Featured Author series was FABULOUS!!

(Me and my MAIN MAN)

Hello everyone, authors/readers:

I just wanted to THANK all of the AUTHORS that participated in my series of featuring authors.  ALL the authors were outstanding and had so much to share not just with readers but other authors as well…( we all like to know our competition) 🙂

It’s come to a close for now but I leave the door open to any other authors that would like to be featured on my blog, I’m sure I can fit you in somewhere 🙂

Again THANK YOU AUTHORS you did a FANTASTIC JOB!!!!

Lori

Featured Author: Peter John

Featured Author:

Peter John

Peter John

  1. Please introduce yourself. Tell us a little about the person behind the pen.

I was born blue (I am not a smurf) back in 1973. My Mother had a hysterectomy straight after giving birth to me, which I has always felt a little insecure about. It was as if she had taken one look at me and decided, there and then, that she wasn’t going to have another one of me. Coupled with the fact that I have been told that I was an accident, I am left wondering if I am even supposed to be here on this Earth. When she got back to the ward, a nurse had sat her down and explained that I had stopped breathing and had turned a funny blue colour, while she was in the operating theatre; it was only by chance that another patent had seen me laying there and had alerted the hospital staff of my condition. I had survived my first day alive by the skin of teeth that I had yet to grow and each following day seemed easy by comparison.

It wasn’t until I had reached the ripe old age of fourteen that I discovered the desire to write and I have been indulging that desire ever since.

***

2.   What made you decide to write (the genre of your book), were there any influencing factors, or were any of the stories based on true events.   

I decided to write a paranormal comedy because of all the years that I have spent listening to my mother talk about the many spiritual readings that she has attended in her life. While the main plot of my book is not based on true events, several incidents within it most definitely are.

***

3.   How do you promote your book, and do you find that difficult or just par for the course.

I find that book promotion is harder and more time consuming that the actual writing itself. My view on promotion techniques fall down to a simple concept: People will hear the sound of one voice but the sound of many voices will make people listen. Independent doesn’t mean that you have to face this world alone.

***

4.   Do you remember your first review and how it made you feel?  (If it was a bad one, also tell about your good one too).

My first review was a wonderful one that suddenly appeared halfway through my first ever free promotion. The timing couldn’t have been better and, if I ever get the chance, I would like to thank that individual from the bottom of my heart. I was inexperienced and unsure of myself, that first review gave me a sense of hope that I have yet to lose.

***

5.   Tell us about your book and if it’s a series and how the public is reacting to this book.

Dead Medium Cover Art

Dead Medium is a humorous look at life after death. It revolves around May Elizabeth Trump, a grouchy old woman with little time for other people. May dies and becomes the rarest of ghosts, a dead medium: a ghost who can communicate with the living. It’s filled with larger than life characters, humorous one liners and an ever encroaching darkness.

***

6.     Can you share any and all links that are important to you as a person and the book?  (You can relate more to a book if you know more about the author).   

 The Trump Diary Blog   http://thetrumpdiary.wordpress.com is my Blog-site and it is also the home of my serialised prequel to Dead Medium. The Trump Diary is a documentation of May Trump’s final months prior to her untimely death.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwaZ4B3Htm8 I am rather impressed by this video by Puddingtane Productions.

The Rekindled Affair Kindle Cover Scaled c    This is my perma-free Dead Medium Spin-Off Short Story http://www.amazon.com/Rekindled-Affair-Peter-John-ebook/dp/B00FOF8W8I

http://www.amazon.com/Peter-John/e/B00B0MNUVI

http://deadmediumpeterjohn.webs.com

https://www.facebook.com/DeadMediumbyPeterJohn

Wrapped Up In Brown Paper Cover RK    https://www.facebook.com/WrappedUpInBrownPaper

https://twitter.com/AttemptedAuthor

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6899829.Peter_John

***

7.    I’ll wrap it up with this question since “7” is a lucky numberJ.   Can you share an excerpt from your book, and I’d like to thank you so much for taking time to share your book with me. Please share as much as you’d like.

This is one of my favorite scenes where The Thursday Night Club first meet the late May Trump.

***

May watched as the four old ladies shuffled out of their coats and sat around the coffee table on. Chloe returned a few moments later with five glasses. She had left the box in the kitchen; it was obviously cake. She placed a glass in front of each of her guests and then collected their coats, which were being held up expectantly. She took them to the wall hooks in the hallway. The coats were thick and heavy, she seemed to struggle a little with the burden. When she returned she took the only vacant seat, which was opposite Barbara.

