A writer inspired by nature and human nature


SPOOK-tacular haiku from my author friend Priscilla Bettis! 🎃 Happy Halloween…🧡 ~Bette A. Stevens 4writersandreaders.com

Priscilla Bettis, Author

Spooky image of pumpkin at night

I wrote a Halloween haiku every day for a week in anticipation of the haunty holiday.

7

autumn dewy web
silken silver labyrinth
tiny fangs tarry

6

fall weather welcomes
delicate chills like icy
fingers on your neck

5

October howling
winds strum bare willow branches
werewolves howling too

4

ruby hourglass
nestles moonlit poisonous pearls
a hundred eggs stir

3

dead, curled leaves crackle
feet shuffle in night’s dark veil
the wroth witch cackles

2

fog smothers the ground
dropped leaves rot and mold, their stench
like an open grave

1

bat wings whispering
tombstones tumble, a haint weeps
bodies rise and lurch

Have a happy Halloween!

This post was possible due to Bette Stevens’ tips and Anthony Renfro’s encouragement. Thanks, you two.:-)
Author and poet Bette’s blog: here.
Author and poet Anthony’s blog: here.

Feature image is by Andreas Dress on Unsplash.

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Make writing a Family Affair!

Find out how to write a Haiku poem & get the kids writing too…

Black Cat HALLOWEEN Haiku BAS 2019

 

Midnight—our fabulous, furry feline—inspired me to write BLACK CAT, a Halloween haiku (Haiku: a Japanese-inspired three-line: 5-7-5 syllable poetry form) and to design a poster to go with the poem. Kids love illustrating their poems. They enjoy listening to poetry and to reading it aloud too. 

Reading and writing poetry is a fantastic way to improve creativity and critical thinking skills for people of all ages. Plus, it’s an outstanding way to foster foundational learning and literacy for children. It’s so much fun to read and write poetry together! The kids will love it and I know you will too. Whether at home or in the classroom writing and sharing poetry is a perfect way to celebrate any season—for any reason! 

What’s inspiring you this autumn?
Brainstorm your list and get writing.
Have fun—don’t forget to get the kids writing too!

Here are some Writer’s Tricks (literary devices found in every writer’s toolbox) I used to create BLACK CAT. These tools can set a mood— they make writing and reading memorable and fun.  Check them out and see if you can discover where I used them in my poem.

Read on to find out more about these literary devices.

BLACK CAT

Black cat waits, watches…
Stalking tricksters in their webs.
Spiders are her treats!

© Bette A. Stevens, Maine author

Three 🎃Tricks from the Writer’s Toolbox (Literary devices) used in writing poetry and prose

  • Assonance
    Assonance is the repetition of vowel sounds in nearby words.
  • Consonance
    Another literary device used by writers and poets is consonance—repetitive sounds produced by consonants within a sentence or phrase. This repetition often takes place in quick succession.
  • Alliteration
    You put your alliteration tool to work when words that start with the same sound are used close together in a phrase or sentence. The sound is usually a consonant and the words don’t have to always be right next to one another.

How to find “just the right words”
Abundant writing resources are available in print as well as online. Listed below are the two resources I had readily available in the classroom for my students (Grades 4-8). Paperbacks are inexpensive enough to have multiple copies on hand, and in my opinion they are indispensable.

  • The Scholastic Rhyming Dictionary by Sue Young
  • Webster’s Thesaurus for Students by Merriam-Webster

                        Happy Writing & Reading Poetry…

                                   🎃HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

                     ~ Bette A. Stevens, Maine author/illustrator

This post is shared in loving memory of our amazing kitty, Miss Midnight. ~Bette A. Stevens

[Explore Bette’s Blog]

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MY MAINE, Haiku through the Seasons (Poetry & Photography Collection) by Bette A. Stevens. 150 haiku poems, 49 of the author’s original photographs + interesting facts and symbols from The Pine Tree State. 

