MENTAL STATUS: "Pumped". Why? you might ask. Because I made some serious writing progress. That's why. Yay!
Before I actually did any writing yesterday, I fooled around with my haircut some more and made some subtle changes to my makeup colors and then... voila! I think the brown hair is growing on me.
A little bit.
Anyhew, I planted myself in front of my computer and completely finished my chapter 5. I had to delete a bunch of stuff, but once I did that, I was able to rewrite new paragraphs with no problem. All in all, I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. I always hate deleting pieces of scenes, but I guess it really was for the greater good.
Because I was such a diligent little writer yesterday, I didn't spend too much time surfing the Net. So instead, I let my friends do it for me. LOL! And they told me that Harlequin is giving away 16 FREE e-books in honor of their 60th anniversary. Check it out HERE. I downloaded a bunch onto my e-reader. :)
My mom is visiting today, so I doubt I'll get much of anything done. But that's okay. I could use the break.
IN THE NEWS: Firefighter suspended from band over nod to Obama. Read moreHERE.
RECENT IPOD DOWNLOAD: "Troublemaker" by Wheezer
<---Yeah. That's me with my BROWN hair. I guess I should have smiled more in the picture, but I'm still not sure how I feel about my new look, so my expression is lukewarm at best.
Sorry.
Anyhew...I got my e-reader back! Yay!!! I started happily reading on it last night. SONY provided super service getting it back to me so fast. :) Thank you, unknown worker in a large corporate building in Texas. You did good work.
On the writing front, I'm working on my chapter five again today--maybe even tomorrow, too. I know I should have written chapter six by now, but the analness (is that a word?) in me won't let me go further until I've edited the death out of the chapter preceding it. I know I've got problems.
No goals this week. Well, maybe to finish chapter five and MOVE ON. But that's all. I promise.
How's your writing going? Are you making more progress than me?
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
The Someday List Blog Tour Giveaway Tell Us One Item on Your Someday List. Leave your answer in the comment section. Participants will be entered into a drawing forThe Someday List Blog Giveaway. View the prize package below:
* $50 American Express Gift Card
*Autographed Copies of all of Stacy’s books: Speak to My Heart, Nothing But the Right Thing, and Watercolored Pearls, and the anthologies The Midnight Clear and This Far By Faith.
*20% Discount Coupon from Tywebbin Creations. (May apply to one service)
Join Us for an Hour Long Chat with Stacy on January 30, 2009. We will announce the GRAND PRIZE WINNER of the THE SOMEDAY LIST BLOG TOUR GIVEAWAY during the call.
Stacy Hawkins Adams is a nationally-published, award-winning author and speaker. Her contemporary women’s fiction novels are filled with social themes and spiritual quests that take readers on journeys into their own souls.
She holds a degree in journalism and served as a newspaper reporter for more than a decade before turning her full attention to penning books, speaking professionally and writing freelance articles.
She is currently writing her sixth novel and her first nonfiction book, an inspirational title that will encourage women in their faith.
Stacy lives in a suburb of Richmond, Virginia with her husband and two young children.
List Price: $12.99 Paperback: 256 pages Publisher: Revell (January 1, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 0800732669 ISBN-13: 978-0800732660
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prologue
Rachelle fumbled with the bouquet of yellow roses and locked eyes with him. Her flowers sagged from thirst.
The simple gold band she clutched stuck to her sweaty palm.
Instead of a flowing white gown, she wore the black pencil skirt and short-sleeved white silk blouse that, until today, had served as her choral ensemble uniform.
Her groom was dressed in his standard singing attire too—white collared shirt, black tie, and black slacks. He had removed the diamond earring from his left earlobe, his goatee was freshly cut, and as far as she was concerned, he had never looked finer.
Between the two of them, the worldly goods they possessed amounted to less than what Rev. Prescott likely paid to have his preaching robe cleaned.
And yet, she knew this was right. The right time, the right place, and the right man, even if she had to marry him in secret.
One day they would look back on this elopement with tenderness and pride, telling their children about their union in an empty church sanctuary, not far from the university they would graduate from in six months.
He smiled at her and arched an eyebrow, questioning the delay in her response.
The minister repeated himself.
“Rachelle Marie Mitchell, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She smiled. Her beloved didn’t have to worry about her having second thoughts—not when she felt this way.
“I do, Reverend Prescott,” she said. “I do.”
1
Rachelle Mitchell Covington felt both giddy and guilty.
In twenty-four hours she would be completely alone and she couldn’t wait.
No worries about temporary empty-nest syndrome—she was happy to let her parents deal with two preadolescent know-it-alls for half of the summer. And no need to feign an interest in her husband’s wants, work, or even his world.