“Oh do you need a corkscrew?” Chloe said as she started to rise back out of her seat.

“No dear, it’s not a posh plonk.” Victoria said as she unscrewed the wine bottle.

“So we should start with introductions I guess,” Barbara said as Victoria filled the waiting glasses.

“Of course,” Chloe agreed. “My name is Chloe Saunders and I’m so very glad you all were able to come tonight.”

“Yes I remember you from Gracie’s don’t I?” Deborah said. “I’m Deborah but you can call me Debs if you like.” Margaret reached out for her glass.

“My name’s Margaret,” she greeted as she sipped her wine.

“And Victoria you met earlier today as well,” Barbara pointed out. “Now what seems to be the problem?” Chloe took a deep breath; they had gone over this initial statement many times.

“My mum has recently passed away,” Chloe announced.

“God bless her soul,” Deborah interrupted her with the best of intentions.

“Yes bless her soul,” Victoria agreed, raising her glass. They gave a toast to Penny and then Chloe continued.

“It has been a hard time for me, which has been made even more disturbing by some strange events that have recently been occurring in this very house.” Each of the group leaned forward in their seats.

“Ever since my mother died, I’ve been hearing strange sounds and even voices in the night. Things that I have never previously experienced. To tell you the truth, I’m beginning to feel quite uneasy living here.” May and Penny listened intently, the speech had been a joint effort.

“I need to know if the spirit of my dear departed mother still resides here. I‘m at the end of my tether, I‘m worried I might be losing my mind.” Margaret reached over and patted Chloe lightly on the hand.

“You’re not going mad dear,” she soothed. “During time of stress, your judgement can become clouded. If we can’t find any evidence of your mother’s spirit here, don’t worry yourself. You’re probably just reacting normally; this is a particularly traumatic time in your life.” The rest of the group nodded in agreement.

“That’s only if we don’t discover anything supernatural here tonight” Barbara confidently added.

“Drink some wine, settle your nerves,” Victoria suggested. “It’s alright; I’ve got another bottle in my bag.” Chloe picked up her glass and took a token sip.

“I think we should start by lighting some candles,” Barbara suggested.

“Always with the candles, I don’t see how they help?” Victoria groaned. Barbara pulled four small, red tea-light candles from her bag.

“They work I tell you!” Barbara said as she placed the candles on the table. She put coasters underneath them to protect the wooden surface.

“How do you know?” Victoria asked, “Have you ever tried without them?”

“We have never had a reaction from the spirit world without them,” Margaret pointed out. Victoria looked over at her.

“We have never been without them to know!” Victoria said. Deborah put her hand in the air.

“I quite like them; I think they’re rather pretty,” she announced.

“They calm the spirits and make them more amiable and approachable.” Barbara explained as she begun to light the candles. May watched the candles burn and felt no calming effects; she was more worried about them becoming a fire hazard. Penny seemed to like them, however, so maybe Barbara did have something there.

“We should all hold hands around the table now,” Barbara said, reaching out to Deborah and Victoria who were sitting either side of her on the sofa. Victoria swapped her wine glass to her free hand. Margaret, who was in one of the arm chairs, could just reach Deborah’s other hand. Victoria quickly downed the last of her wine before putting the empty glass down and taking Chloe’s hand across the table; she had to move one of the candles for fear of burning herself. Chloe reached out with her other hand and held Margaret’s free hand at an uncomfortable stretch. They looked a little awkward and unevenly stretched.

“It’s usually more comfortable with a round table,” Barbara pointed out, even though she had the position of greatest comfort. May walked around the group and tried to work out who was going to fall out of their seat first. Her money was on Chloe; she seemed to be making the most effort to be within reach.

“Right then, if you would all now try to relax,” Barbara instructed.

“Not likely!” Victoria pointed out.

“Well try your best, it helps.”

“What as much as the candles?”

“Please Vicky we are trying to help young Chloe put her demons to rest. Can you please concentrate,” Barbara closed her eyes. She started to hum softly and sway a little, or as much as the conditions would allow.

“Come hither to us restless spirits. Tell us your woes and let us help guide you on the path to peace and contentment.” Margaret leaned towards Chloe slightly, which in turn threatened to lift Deborah from her seat.