My Maine…

Staycation in “Vacationland” (One of The Pine Tree State’s nicknames). No need to leave your comfy lounge chair. No matter the season, MY MAINE is a collection of poems and photographs to soothe the soul. Put up your feet, sit back and relax. Let MY MAINE take you away…

Did you know?

In the early 20th century, lumber, textiles and other industries began to leave the state, and the government doubled down on stimulating tourism. In the 1960s, the state adopted a new nickname on its license plates and highway signs: “Vacationland.”

Every year, thousands of visitors from all over the world flock to the Pine Tree State to enjoy scenic vistas, outdoor activities and the unhurried pace of life. But a visit to Maine is more than just lobsters and lighthouses. USA Today

MY MAINE

“A nature-filled land that enlivens the senses and soothes the soul—to me, Maine is poetry!”

~ Bette A. Stevens

 

Summer Songs

Excerpts from MY MAINE Haiku through the Seasons (Summer Songs) by Bette A. Stevens

Pristine forest lands
Rockbound footpaths appealing
Seek your solace here

Lady slippers chant
Madrigalian ballads
Timeless tales reborn

Moose shielding twin calves
Wades tranquil mountain waters
Head raised, ears twitching

Swallows consuming
Millions of swarming creatures
Ouch, ouch—they missed some

Loons at lakeshore wail
Campers bewitched by the sound
Sacred summer songs

Waves play taps on shore
Tall pines salute by moonlight
Waking stars stand guard

Lighthouses stand tall
Regaling stories of ghosts
From a bygone age

Books by Bette A. Stevens, Maine author

Hubby and I are enjoying a great “Staycation” right here at the farmstead. Confined by the 2020 pandemic restrictions, we’re playing it close to home and enjoying the magic of Maine moment by moment. Wishing everyone a blessed and beautiful end of summer and hope you’ve enjoyed a bit of a virtual Maine summer respite with us. ~Bette A. Stevens

[Visit Bette’s Blog]


Celebrating #Maine’s Bicentennial through Poetry

Maine officially celebrates its 200th Birthday on March 15, 2020! Find out more about “The Pine Tree State” and help us celebrate all year long with a haiku of your own. #WritingChallenge

Did you know?

Maine (nicknamed The Pine Tree State) remained a province of the Massachusetts Bay Colony when America declared its independence from Britain on July 4, 1776. At that time Maine was not one of America’s original thirteen colonies because it had never been granted a royal charter from Great Britain. It would be decades after the American Revolution and the signing of The Declaration of Independence (summarizing the colonists’ motivation for seeking independence) before Maine gained official statehood.

The Eastern white pine tree helped fuel the region’s economy in an era when shipbuilding and lumbering reigned supreme. The value of those pines actually provided a spark for the American Revolution. Massachusetts didn’t want to lose any of those pine profits it gained after the war, while Mainers struggled for political and economic independence. Maine officially celebrates its Bicentennial on March 15, 2020.

“A nature-filled land that enlivens the senses and soothes the soul—to me, Maine is poetry.”
–Bette A. Stevens

The Power of Poetry

How Readers & Writers of All Ages Benefit from Poetry

  • Improves Verbal Skills & Memory
  • Enhances Cognitive Function
  • Develops Empathy & Insight
  • Encourages Creativity

Why Haiku…

Inspired by the beauty and bounty of my home state, I write poetry in many forms; but I chose haiku for My Maine to offer readers a collection of story poems and photo snapshots of the unique land I know and love.

I invite you to join me as I celebrate #Maine2020 by submitting one of your favorite photos taken in “The Pine Tree State” and writing a haiku too! I’ll be publishing submissions here on my blog throughout 2020. Simply email me at bettestevens@tds.net SUBJECT: “Maine Bicentennial Haiku.”