For the first time in their eleven-year marriage, she and Gabe would be away from each other for more than a week.
When he informed her that he had agreed to speak at a medical conference the week before he left for a medical mission trip, she knew he expected her to complain. Rachelle had frowned for his benefit, but also bit her lip to keep from cheering.
Though it was already steamy outside this morning, the temperature inside Houston’s Intercontinental Airport left her longing for her cashmere coat. Rachelle shivered and smiled when Tate and Taryn, looking like they had stepped off the pages of a Children’s Wear Digest catalog, turned to wave one last time before passing through the security gate and approaching a waiting airline employee.
The young woman in the crisp navy and white uniform would escort them to their direct flight to Philadelphia.
The fifth and third graders had been trying to whine their way out of their annual summer visit with Rachelle’s parents for two days, because they would miss their friends, feared boredom, and believed Gram would have way too many rules. Rachelle had reminded them again this morning that, despite those perceived hardships, they had no problem enjoying the regular outings, video games, and other treats they enjoyed during their stay.
When Tate and Taryn disappeared around a bend that led to Terminal A, Gabe turned toward Rachelle and motioned with his head that he was ready to go. He and Rachelle walked briskly toward the parking deck without touching or talking.
Gabe walked a stride or two ahead of her, as if he were on a mission. He tempered his gait as they neared his SUV, and he unlocked the doors with his key chain device.
“I’m not going into the office this morning since I’ll be flying out early tomorrow,” he said without looking toward Rachelle.
“Let’s grab breakfast at Olivette.”
Rachelle scrambled for an excuse, but none presented itself.
She hadn’t mentioned that she soon would be leaving too, for a weekend trip to the West Coast. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know. He wasn’t going to be home anyway.
“That’s fine,” she finally said about breakfast, although he had already steered his Mercedes in the direction of the hotel restaurant.
They rode in silence during the half-hour drive and didn’t speak until the waitress asked for their order.
Rachelle sighed and responded by rote. “He’ll have smoked salmon and a bagel with a side of fresh fruit.”
Gabe nodded and looked up at the waitress. “She got it right.”
“Salmon and bagel with a side of fruit,” the waitress repeated, lodging the order in her memory.
Rachelle leveled her eyes at Gabe. “Order for me.”
He peered at her over the rim of his glasses. “How would I know what to order for you?”
Rachelle didn’t feel like playing along with his public politeness today. She sat back and folded her arms.
“Try.”
The waitress shifted from one foot to the other and turned her gaze to a nearby bank of potted plants.
Gabe’s nostrils flared and he clenched his teeth. “Just order something already.”
“If you can’t do it, I guess I’m not hungry,” Rachelle said.
Gabe opened the leather-encased menu and glared at the offerings.
Seconds later, he pushed it into the waitress’s face. Startled, she grabbed it before it landed on the Oriental rug beneath the table.
“Bring her an omelet with ham, mushrooms, and cheddar cheese.”
The waitress nodded and left quickly, her reddish-brown ponytail swaying with each step. Rachelle knew the young lady had to be wondering how a couple could fight over a breakfast order.
If she had asked, Rachelle would have assured her this skirmish was overdue.
Since she had received Jillian’s unsettling invitation three weeks ago, Rachelle’s tolerance for just about everything had plummeted.
With the kids away for the next month, she didn’t have to contain herself. Gabe should be thankful he was leaving for a business trip tomorrow.
He laid his linen napkin across his lap and stared at her.
Rachelle challenged him with her eyes. She wanted him to care enough to question her, to probe why she was being defiant.
But just as she knew what to order for his meal, she knew he wouldn’t take the bait. He was his usual, detached self—enveloped in skin that was a smooth, savory brown and as self-absorbed as a two-year-old whose favorite words were “no” and “mine.”
In that moment, something welled up inside of her. She looked past Gabe’s glasses, past the perfect white teeth, past the pool of nothingness in his eyes. She wanted to see into his soul. She wanted to know that he had an “I would die for you” kind of love inside of him. For her.
Even if they had been together for what seemed like forever. Even if she didn’t know how she really felt about him. If one of them could summon the emotion, maybe that would make all the difference.
He was leaving tomorrow for New York and would return home for one day before traveling to Uganda. In twenty-four hours, she’d have the entire house to herself. But right now, she realized, she needed to leave to save herself.
Right now, what mattered more than being a good wife was being good to herself. Hearing from Jillian for the first time in a long time was nudging her to stop procrastinating.
Rachelle took a sip of her coffee and rose from her seat. “Stay and enjoy your breakfast. Call a taxi when you’re done. I may or may not be at home by then.”
“What—”
Before he could protest, Rachelle raised her hand to stop him.