“She wrote those chants herself,” Margaret whispered. “They’re rather good don’t you think?” Chloe smiled back at her, either way the words were pointless. The ghosts were already present and waiting.

May still wasn’t sure about the initial greeting that they had finally agreed upon. She was worried that it was a corny, stereotypical way to instigate communication. She Stood by the doorway and cupped her hands over her mouth, in an attempt to create a muffled echoic voice.

“Woo!” she called out self consciously. The group reacted with surprise and Chloe tried to mimic them.

“What was that?” Margaret yelled in shock.

“Keep concentrating everyone; I think we’ve got something here,” Barbara said.

“Woo…woo! Who disturbs the cosmic forces and summons me to this place?” May said as she began to get into the swing of it. Margaret‘s shock seemed to give way to nervous confusion.

“It is I, Madam Smith of the Inner Circle of Sacred Seers, who summons you here today,” Barbara replied. Her voice sounded confident but her facial expression suggested that this was probably her first real spectral encounter.

“For what reason do you summon me into your presence?” May was beginning to ad-lib a little. Margaret kept trying to grab Barbara’s attention. Deborah was a white as a sheet and Victoria was trying to reach for the wine bottle, while still not releasing Chloe’s hand.

“Barbara!” Margaret called but appeared to be ignored. She tugged at Deborah’s arm to get her attention but Deborah was as stiff as a pole.

“We summon you here today to help Young Chloe Saunders ease her suffering after the passing of her mother. Are we speaking to Penny Saunders?” Barbara called out.

“No I am not she,” May replied through her cupped hands. “She’s standing over by the window.” Margaret clearly wasn’t having any more of this charade as she released her grip from Deborah’s and Chloe’s hands and stood up from her chair. Victoria took the opportunity to release Chloe’s other hand and make a grab for the wine bottle.

***Peter John is a colleague of mine and I strongly recommend you perusing his books 🙂 

Thank you Peter for accepting my interview request.

AUTHORS/READERS: Help those in the PHILIPPINES!!!

Support “Enthusiasm” and “My First Travel Book” For A Cause: Super Typhoon Haiyan

With your loving thought and support upon purchasing Enthusiam and My First Travel Book, the author of Enthusiasm, Fida Abbott and the author of My First Travel Book, Anna Othitis,  would love to donate to the Philippines, towards the victims of the recent “Super Typhoon Haiyan” disaster (natures fury) who lost all, their hearts go out to them. You can purchase these books for Christmas/Thanksgiving gift if you have already had or read them.
Support “Enthusiasm” and “My First Travel Book” For A Cause: Super Typhoon Haiyan

http://networkedblogs.com/R28dl  (Go to this site to get INVOLVED).

 

This site is also looking for other authors to share their books as well.  Any one interested contact Anna George Othitis on FB.

Featured Author: Debra Kamza/ Ampbreia Weiss

Featured Author:

Ampbreia1

Debra Kamza / Ampbreia Weiss

1.  Please introduce yourself. Tell us a little about the person behind the pen.

I was born in Vallejo, CA but have lived in Everett WA since I was 5.  My childhood was a mostly happy one full of countless pets, huge family get-togethers, camping trips, and lots of books.  I have always loved reading, learning, and writing.  For as long as I remember, I’ve written stories and poems and loved to keep my little brother and friends entertained with ongoing stories whose ends I teasingly left dangling.  My older sister was annoyed, though, at my habit of getting up in the middle of the night to write whenever a dream inspired me, which was often.

I was raised a Pentecostal Christian, rebelled from its social divisiveness, anti-feminism, and boxed thinking when I was a teenager but fell straight into Shi-ite Islam not long after, not because I was particularly attracted to it but only because I was curious about it and greatly mislead about it by the Iranian guy I met in college and later married.  Yeah.  My book covers that in detail.  Suffice it say her that I am seriously burned out on religion.  I don’t mind if other people practice it; good for them if it makes them happy; but I’m long since done with it.  It’s just not for me.

I used to play piano, sing, and even wrote some music as a young adult but have since lost interest in that.  Having kids kind of diverted my attention from it in no small way.  Little fingers on the keyboard you know?  But my own little girl eventually took up where I left off all on her own initiative.

In the present, I’m married to a good guy now and we work together in an aerospace calibration lab.  I also love to dabble in arts of all kinds, dress up with my family and go to festivals, and dance.  I especially love belly dancing and have been doing it for seven years now.