How to Write Haiku…

 

 

A Peek Inside the Collection

~Excerpts from “Spring Awakenings”~

 

March shakes the remnants
Of sleep from wintery boughs
White confetti swirls

Granite boulders rise
Above the winter mantle
Midway the meltdown

Dark mask shrouds the land
Soaking downpour foreshadows
Season’s renewal

Rivers spill over
While ice jams—slowly melting
Weep upon their beds

Pot holes irk drivers
As roadways turn to washboards
Kids giggle in back

Hills and vales exult
Rivers and streams sing arias
Mud season arrives

Verdant shimmering
Emerald fields bursting forth
Souls rise from slumber

Sunbeams composing
Springtime melodies, humming
Tapping to the tunes

About the Author

Inspired by nature and human nature, author Bette A. Stevens is a retired elementary and middle school teacher, a wife, mother of two and grandmother of eight. Stevens lives in central Maine with her husband on their 37-acre farmstead where she enjoys reading, writing, gardening, walking and reveling in the beauty of nature. She advocates for children and families, for childhood literacy and for the conservation of monarch butterflies (milkweed is the only plant that monarch caterpillars will eat). Stevens has written articles for ECHOES, The Northern Maine Journal of Rural Culture. As of July 2019,  Stevens has self-published five books and has a second poetry collection on the drawing board. Find out more about the author and her books at https://www.amazon.com/author/betteastevens

 

Contact the author at DBS Publishing to order author-signed copies of her books or to schedule a Poetry Event tailored to meet the needs and interests of your school, community group, company or organization, or simply to find out more.

Thanks so much for stopping by today. I look forward to hearing from you. (Comment Section Below)

“Happy reading & writing poetry!” 

[Explore Bette’s Blog]


Happy Birthday Maine!

Did you know?

Maine (nicknamed The Pine Tree State) was initially a province of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. In fact, it was decades after the American Revolution before Maine gained official statehood. The Eastern white pine tree helped fuel the region’s economy in an era when shipbuilding and lumbering reigned supreme. The value of those pines actually provided a spark for the American Revolution. Massachusetts didn’t want to lose any of those pine profits it gained after the war, while Mainers struggled for political and economic independence. Maine officially celebrates its Bicentennial on March 15, 2020.

“A nature-filled land that enlivens the senses and soothes the soul—to me, Maine is poetry.”
–Bette A. Stevens

The Power of Poetry

How Readers & Writers of All Ages Benefit from Poetry

  • Improves Verbal Skills & Memory
  • Enhances Cognitive Function
  • Develops Empathy & Insight
  • Encourages Creativity

Why Haiku…

Inspired by the beauty and bounty of my home state, I write poetry in many forms; but I chose haiku for My Maine to offer readers a collection of story poems and photo snapshots of the unique land I know and love.

I invite you to join me as I celebrate #Maine2020 by submitting one of your favorite photos taken in “The Pine Tree State” and writing a haiku too! I’ll be publishing submissions here on my blog throughout 2020. Simply email me at bettestevens@tds.net SUBJECT: “Maine Bicentennial Haiku.”

How to Write Haiku…

 

 

A Peek Inside the Collection

~Excerpts from Winter Tales~

Frozen polar winds
Wave the ice crystal scepter
Dawn’s magic appears

Silvery branches
Unveil the old, old folktale
A spellbound story

Pine cones and tassels
Mirrored in moonlight upon
White weighted branches

Chickadees dozing
Nestling, captive to pine boughs
Till dawn sets them free

Shovels and snow plows
Storm’s rook ravings unraveled
Till the next arrives

Soups, stews and chowders
Stories told round the table
Favored winter fare

Silently—Snowfalls
Reign over field and forest
Supremely sovereign

Winter white gemstones
Glistening across meadows
Perfect snowshoe day

About the Author

Inspired by nature and human nature, author Bette A. Stevens is a retired elementary and middle school teacher, a wife, mother of two and grandmother of eight. Stevens lives in central Maine with her husband on their 37-acre farmstead where she enjoys reading, writing, gardening, walking and reveling in the beauty of nature. She advocates for children and families, for childhood literacy and for the conservation of monarch butterflies (milkweed is the only plant that monarch caterpillars will eat). Stevens has written articles for ECHOES, The Northern Maine Journal of Rural Culture. As of July 2019,  Stevens has self-published five books and has a second poetry collection on the drawing board. Find out more about the author and her books at https://www.amazon.com/author/betteastevens

 

Contact the author at DBS Publishing to order author-signed copies of her books or to schedule a Poetry Event tailored to meet the needs and interests of your school, community group, company or organization, or simply to find out more.