Her voice trembled when she addressed him in a whisper.
“Gabe, I’m tired of playing like the happy couple. Our life is strangling me. I want a real marriage and this isn’t it . . . And by the way, I’ve always hated cheddar cheese.”
She grabbed her purse from the back of her chair and strode toward the door, heart pounding as if it would burst through her sleeveless tangerine top.
Had she really done that? Did she just walk away from her well-to-do, handsome husband and leave him stranded in a restaurant?
What would her parents say? Their friends? For the first time that she could recall, those questions wouldn’t determine her actions.
Rachelle slowed her pace when she reached the restaurant’s entrance and nodded farewell to the hostess. She strode through the lobby of the Houstonian Hotel and thanked the bellhop who held open the door for her. While the valet retrieved Gabe’s Mercedes truck, she stood at his booth, tapping her foot and looking over her shoulder.
In the minutes since she had left the table, Gabe hadn’t pursued her. Despite the fact that she had fueled this drama, she was hurt.
She breathed in the humid summer air and exhaled slowly, trying to keep her composure.
For once, she wished she were sweaty enough to mask the moisture on her face. The last thing she wanted to admit was that once again, she had allowed him to make her cry.
Well, the reason I was "out of the office" yesterday was because I had an all day marathon hair appointment. I think I was there like 4 hours. Anyhew, I'm not quite looking like myself anymore. In fact, I'm not blonde any longer...
I now have brown hair. (with a few gold streaks) **cough cough**
Don't ask me why I decided to change how I looked. Felt like it? Tired of seeing dark roots? Boredom?
Whatever. The hubby and kiddo seem somewhat unaffected. But I cannot get used to how I look at all. My hair looks so dark, I'm seeing streaks of black in it. Maybe it's my eyes. I'm still going through the adjustment period.
(The jury is obviously still out.)
Today I will try not to stare at myself in the mirror and just work on editing one of my chapters. We'll see how that goes.
When was the last time you did something drastic to your hair?
MENTAL STATUS: "Tired". Have not been sleeping well lately. Maybe too much caffeine?
As I was spending way too much time on the Internet and not enough time writing yesterday, I found some interesting things:
On The Writer Interrupted Blog, I saw a really neat free online program that helps you keep track of your submissions and writings and whatnot. It's called The Writer's Database. I haven't joined yet, but I'm VERY close. Check it out.
Literary agent Chip MacGregor has answered some good questions on the state of book publishing and the economy, which was insightful. (And I found out he also uses the SONY e-reader, like me)
Author Camy Tang was over at The Seekers Blog, talking about Setting Goals for 2009 and even sharing her own. Check it out.
And lastly, Author Debora Dennis is in a generous mood. Go to her blog and wish her a Happy Birthday and you could win a free copy of one of her e-books.
IN THE NEWS: "Indiana man's shaggy eyebrows trimmed for charity" Read moreHERE.
The other night I had company for dinner--inlcuding my pastor and his wife. (So you know I had to make something good!) Well, I made PENNE PASTA WITH SAUSAGE CREAM SAUCE. I served it with salad and garlic bread. It was YUMMO.
This recipe is so simple--and people will think you're a regular Barefoot Contessa.
PENNE WITH SAUSAGE CREAM SAUCE
1 pound sweet Italian sausage, casings removed 1 tablespoon butter 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 medium onion, thinly sliced 4 garlic cloves,minced 2/3 cup dry white wine 1 (14 1/2-ounce) can diced peeled tomatoes, undrained 1 cup heavy cream 4 tablespoons chopped Italian parsley (flat leaf parsley) 1 teaspoon salt or to taste freshly ground pepper to taste 1 pound penne pasta, cooked according to package 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus additional for garnish
RECENT IPod DOWNLOAD: "Crazy in Love" by Beyonce Knowles
CHRISTMAS TREE STATUS: Finally down! Woo-hoo!
As the title suggests, I'm a roll! I was sooooo productive yesterday. I actually sat on my little behind and managed to get a ton of critiques done (and even a little editing on my chapters too). It feels good.
Anyhew, my goal this week is to finish my chapter 6. See? Another simple, clear cut, no fuss goal.
IN THE NEWS: "A Fort Pierce woman ended up in jail because of a little girl with a big mouth." Read moreHERE.
It finally snowed yesterday! We didn't get much, but enough to make... "Icicle" the Snowman down there.
Isn't he cute? I think the kiddo used all the snow we had in the yard.
Then the hubby decorated him with pennies for eyes, a carrot for the nose, and a few Bendaroos for the mouth. Ingenious.
********************* Well, today the kiddo is back in school and that means I can put the house back in order, do some laundry, and do some--much behind on-- critiques.
