.

"Spell components, I see. Bad, is it? Dawnia and Jena? Did Jena try for another black stone?"

Velcon wasn't listening as he grabbed this way and that for any item which might come in handy.

Lithmar frowned at Velcon‘s distraction. "Well, I am sure that when you have more time, you will explain it all to me. Don't worry about that," Lithmar told Velcon as he reached for his pouch of gold coins. "I'll remember what you owe when you have more time and I have a shortage of funds, my friend."

Velcon offered an appreciative smile. "I wish I had time for that mead. It would do me well. But, if I fail, the bill may just have to be forgotten on this plane of existence. If so, I will pay you in the next. Fare well, my friend." Velcon was gone as suddenly as he had appeared, his purchases with him.

Lithmar thought to himself, "Velcon, I can trust but I surely wish he would use the door once in a while."

_______________________________

Fantasy can take you anywhere, at any time, you want to go. I hope you've enjoyed this little piece of the first book I ever attempted to write. With a bit of luck, "The Ice Child" may make it to publication some day. That's just another one of my fantasies.

Cheers,

Jena Galifany

http://jenagalifany.bravehost.com