Saturday, March 31, 2007

Happy Easter/Passover

Welcome. I wish you a happy holiday for whatever holiday you celebrate. My dog, Kate, and her cohorts in crime (2 cats) Liberty and Acorn are eagerly anticipated their holiday baskets of treats for kids with paws.

THE VIOLIN is out searching for a home right now and I'm just waiting to hear from them. If you don't remember anything about this book, it's an almost true story about John Douglas who drown in 2 foot of water in 1927 and Genevieve, who buys his violin in the present time and is transported back to 1927. She wants to save his life but she thinks he has a secret he won't reveal and she keeps having these strange dreams that come true.
I post the opening of chapter one for you in a minute.

Meanwhile I'm writing THE LIGHT OF VALMORA. Peregrine and Falcon McKnight seem to have eyes for the same gypsy, Izabelle. Whose heart will be broken or will neither of them win her? They are on a quest to find the Light of Valmora, a magical light that will save Valmora and Raven from the witch Mahara who has returned even stronger than before she was vanquished from the Dark Isle. As they travel with their friends on their quest to the darkest place on earth, they each reveal their own truth. It's like Lord of the Rings meets Cantebury Tales.

Meanwhile, here's that excerpt I promised from THE VIOLIN:

THE VIOLIN Unedited Excerpt Sarah J. McNeal

Chapter One
Genevieve began to dream the familiar dream again. The man was dressed in canvas trousers, a white cotton shirt with no collar and suspenders. He was fly fishing in a picturesque scene with steep banks of forest on either side of the river that hurried past rocks and boulders. The water scrubbed his waders sometimes a few inches below his knees and other times deeper, up to his waist as the man worked the river using a fishing pole and skill.

The man was standing with his back to her. She watched the muscles in his back as he cast his line into the water. The wind ruffled his hair and the sunlight glinted through it. Water gurgled and splashed happily as it bumped along the rocks and boulders. It seemed to be a pleasant scene but something wasn't right.

Genevieve had a feeling deep in her core that something ominous was about to happen. She tensed and her heart went into overdrive. She heard someone scream. Was it her? The man began to turn. She could almost see his face.

Then the dream started to tumble out of control.

She couldn't breathe. She suddenly found herself under the water looking up through it into the clear, blue sky. The man's face was looking down at her but she couldn't make out what he looked like because the water distorted his appearance. He reached toward her as if to help her when everything went black.

She struggled up to the surface of her dream to awaken gasping for breath and feeling confused about where she was. She pulled herself up and leaned against the headboard hugging her knees to keep from shaking. A fine film of perspiration had formed on her upper lip and her heart was still playing a staccato rhythm against her ribs. She reached over and turned on the lamp that rested on the nightstand. She felt as though she'd run a marathon.

What was wrong with her? Why did she keep having these dreams? Always, they occurred back at the turn of the century. It wasn't always this particular dream. There were several of them. Though she never saw his face, she believed it was the same man in all her dreams.

In one of them she was dancing with the dream man. There were lanterns strung on ropes that looped from tree to tree creating a pleasant glow as she was twirled and dipped by the man to the music of a small band. As the dream continued, the music would slow and he would draw her in closer. Amazingly she could smell him and he smelled good like soap and pine trees and open sky. She felt his chest rumble and knew he was laughing. She could even feel his warm breath as it tickled her ear.

Occasionally she dreamed about a violin. It was a well used instrument with softly gleaming wood laying in an old fashioned case.
Something sad happened to it or its owner. She knew this as well as if it could talk to her. Every time she dreamed of the violin, a knot seemed to form in her throat. In the little compartment in the violin's case lay the answer to the melancholy feelings she felt about the violin. Many times her dream would lead her to grasp the ribbon loop that would open the compartment but she always resisted looking inside it. Whatever was in there, she didn't want to see it.