Well, since it's a holiday and the kiddo is home from school, I'm going to relax myself and spend some time with the family.
So I'll leave you with a little trivia about Martin Luther King Jr. that you may or may not know:
Although extremely involved with his family, his church, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, activities for peace and justice, his world travels, and his many speaking engagements, Dr. King wrote six books and numerous articles.
Named “Man of the Year, “ by Time Magazine, 1963.
In 1948, he graduated from Morehouse College with a B.A. degree in Sociology. That fall he enrolled in Crozer Theological Seminary in Chester, Pennsylvania. While attending Crozer, he also studied at the University ofPennsylvania. He was elected President of the Senior Class and delivered the valedictory address.
He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, at age 35, the youngest man, second American, and the third black man to be so honored, 1964.
IN THE NEWS: " Police say a New Jersey man posed as a female animal doctor, ran an illegal veterinary practice and set up a phony rescue agency that may have duped pet lovers out of thousands of dollars." Read moreHERE.
Well, I didn't start Twilight.
I miss my e-reader too much and just didn't feel like picking up a book. Sad, I know. But I did manage to do a little writing instead. So, that's good, right?
After cutting and pasting for the last two days, I think I FINALLY have two finished chapters. I finished reading the book I wanted (before my e-reader died), too. Therefore, I met my goals for the week.
Boo-yah!
****** On a side note, it's COLD where I am.
Not Fargo, North Dakota cold, but it's pretty darn cold. So... you know what you don't want to be doing in this kind of weather? Chase a trash can outside your house in your bare feet at 3 o'clock in the morning. Yep. I can guarantee you that you don't want to be doing that.
No, I didn't, but the hubby did. (And if you could have seen his face, you'd have known he wasn't happy)
******
Well, I'm taking the weekend off now. I deserve it (and so does the hubby).
MENTAL STATUS: "Annoyed". (See title and post) Recent IPod Downloads: "U Can't Touch This" by MC Hammer. Christmas Tree Status: Still up. Yes, lights, too.
My SONY e-reader needs repair. Already. I've only had it for a month now. Grrrr.... (if you could see my face right now, you'd know I'm not happy)
I snuggled in bed the other night, all ready to read in the dark with my little e-reader light and then... nothing. The stupid thing froze as soon as I turned it on. It wouldn't shut down either. I tried everything the SONY website suggested and nothing fixed the problem, so now I must send it for exchange/repair. Which to me is one big HASSLE.
I just bought 2 new e-books, too. WAH!!!! I really wanted to read them. Now I have to wait and look to my TBR pile of print books. One of them being Twilight by Stephanie Meyer. Yeah, I know I'm missing out by not reading this book yet, but it's just so...thick. I'm intimidated by thick books. Thus, I won't be reading John Adamsanytime soon either.
Oh well. I'll start Twilight tonight. I have no choice.
Am I the only person on the planet who hasn't read this book?
IN THE NEWS: "Finger Length May Predict Financial Success." Read morehere.
Here's my new kitchen lamp: (Christmas gift from my mom)
I didn't take a picture of my old lamp. (Sorry). I was so excited about this one, I forgot. But the old lamp was blue and yellow stained glass. I think this one is "prettier" and matches my kitchen better since I changed all my cabinet hardware to silver, too.
************************************************
In other breaking news...
My husband just informed me that I MISSED THE PREMIERE OF AMERICAN IDOL LAST NIGHT!!!!!
Wah! And ack!
How I could do that?What was I doing? I don't remember. But it wasn't watching TV.
I really hope another one is on tonight. Did anyone watch it? Did I miss anything good?
MENTAL STATUS: "Excited". The chapter I'm working on is totally clicking with me. Recent IPod downloads: "Jump Around" by House of Pain & "Let's Get it Started" by Black Eyed Peas. Christmas Tree status: Still up. Lights too. Well, my temporary setback in writing my story seems to be just that.
Temporary. (Yes!)
I'm in the process of finishing up my long chapter four--which was so long it needed to be split to chapter 4 and 5--and I finally feel my characters and story starting to click. I still need to beef it up a little today, but I feel I'm close to having it ready for crit partner perusal.
My goal this week is to beef up chapter four and five and have at least half of chapter 6 completed. Oh, and finish a book I'm reading.
IN THE NEWS: "BULLHEAD CITY, Ariz. - An "eternal" flame at Bullhead City's new veterans memorial park that only lasted until city officials received a $961 gas bill has been re-lit following complaints by veterans groups." Read morehere.
Meet my latest addiction: Pace's Salsa Verde.