Thanks so much for stopping by today. I look forward to hearing from you. (Comment Section Below)

“Happy Reading & Writing Poetry!” 

[Explore Bette’s Blog]


BAS Author logo stamp 2015I am a writer inspired by nature and human nature.

I love people, nature, art, music and literature.

I advocate for kids and families, childhood literacy and for the protection of monarch butterflies and their threatened habitat in my books, my poetry and on my blog. My blog supports Indie and traditional authors, features great books and poetry and provides tips for writers and readers as well. Be sure to check out the tabs at the top of my blog and leave a comment or two. Thanks so much for stopping by for a visit. I look forward to chatting with you. — Bette A. Stevens

Brief Bio: Stevens is a retired elementary and middle school teacher, a wife, mother of two and grandmother of five. Stevens lives in Central Maine with her husband on their 37-acre farmstead where she enjoys writing, gardening, walking and reveling in the beauty of nature. She advocates for children and families, for childhood literacy and for the conservation of monarch butterflies—an endangered species (and milkweed, the only plant that monarch caterpillars will eat).

Stevens is the author of AMAZING MATILDA, an award-winning picture book; The Tangram Zoo and Word Puzzles Too!, a home/school resource incorporating hands-on math and writing; and PURE TRASH, the short story prequel to her début novel, DOG BONE SOUP, a Boomer’s coming of age novel. MY MAINE, inspired by The Pine Tree State —Maine’s diverse landscape, natural beauty, rural communities, and independent people—the author’s 150 haiku poems, along with her photographs, reflect the Maine she knows and loves.

BOOKS 5 by BAS 2019

 

BOOK BLURBS:

My Maine, Haiku through the Seasons takes readers on a poetic journey through the state’s four distinct seasons. Whether you’re a native Mainer or from away, Stevens’s short story poems and photographs will resonate.  The collection opens with Maine Pines and People. The journey continues with the rejuvenating spirit of Spring Awakenings and Summer Songs; then on to more of Maine’s extraordinary places and people in Autumn Leaves and Winter Tales. In addition to its poems and photographs, My Maine includes state symbols and interesting facts about The Pine Tree State.”

DOG BONE SOUP is not only a fabulous title for a novel, it’s also the staple diet of the young hero, Shawn Daniels . But it takes more than an impoverished family life, exacerbated by a drunken father, to keep our Shawn and his brothers and sisters down.” Survival, struggle and the human spirit rising above it all—a 1950s and ’60 coming of age adventure.

PURE TRASH is an emotional and soul-searching short story read. Compassion is a beautiful thing.” A single day—a lifetime of lessons.

Inspire the kids to follow their dreams with AMAZING MATILDA, an award-winning Monarch Butterfly picture book adventure! (ages 4-11).

CLICK, LOOK & LISTEN as author Pamela Beckford reads AMAZING MATILDA for United Way’s Childhood Literacy Program:

Encourage the kids (elementary and middle-graders) with THE TANGRAM ZOO & Word Puzzles Too!—a great resource for home or school. Puzzles, poetry, reading, research, writing and projects too!

 I would  love to hear from you (comments below).

  • Find out more about author Bette A. Stevens and take a  “Look inside” her books at YOUR AMAZON.

[Explore Bette’s Blog]

 


I’m delighted to host Balroop Singh—author, friend and poet—as she announces the release of her latest collection.  I started reading Magical Whispers last night… As I stroll through its pages, I’ll continue to reflect upon the beauty bound within each penning. Read more about the book and I think you’ll agree, this is a collection that you’ll want to add to your book shelf too! ~Bette A. Stevens https://www.4writersandreaders.com 

Book Blurb

I wait for whispers; they regale my muse. Whispers that can be heard by our heart, whispers that ride on the breeze to dispel darkness and ignite hope. I’m sure you would hear them through these poems if you read slowly.