2.   What made you decide to write Lost in Foreign Passions? Were there any influencing factors, or were any of the stories based on true events?

It’s a memoir of that turbulent time of my life when I mistakenly put my trust in a foreigner, went to live in his very troubled homeland, and adopted his religion just because it was so important to him.  A three-year nightmare was the immediate but mind-opening result, not to mention the loss of my son.  Writing it all out was a necessary catharsis for me and I thought it might help others as well.  Even if not for all that, it was still the adventure of a lifetime and an important learning experience.

3.   How do you promote your book, and do you find that difficult or just par for the course.

I honestly don’t really know how to do that other than to mention it in my blog now and then and to have an author site here and there. I have never had an agent, never found one willing to deal with that kind of political-religious hot potato.  I did originally trust it to Publish America because they claimed they were a “traditional publisher” but ended up having to end my 7-year contract with them four years early due to very shady unprofessional, non-traditional behavior on their part.  After that, I couldn’t bring myself to trust another publisher and, like the thing with religion, decided to go it on my own when the right opportunity presented itself: Amazon Author Central, which has been wonderful to me.

4.   Do you remember your first review and how it made you feel?  (If it was a bad one, also tell about your good one too).

Happy and relieved I guess that someone actually cared and that they found my story worth their time.  She was really enthusiastic about it and that felt wonderful, reassuring, you know.  I’m confident in my writing ability, but I wrote this memoir AND published it despite my very real fear (a terror really) that people would judge me very badly for it or consider me hopelessly stupid for haven fallen for all I did.  Nevertheless, it was a story I felt needed telling.  I was being brave, you see.

5.   Tell us about your book and if it’s a series and how the public is reacting to this book.

DreamLover  Passions2ndEd

Those who have read it have liked it very much.  Many who know me personally or have heard of me from others have told me they’d like to read it and are disappointed that they can’t find it in brick and mortar book stores.  But it really isn’t very widely known.

6.    Can you share any and all links that are important to you as a person and the book?  (You can relate more to a book if you know more about the author). 

Well, I have two author sites:  one for my pen Debra Kamza (former married name) under which I wrote my memoir at

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/BOOBNVI6Y2

and one for the fiction and poetry I write under the name of Ampbreia Weiss at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/BOOBNVPADM ,

only one book of which is posted there right now, Dream Lover.

These are the only two I have published through Amazon Author Central so far, but I plan on doing more.

I also have a blog at http://www.ampbreia.wordpress.com

where I write about anything and everything.

7.     I’ll wrap it up with this question since “7” is a lucky number.   Can you share an excerpt from your book, and I’d like to thank you so much for taking time to share your book with me. Please share as much as you’d like.

I was staring right up the surgery lamp as they lifted me onto to table and peeled up my dress in order to shave me.  I felt the cold of the water and heard the scrape of the razor below my abdomen while seeing only the lamp, a male surgeon, and a nurse.  I knew they were going to cut me open yet, wrapped in a strange euphoria, I didn’t care.

They didn’t see me watching and acted as if I was still unconscious.  I wanted to let him know I wasn’t, so I asked the surgeon if he could please arrange a mirror for me to watch the surgery in.  I must have been out of my mind to want that!

He gave me a startled look, dropped whatever he was holding and ordered the nurse to him on the double.  Dazedly, I watched the nurse put together a hypo and even that didn’t bother me (usually, such a sight would have made me cringe).  Then, recovering himself nicely, the surgeon inserted the hypo into my IV, telling me, “You will fall asleep in ten seconds.”

I didn’t believe him.  I giggled while he counted to ten.  It was the last thing I remembered of the surgery room.

Two days later, I awoke in a hospital bed in a dirty and dimly lit room. A stranger — a tall, swarthy, young man — was sitting, asleep, in a chair at my side. I couldn’t move my hand to nudge him, so I patiently waited for him to wake up on his own.  When he did, he jumped up with a show of great excitement and said, “You have a son, Honume Jon!”

I almost had heart failure at this I was in such a total amnesiac stupor.  I gave him a long stare.  “A son?  How could I have a son when I’ve never been pregnant? Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m your husband Peeshee jon.  Don’t you remember me?”

I didn’t remember him or anything else.  I demanded proof of everything he said.  I checked my belly for signs of pregnancy: It lay flat as a pancake with nothing of note moving within.  I thought nothing ever had been in there.  As disoriented as I was, I think I expected being pregnant to be proof of having just delivered a baby.  I wanted to see marriage documents.  I wanted to know where I was and, when he answered that, where the hell Iran was.