Oh. My. Goodness. I'm hooked! I put this stuff on everything. Well...almost everything. In fact, I took that New Orleans Style Chickenrecipe I posted last week, smothered it in Salsa Verde, and wrapped it in a flour tortilla and thought I was in heaven. It was THAT GOOD. I'm telling you, if you like a little spice (or in my case, a lot of spice) you must try this stuff.
That's my public service announcement for the day. (You're welcome)
************************************
On another cooking note, I was at a fundraiser this weekend and happened to see a few women from my Christmas cookie swap. They absolutely could not gush more about those Pecan Caramel cookies I made. The quote I seem to remember from one of the women was "I know it wasn't a competition, but you definitely won."
Woo-hoo! Oh. Um, I mean, it wasn't a competition, so it's no big deal.
(Boo-yah!!!!)
************************************
And now for a completely unrelated note, my Christmas tree is still up. Yeah, I'm afraid so. The ornaments are off, but the lights are still on (even as type right this minute).
MENTAL STATUS: "Tired". Stayed up reading too late last night.
Well, as you can see, all my Christmas decorations--except for my tree--are gone. I packed the last of the stuff up in boxes yesterday. I guess it's late, huh? I had just planned on waiting for the epiphany, but then time got away from me.
I might start taking the ornaments off the tree today or I might wait until tomorrow. Depends on how productive my writing is.
IN THE NEWS: "Believe it or not: A list of the top lies of 2008." Read what they arehere.
I made this yesterday for dinner, and it is FANTASTIC. I didn't even have all the ingredients. No green bell pepper, only a half of red bell pepper, and no mushrooms. But it was still awesome.
Here's the recipe, which I got from Taste of Home magazine.
New Orleans-Style Chicken
Taste of Home - try a FREE ISSUE today! This hearty one-dish meal from Jason Bagley of Kennewick, Washington is loaded with tender chunks of chicken, colorful veggies , beans and rice. "This healthy dish is a favorite of mine," Jason notes. SERVINGS: 6 CATEGORY: Lower Fat METHOD: TIME: Prep: 30 min. Cook: 50 min.
Ingredients: 1-1/4 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts, cubed 3 teaspoons canola oil, divided 2 medium carrots, chopped 1 large onion, chopped 1 medium green pepper, chopped 1 medium sweet red pepper, chopped 2 portobello mushrooms (3 ounces each), chopped 3 garlic cloves, minced 2-3/4 cups hot water 1 can (15 ounces) black beans, rinsed and drained 1 package (8 ounces) red beans and rice mix 1 can (14-1/2 ounces) diced tomatoes, drained 1/3 cup shredded Asiago cheese
Directions: In a large nonstick skillet, brown chicken in 1 teaspoon oil over medium-high heat; remove and set aside. In the same skillet, saute the carrots, onion and peppers in remaining oil for 10 minutes. Add mushrooms and garlic; saute 1-2 minutes longer or until vegetables are tender. Stir in the water, black beans and red beans and rice mix. Return chicken to the pan; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 30-35 minutes or until liquid is absorbed and rice is tender. Stir in tomatoes; heat through. Just before serving, sprinkle with cheese.
Yield: 6 servings.
Editor’s Note: This recipe was prepared with Zatarain's New Orleans-style red beans and rice.
MENTAL STATUS: "Groovy". Despite my the little problem in my story. Well, it was only a matter of time.
I've hit a little snag in my story. Really with my hero. He's not a likable person--very atypical of me to be writing a character like this, by the way--and I can't figure out WHY he's acting the way he is.
I figure you can write a character any way you want as long as there is some sort of reasoning behind their actions. To be honest, I can't quite put my finger on his motivation. With the kind of baggage this guy has, he shouldn't be acting the way he does. So... I'll be in deep thought today.
I really need to pin his character down before I write any further.
How well do you know your characters before you start writing?
IN THE NEWS: "A federal judge in Brooklyn has rejected a Liberian woman's religious reasons for smuggling endangered monkey meat into the country." Read moreHERE.
I am so feeling the new year!
I'm already feeling productive writing wise and health wise. I couldn't do the Master Cleanse--for reasons only my family are now brutally aware of--**cough cough** but I am doing a daily "fast". Just liquids until 5PM. I can't believe how clear my mind feels just doing that. (Then I do eat a sensible dinner, of course.)
Anyhew, my goal this week is to read a short book and write a short chapter. Simple. To the point. Nothing fancy. And very attainable. Booyah!
MENTAL STATUS: "Anxious". I am SO ready to start writing today.
No, I'm not dead. But thanks for asking.
Actually, I've been enjoying some time off this New Year's week. What have I been doing exactly? Uh, not writing, I can tell you that much. But the two desks in my house are totally organized, I've been cooking some pretty swanky breakfasts for the family, and I organized my Ipod(Hey, sometimes this stuff just needs to be done.)