‘Magical Whispers’ would transport you to an island of serenity; beseech you to tread softly on the velvety carpet of nature to feel the ethereal beauty around you. The jigsaw of life would melt and merge as you dive into the warmth of words.

In this book, my poems focus on whispers of Mother Nature, whispers that are subtle but speak louder than words and breathe a quiet message.

Each day reminds us
It’s the symphony of surroundings
That whisper life into us.

Book Information

Title: Magical Whispers

Author: Balroop Singh

Genre: Poetry

Available at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08KJQ6K5D


US
UK DE FR ES IT NL JP BR CA MX AU IN

Excerpt

The Last Whisper

I could never plan my life
It just flitted by
Before I could figure it out.

I had just a few desires
Though they kept multiplying
You fulfilled them with a smile.

I have just one more
The last one, I promise
I hope you would consider that.

I want a little cabin in the woods
A tree house with four windows
And a solarium with royal recliners.

Don’t forget to add your bar
One corner could be enough
For the best crystal we bought.

If we have a bridge that swings
I could spend the rest of my days
Reclining in that heavenly bliss.

© Balroop Singh

Meet the Author

Balroop Singh, a former teacher and an educator always had a passion for writing.  She is a poet, a creative non-fiction writer, a relaxed blogger and a doting grandma. She writes about people, emotions and relationships. Her poetry highlights the fact that happiness is not a destination but a chasm to bury agony, anguish, grief, distress and move on! No sea of solitude is so deep that it can drown us. Sometimes aspirations are trampled upon, the boulders of exploitation and discrimination may block your path but those who tread on undeterred are always successful.

When turbulences hit, when shadows of life darken, when they come like unseen robbers, with muffled exterior, when they threaten to shatter your dreams, it is better to break free rather than get sucked by the vortex of emotions.

A self-published author, she is the poet of Sublime Shadows of Life and  Emerging From Shadows, both widely acclaimed poetry books. She has also written When Success Eludes, Emotional Truths Of Relationships Read FREE with Kindle Unlimited and Allow Yourself to be a Better Person.

Balroop Singh has always lived through her heart. She is a great nature lover; she loves to watch birds flying home. The sunsets allure her with their varied hues that they lend to the sky. She can spend endless hours listening to the rustling leaves and the sound of waterfalls. The moonlight streaming through her garden, the flowers, the meadows, the butterflies cast a spell on her. She lives in San Ramon, California.

Find & Follow the author

Thanks so much for stopping by to meet Balroop Singh and enjoy a peek inside her new book—Magical Whispers. Balroop and I would love to hear from you. May all your days be filled with magic! ~ Bette A. Stevens

[Explore Bette’s Blog]


 

Hi, and welcome to the Rave Reviews Book Club’s 2020 BOOK, BLOG & TRAILER BLOCK PARTY at Watch Nonnie Write! 

Here’s What I’m Giving Away Today



Leave a comment & YOU COULD BE A WINNER!

  • One (1) $10 Amazon Gift Card
  • One (1) e-book copy of 🌲 MY MAINE, Haiku through the Seasons 🌲by Bette A. Stevens

# of Winners for this stop:  2 



Even with a world-wide pandemic raging, the blessings of 2020 abound…

It’s a Girl!

Thanks so much for stopping by my blog today. As a Maine writer and poet, I hope you enjoy taking a peek inside the state I know and love.  It’s a Girl! is a haiku poem about one of the many miracles—the bounty and beauty—that 2020 has brought to us at the farmstead this year. If you haven’t been to the U.S. state of Maine yet, I invite you to add a trip to The Pine Tree State to your wish list. No matter the date or the season, Maine’s miracles are sure to capture your heart and soul. In the meantime, I invite you to watch MY MAINE, Haiku through the Seasons book trailer later in this post to get a taste of what we Mainers are blessed with 365 days a year.  Maine, you’ll  see, is the way life should be!