He willingly showed me marriage documents and where Iran was on a world map, but it didn’t mean anything to me.  The last thing I could recall was being in high school, and that was foggy.

Seeing the baby was all that would make any of this real, but that was the one thing the dark young man failed to produce on demand.  I bugged him endlessly to see the baby he swore I’d had.  Why couldn’t he show me this baby if it really existed?

For this last he offered no answer.

A day and a half passed during which the stranger, Reza, stayed with me almost constantly, making his wild claims, sleeping on a lower bed at the side of the room, and taking savory meals of choloe kebab.  I was brought nothing but bouillon and juice.  My stomach churned in hungry protest at this unfairness.  Besides being discombobulated to say the least, I waxed a bit cranky.

“When are you going to show me the baby you claim I had?” I demanded for what must have been the umpteenth time.  “I don’t know why you people are telling me such a thing when you’re not prepared to prove it.  Is this some kind of elaborate hoax? because if it is, your hoax has got holes in it.  This place is furnished like a hospital, but get real: it’s filthy!  Everyone knows that hospitals are sterile and new mothers in them are allowed to hold their babies as soon as they’ve given birth.  So where’s my baby?”

Reza was, by now, waving his hands in desperation for me to shut up. Finally, he swore he’d get me the baby if it were the last thing he did that day.  He did too, within the very hour.  He chased the nurse in with him and had her place the warm, flannel wrapped bundle in my arms.

At first, even then, I didn’t believe the baby could be mine.  I thought, for one thing, that a mother would remember nine months of grueling pregnancy.  I didn’t remember any of it.  Secondly, the baby was huge: almost ten pounds.  He was either a month old already or had come from a much larger woman than I was.  Heck, I knew my own size at least: five foot nothing and ninety-five pounds soaking wet.

The baby was beautiful, though.  He had huge black eyes, a shock of curly brown hair, and the sweetest little grin on I’d ever seen.  The feel of him against me was like the tickle of a kitten’s purr at my side.  Well, I thought, he certainly is a sweetie even if this is a trick.  I still didn’t think he could possibly be a newborn.  I thought that, besides being much smaller, newborns were always bald, red-skinned, and incapable of smiling.  This baby, if he was mine, put lie to that theory.

For nearly a half-hour, they let me hold him.  He smiling at me nearly the whole time, snuggled in the crook of my arm but when he started gnawing on his fist, then crying, I didn’t know what it was about.  The nurse did.  She came rushing to take the baby from me, saying it was his feeding time and she had a bottle ready for him in the nursery.  She was gone with him before I’d even thought up a protest.

I started regaining my memory from that moment on.

*** Debra is a great friend and colleague who I’ve known for MANY YEARS.    We share a common interest, we both lived in Iran while married to our Iranian husbands and had traumatic experiences.  I urge you strongly to read her book.  Debra also designed the cover of my book, so her talent runs LONG!

Dedication to a friend and fellow author, Sandra McLeod Humphrey.

To a friend of mine that recently died in a house fire along with her husband, may they RIP, and God Bless them both.
             Sandra McLeod Humphrey– who was the author of several childrens books.   Sandra,   you will be truly missed by so many. Sometimes in life we meet people that we never get to experience what that person was all about, but theres something inside you that says this person is special and worth knowing. I believe you were that person for me. I feel like I’m cheated but it was that age old adage I always said to myself I will get to know this person better when I get time, or I will peruse her books when I get time, of course we never let ourselves have that time. We always seem so caught up in things that truly are meaningless and not worthy of our time like a possible good friend could have been.
I will miss you and the woman I didn’t get to know will be missed more because she truly was  a great person, and your reputation spoke to the type of individual you were.
and it wasn’t just my loss it was a loss for the literary world.  She had sent me an autographed copy of her book “They stood ALONE 25 mena and women who made a difference”  I suggest anyone who loves to hear about heroes and pioneers  read this book.  Sandra was prolific with childrens books, but this was a winner no matter what age group.  http://www.amazon.com/They-Stood-Alone-Women-Difference/dp/1616144858/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354223184&sr=1-1&keywords=they+stood+alone+25+men+and+women+who+made+a+difference
Thank you Sandra you left behind so many “GREAT” books to teach and entertain children, and after all educating our youth makes you a Perennial being!
Lori Foroozandeh   fellow author and friend.