I got my hubby an IPod for Christmas, thus in a roundabout way giving myself an IPod for Christmas, since now I have total control of the old one. muwa-hahahaha (evil laugh)
Anyhew, did you know they have celebrity playlists at the ITunes store? Yep. I've totally enjoyed seeing what songs celebrities listen to. Some are not surprising, like Weird Al having "Surfin" Bird" by the Trashman on his play list, while others, like Andrew Loyd Weber having Eminem and Justin Timberlake did surprise me.
Janet Evanovich has hers up there, too. They only list about 10 or so songs for each person. But here's what she had:
"Wheel of Fortune" by Hans Zimmer (from Pirates of the Caribbean)
"Think" by Aretha Franklin
"Livin' on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi
"Dancing Queen" by ABBA
"Message in a Bottle" by the Police
"Suerte (Whenever, Wherever) by Shakira
Cool, huh? They even list the reasons why the song is on their IPod. I think you can tell a lot of things about people from the music they listen to, don't you?
**clearing throat**
Um, so let's play if I had a celebrity playlist, here's ten songs on my IPod that I would list.
Ready? Well, get ready. 'Cause here they are:
"Freak Out" by Chic ( I saw this on Heidi Klum's playlist. She said it's a song that always gets on her on the dance floor. And I thought, she's right. I must get it, too. I would be out on the dance floor even if I had a broken leg.)
"Fake Plastic Trees" (the acoustic version) by Radiohead (I LOVE this song. It's great to just chill out to. I so wanted David Cook to perform this on Amercian Idol. I thought it would showcase the softer side of his vocals)
"Vow" by Garbage (This song ROCKS and makes the bitterness in Alanis Morrisette's "You Oughta Know" seem tame in comparison.)
"Holiday" by Greenday ( The kiddo's favorite song on my entire IPod.)
"Rush" by Big Audio Dynamite ( Reminds me of college. The roomates and I used to request this song at the bar we'd hang out in so we could dance)
"Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite" by REM (I have no idea what this song means, but I dig it.)
"Groove is in the heart" by Dee-lite (Groove is in MY heart.)
"Sexyback" by Justin Timberlake (I'm not made of wood, people!)
"Ten Rounds with Jose Cuervo" by Tracy Byrd (This song mades me chuckle every time I hear it.)
"Taking Chances" by Celine Dion (I didn't even realize it was Celine Dion until much later. But I like the lyrics.
What songs would you put on your celebrity playlist?
Tosca Lee is the author of the critically acclaimed Demon: A Memoir (2007), a ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Silver Award winner, American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year nominee, and Christy award finalist. Her eagerly-awaited second novel, Havah: The Story of Eve, released October 2008 to high praise, including a starred review from Publishers Weekly.
A sought-after speaker and first runner-up to Mrs. United States 1998, Tosca works as a Senior Consultant for the Gallup Organization. She received her B.A. in English and International Relations from Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. She also studied at Oxford University.
In her spare time, Tosca enjoys travel, cooking, history and theology. She currently resides in Nebraska.
Publisher: NavPress Publishing Group (October 10, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1600061249
ISBN-13: 978-1600061240
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prologue
I have seen paradise and ruin. I have known bliss and terror.
I have walked with God.
And I know that God made the heart the most fragile and resilient of organs, that a lifetime of joy and pain might be encased in one mortal chamber.
I still recall my first moment of consciousness—an awareness I’ve never seen in the eyes of any of my own children at birth: the sheer ignorance and genius of consciousness, when we know nothing and accept everything.
Of course, the memory of that waking moment is fainter now, like the smell of the soil of that garden, like the leaves of the fig tree in Eden after dawn—dew and leaf green. It fades with that sense of something once tasted on the tip of the tongue, savored now in memory, replaced by the taste of something similar but never quite the same.
His breath a lost sough, the scent of earth and leaf mold that was his sweaty skin has faded too quickly. So like an Eden dawn—dew on fig leaves.
His eyes were blue, my Adam’s.
How I celebrated that color, shrouded now in shriveled eyelids—he who was never intended to have even a wrinkle! But even as I bend to smooth his cheek, my hair has become a white waterfall upon his Eden—flesh and loins that gave life to so many.
I think for a moment that I hear the One and that he is weeping. It is the first time I have heard him in so long, and my heart cries out: He is dead! My father, my brother, my love!
I envy the earth that envelopes him. I envy the dust that comes of him and my children who sow and eat of it.
This language of Adam’s—the word that meant merely “man” before it was his name—given him by God himself, is now mine. And this is my love song. I will craft these words into the likeness of the man before I, too, return to the earth of Adam’s bosom.