As the new year began, I was sure it was going to be a year to remember—and it has proven to be just that.

My perspective has changed on so many things. Hubby Dan and I have been self-isolating since March 12. We order groceries online once a month then put on protective masks and gloves as we head out to pick packages up curbside in a town eight miles north. We only go out in public when we must—for things like medical appointments, and banking. This month we’ll pick up our absentee ballots at the town hall and return them in person to vote in the 2020 Presidential Election.

Here in Maine, our 37-acre farmstead has always been a haven. We grow and preserve a lot of our own food (vegetables and fruit), clean up fallen trees to use as supplemental heat in the wintertime, and spend a lot of time outdoors working, exploring and enjoying the beauty and bounty that the land has to offer.

 

Miracles abound… Discovering a fawn in the back field was just one of them.

Rolls (I’m making all my own breads and desserts these days) were baking in the oven when Dan burst through the back door and hollered, “Grab your camera and get out here!” He wouldn’t tell me what was up until we gingerly approached a stand of birches in the back field and he pointed down. There in the tall grass (which he had planned to mow that afternoon) lay a newborn fawn. She was beautiful. The moment I was back at the house, I discovered as much as I could about whitetail deer online. I read everything I could find and prepared to watch and wait for the little one to appear with her mom.

Did I say she? You bet!

I found out that the sex of a fawn can be discovered by the shape of the crown of its head. Round for girl, flat for boy. I expected her to be out and about with mama in early July and I walked the field and trails each day to discover as much as I could first hand. By early July, we discovered that she had a twin—they came out each day romping, stomping and entertaining us while mama cautiously watched them from a distance. It’s been a summer of laughter and fun with our two whitetails on the loose.  If it hadn’t been for self-isolating during the 2020 pandemic, I would have missed it all!

It’s been a great summer of discovery. Check out these  16 Things to Know about Whitetail Fawns https://www.outdoorlife.com/blogs/big-buck-zone/2013/05/fawn-facts/

 

CLICK Book Trailer  below TO TAKE A PEEK INSIDE...

 

Grab a copy of MY MAINE today! 

 

More of Bette’s Maine

Books by Bette A. Stevens, Maine authorThanks so much for stopping by to read about It’s a Girl and take a peek at MY MAINE, Haiku through the Seasons today! I would love to hear what you think. Your comment could make you one of today’s two Giveaway Winners!

~Bette A. Stevens


If you love fantasy fiction and enjoy descriptive writing at its best, D.W. (Diana Wallace) Peach is an author you won’t want to miss… If you’re like me and fantasy is not an auto-go-to genre for you, this is the perfect time to give it a try!  Diana, it’s wonderful to have you here today to give us a peek into the first book of your new series—Liars and Thieves (Unraveling the Veil series).  Diana’s writing is superlative!

Liars and Thieves (Fantasy Fiction) by D.W. Peach

 

 

Blurb

Behind the Veil, the hordes gather, eager to savage the world. But Kalann il Drakk, First of Chaos, is untroubled by the shimmering wall that holds his beasts at bay. For if he cannot cleanse the land of life, the races will do it for him. All he needs is a spark to light the fire.

Three unlikely allies stand in his way.

A misfit elf plagued by failure—

When Elanalue Windthorn abandons her soldiers to hunt a goblin, she strays into forbidden territory.

A changeling who betrays his home—

Talin Raska is a talented liar, thief, and spy. He makes a fatal mistake—he falls for his mark.

A halfbreed goblin with deadly secrets—

Naj’ar is a loner with a talent he doesn’t understand and cannot control, one that threatens all he holds dear.

When the spark of Chaos ignites, miners go missing. But they won’t be the last to vanish. As the cycles of blame whirl through the Borderland, old animosities flare, accusations break bonds, and war looms.