My story has been told in only the barest of terms. It is time you heard it all. It is my testament to the strength of the heart, which has such capacity for joy, such space for sorrow, like a vessel that fills and fills without bursting.
My seasons are nearly as many as a thousand. So now listen, sons, and hear me, daughters. I, Havah, fashioned by God of Adam say this:
In the beginning, there was God . . .
But for me, there was Adam.
The Garden
Chapter 1
A whisper in my ear: Wake!
Blue. A sea awash with nothing but a drifting bit of down, flotsam on an invisible current. I closed my eyes. Light illuminated the thin tissues of my eyelids.
A bird trilled. Near my ear: the percussive buzz of an insect. Overhead, tree boughs stirred in the warming air.
I lay on a soft bed of herbs and grass that tickled my cheek, my shoulders, and the arch of my foot, whispering sibilant secrets up to the trees.
From here, I felt the thrum of the sap in the stem; the pulsing veins of the vine; the beat of my heart in euphony with hundreds more around me; the movement of the earth a thousand miles beneath.
I sighed as one returning to sleep, to retreat to the place I had been before, the realm of silence and bliss—wherever that is.
Wake!
I opened my eyes again upon the milling blue, saw it spliced by the flight of a bird, chevron in the sky.
This time, the voice came not to my ear, but directly to my stirring mind: Wake!
There was amusement in it.
I knew nothing of where or what I was, did not understand the polyphony around me or the wide expanse like a blue eternity before me.
But I woke and knew I was alive.
A rustle, a groan practically in my ear. I twitched at a stirring against my hip. A moment later, a touch drifted across a belly I did not yet know I owned, soft as a leaf skittering along the ground.
A face obscured my vision. I screamed. Not with fear—I was no acquaintance of fear—nor with startlement, because I had been aware of the presence already, but because it was the only statement that came to lips as artless as mine.
The face disappeared and returned, blinking into my own, the blue above captured in twin pools . Then, like a gush of water from a rock, gladness thrilled my heart. But its source was not me.
At last! It came, unspoken—a different source than the voice before—the words thrust jubilantly to the sky: “At last!”
He was up on legs like the trunks of sturdy saplings, beating at the earth with his feet. He thumped his chest and shouted to the sun and clapped his hands. “At last!” he cried, his laughter like warm clay between the toes. He shook his shoulders and stomped the grass, slapping his chest as he shouted again and again. Though I did not understand the utterance, I knew its meaning at once: joy and exultation at something longed for suddenly found.
I tried to mimic his sound; it came out as a squawk and then a panting laugh. Overhead, a lark chattered an extravagant address. I squeaked a shrill reply. The face lowered to mine, and the man’s arms wrapped, womb-tight, around me.
“Flesh of my flesh,” he whispered, hot against my ear. His fingers drifted from my hair to my body, roaming like the goat on the hills of the Sacred Mount. I sighed, expelling the last remnants of that first air from my lungs—the last of the breath in them not drawn by me alone.
He was high-cheeked, this adam, his lower lip dipping down like a folded leaf that drips sweet water to thirsty mouths. His brow was a hawk, soaring above the high cliffs, his eyes blue lusters beneath the fan of his lashes. But it was his mouth that I always came back to, where my eyes liked best to fasten after taking in the shock of those eyes. Shadow ran along his jaw, obsidian dust clinging to the curve of it, drawing my eye to the plush flesh of his lips, again, again, again.
He touched my face and traced my mouth. I bit his finger. He gathered my hands and studied them, turning them over and back. He smelled my hair and lingered at my breasts and gazed curiously at the rest of me. When he was finished, he began all over again, tasting my cheek and the salt of my neck, tracing the instep of my foot with a fingertip.
Finally, he gathered me up, and my vision tilted to involve an altogether new realm: the earth and my brown legs upon it. I clutched at him. I seemed a giant, towering above the earth—a giant as tall as he. My first steps stuttered across the ground as the deer in the hour of its birth, but then I pushed his hands away. My legs, coltish and lean, found their vigor as he urged me, walking far too fast, to keep up. He made for the orchard, and I bolted after him with a surge of strength and another of my squawking sounds. Then we were running—through grasses and over fledgling sloes, the dark wool of my hair flying behind me.
We raced across the valley floor, and my new world blurred around me: hyssop and poppy, anemone, narcissus, and lily. Roses grew on the foothills amidst the caper and myrtle.
A blur beside me: the long-bodied great cat. I slowed, distracted by her fluidity, the smooth curve of her head as she tilted it to my outstretched hand. I fell to the ground, twining my arms around her, fingers sliding along her pelt. Her tongue was rough—unlike the adam’s—and she rumbled as she rolled against me.
Far ahead, the adam called. Overhead, a hawk circled for a closer look. The fallow deer at a nearby stream lifted her head.
The adam called again, wordlessly: longing and exuberance. I got up and began to run, the lioness at my heels. I was fast—nearly as fast as she. Exhilaration rose from my lungs in quick pants—in laughter. Then, with a burst, she was beyond me.
She was gone by the time the adam caught me up in his arms. His hands stroked my back, his lips, my shoulder. I marveled at his skin—how smooth, how very warm it was.
“You are magnificent,” he said, burying his face against me. “Ah, Isha—woman, taken from man!”
I said nothing; although I understood his meaning, I did not know his words. I knew with certainty and no notion of conceit, though, that he was right.
At the river he showed me how he cupped his hands to drink, and then cupped them again for me. I lowered my head and drank as a carp peered baldy from the shallows up at me.
We entered the water. I gasped as it tickled the backs of my knees and hot hairs under my arms, swirling about my waist as though around a staunch rock as our toes skimmed a multitude of pebbles. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders.
“All of this: water,” he said, grunting a little bit as he swam toward the middle of the river where it widened into a broad swath across the valley floor. “Here—the current.”
“Water,” I said, understanding in the moment I spoke it the element in all its forms—from the lake fed by the river to the high springs that flow from the abyss of the Mount. I felt the pull of it as though it had a gravity all its own—as though it could sweep me out to the cold depths of the lake and lull me by the tides of the moon.
From the river I could see the high walls of our cradle: the great southern Mount rising to heaven, and to the north, the foothills that became the long spine of a range that arched toward the great lake to the west.
I knew even then that this was a place set apart from the unseen lands to the north, the alluvial plain to the south, the great waters to the east and far to the west.
It was set apart solely because we dwelt in it.
But we were not alone. I could see them, after a time, even as we left the river and lay upon its banks. I saw them in sidelong glances when I looked at something else: a sunspot caught in the eye, a ripple in the air, a shock of light where there should be only shadow. And so I knew there were other beings, too.
The adam, who studied me, said nothing. We did not know their names.
The first voice I heard urging me to wake had not been the man’s. Now I felt the presence of it near me, closer than the air, than even the adam’s arms around me.
I returned the man’s strange amazement, taken by his smooth, dark skin, the narrowness of his hips, his strange sex. He was warmer than I, as though he had absorbed the heat of the sun, and I laid my cheek against his flat breasts and listened to the changeling beat of his heart. My limbs, so fresh to me, grew heavy. As languor overtook me, I retreated from the sight of my lovely, alien world.
Perhaps in closing my eyes, I would return to the place I had been before.
For the first time since waking, I hoped not.
I slept to the familiar thrum of his heart as insects made sounds like sleepy twitches through the waning day.
When I woke, his cheek was resting against the top of my head. Emotion streamed from his heart, though his lips were silent.
Gratitude.
I am the treasure mined from the rock, the gem prized from the mount.
He stirred only when I did and released me with great reluctance. By then the sun had moved along the length of our valley. My stomach murmured.
He led me to the orchard and fed me the firm flesh of plums, biting carefully around the pits and feeding the pieces to me until juice ran down our chins and bees came to sample it. He kissed my fingers and hands and laid his cheek against my palms.
That evening we lay in a bower of hyssop and rushes—a bower, I realized, that he must have made it on a day before this one.
A day before I existed.
We observed together the changing sky as it cooled gold and russet and purple, finally anointing the clay earth red.
Taken from me. Flesh of my flesh. At last. I heard the timbre of his voice in my head in my last waking moment. Marvel and wonder were upon his lips as he kissed my closing eyes.
I knew then he would do anything for me.
That night I dreamed of blackness. Black, greater than the depths of the river or the great abyss beneath the lake.
From within that nothingness there came a voice that was not a voice, that was neither sound nor word but volition and command and genesis. And from the voice, a word that was no word but the language of power and genesis and fruition.
There! A mote spark—a light first so small as the tip of a pine needle. It exploded past the periphery of my dreaming vision, obliterating the dark. The heavens were vast in an instant, stretching without cease to the edges of eternity.
I careened past new bodies that tugged me in every direction; even the tiniest particles possessed their own gravity. From each of them came the same concert, that symphony of energy and light.
I came to stand upon the earth. It was a great welter of water, the surface of it ablaze with the refracted light of heavens upon heavens. It shook my every fiber, like a string that is plucked and allowed to resonate forever.
I was galvanized, made anew, thrumming that inaugural sound: the yawning of eternity.
USA Today bestselling and award-winning sweet romance author for Montlake Romance, and Entangled Publishing.
Loves the Red Sox and has been on a serious exercise kick. But don't hold those last two against her. :)