Three outcasts, thrust into an alliance by fate, by oaths, and the churning gears of calamity, must learn the truth. For they hold the future of their world in their hands.

Q & A

Why are changelings vegetarians?

In this series, changelings have the ability to transform into animals. Talin, one of my main characters, explains at one point that spending time as an animal has given him a greater respect for them. He’s personally experienced their lives: the freedom, the danger, instincts, and emotion. Changelings don’t see themselves as masters over animals, but as part of the vast diversity of creatures. In his own words, “There are consequences to shifting over time. You’ll see. After a while, you start understanding the beauty of animals in a new way, how they have a right to their lives as much as we.”

Liars and Thieves Book Trailer

Liars and Thieves Global Purchase Linkhttp://a-fwd.com/asin=B08FGQ2W3Q

 

Author Bio

Wallace Peach started writing later in life after the kids were grown and a move left her with hours to fill. Years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books, and when she started writing, she was instantly hooked. Diana lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two dogs, bats, owls, and the occasional family of coyotes.

Find D.W. Peach and her books

Dear Readers,

Thanks so much for stopping by to meet Diana and check out her latest book. I invite you to visit her Amazon book page and stock  up on some fabulous fantasy fiction from an author who knows how to keep readers turning the pages!

Happy Reading!

Bette A. Stevens

[Explore Bette’s Blog]


I’m delighted to have author Jacqui Murray with us today as she launches her new book—Against All Odds, Book 3 of the Crossroads series. The trilogy takes readers on a journey into prehistoric times where survival is never guaranteed. Xhosa’s extraordinary prehistoric saga concludes in this thriller you won’t want to miss! ~ Bette 

Book Summary

A million years of evolution made Xhosa tough but was it enough? She and her People finally reach their destination—a glorious land of tall grasses, few predators, and an abundance that seems limitless, but an enemy greater than any they have met so far threatens to end their dreams. If Xhosa can’t stop this one, she and her People must again flee.

The Crossroads trilogy is set 850,000 years ago, a time in prehistory when man populated most of Eurasia. He was a violent species, fully capable of addressing the many hardships that threatened his survival except for one: future man, a smarter version of himself, one destined to obliterate all those who came before.

From prehistoric fiction author Jacqui Murray comes the unforgettable saga of a courageous woman who questions assumptions, searches for truth, and does what she must despite daunting opposition. Read the final chapter of her search for freedom, safety, and a new home.

A perfect book for fans of Jean Auel and the Gears!

 

 

How did early man tell time?

Like today’s most primitive communities, early man didn’t care about hours or minutes. His metric was how much sunlight remained before he must find a safe place to sleep. Therefore, they indicated time in the future by pointing to a place in the sky where the sun would eventually reach. They might say, “Return by this point” and mean, “Return when Sun reaches this point in the sky.”

What are Others? And why capitalize it?

Others refers to all Homo species including Homo habilis, Homo erectus, and archaic Homo Sapiens. Capitalization indicates Xhosa’s respect for the individuals or their tribes. This is also true when animal species are capitalized such as Gazelle or Mammoth. If the characters refer to them in general terms, they aren’t capitalized.

Who are the “Hairy Ones” who Pan-do once shared a cave with?

These are Homo habilis, mostly extinct by this point in time. When you read Pan-do’s description of them, you’ll understand why.

Xhosa’s extraordinary prehistoric saga concludes, filled with hardship, courage, survival, and family.

Book information

Title and author: Against All Odds

Series: Book 3 in the Crossroads series

Genre: Prehistoric fiction

Available digitally (print soon) at: Kindle US   Kindle UK   Kindle CA   Kindle AU

About the Author

Jacqui Murray

Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy, the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers, and the Man vs. Nature saga. She is also adjunct professor of technology in education, blog webmaster, an Amazon Vine Voice,  a columnist for  NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Look for her next prehistoric fiction, Laws of Nature, Book 2 in the Dawn of Humanity trilogy, Winter 2021.

Find & Follow Jacqui Murray

Chapter 1

The foothills of the Pyrenees

They came out of the mountains, hair frozen in sparkling strands, hands and feet wrapped in shredded pelts, ribs etched against their skin under ragged hides white with snow, faces haggard with fatigue. Blood crusted scrapes and gashes, many recent, others almost healed, reminders of the violent struggles endured on their journey.

Though their steps flagged, not one of these upright creatures exhibited a hint of defeat. All males and a few females carried at least one spear, some two, many with warclubs strapped to their backs. Despite the anxiety and fear of entering this foreign land, hope energized them today, that their migration might be at an end.

All of them—Xhosa and her tribe, Pan-do and his, Wind, Zvi, and Seeker—had been chased from their homes by enemies. In their flight, they found each other. It took time to work through their differences but now they traveled side by side, respected ideas not theirs, and called themselves the People.

Their charismatic Leaders—Xhosa, Wind, and Pan-do—were known as reliable friends to those who earned their trust and dangerous enemies to those who opposed them. Two wolves—Spirit and Black Wolf—journeyed with them. Though the People lacked the animals’ sharp claws, dense fur, and piercing teeth, each considered the other “pack” and would defend them to death.

The exhausted group straggled down the gently sloping flank, feet shuffling carefully over the slippery scree. The ground changed from talus to stunted tufts of grass, sparse and brown which made walking easier. Optimism shone from their faces even as their tired eyes flicked side to side in search of unexpected movement, ears strained for out-of-place noises, and noses sniffed.

Rather than continue across the meadow, Xhosa led the People into the shade of the edging forest.

“Do you smell it, Wind?” Anticipation filled her gestures.

She and Wind, pairmates as well as Co-Leaders, stood quietly, absorbing their surroundings. Light filtered lazily through the canopy, the shadowed ground dappled with patches of warmth. She sniffed in the essence of wet earth and rotting leaves, the mustiness of moss, and something else much more enticing.

“It’s there.” She pointed and strode forward, lengthening her stride.

An icy gust whipped down the hillside through the shadows and raised bumps on her arms but she ignored it. The forest gave way to open sky and searing heat. It was too hot for her thin pelt but she didn’t stop to remove it. Green stalks swayed as far as she could see, edged on one side by more mountains and the other by some sort of leaves and branches. Sunlight glinted off the rippled surface of a distant river as it curled over the terrain.

“Dung!” The scent overpowered every other odor.

Wind huffed to her side. “It’s been a long time since we smelled dung that wasn’t frozen.”

“We did it, Wind.” Her eyes glistened with relief.

For most of a Moon, dread gnawed at her courage and left her wondering if following the guidance of Seeker—a boy barely a man—was a mistake. But Seeker assured her in his ebullient way that once out of the hills, their new homebase would welcome them. Xhosa wanted to believe him because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Nor did she know what to do if it didn’t work.

Wind motioned, arms inclusive, “It’s beautiful, Xhosa.”

Siri, Pan-do, Ngili, the wolves Spirit and Black Wolf, and the rest of the People gathered around Xhosa and Wind, eyes locked on what lay in front of them.

Pan-do whispered, “We made it.” His eyes were moist, mouth open.

Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, hands close to his body. “With all this grass, Gazelle or Mammoth must be nearby.”

Dust, the Lead Scout, trotted up, coming from a tall cliff far ahead on their forward path. “I think there are caves there.”

The People hadn’t slept in a cave since leaving Viper and the Mountain Dwellers. It would be a treat if true.

Xhosa looked behind. Shadows already stretched as far from the bottom of the rocky slopes as sunlight to the top. Daylight would soon end.

“We don’t have much time. Let’s rest and then see if those are caves.”

Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, fingers spaced out, palms up, “I’ll go with Dust to check.” He added a swift spread-fingered swipe with first one hand and then the other, followed by a quick bob of his head and a puff.

Xhosa brushed both hands down her sides. Go.

The People spoke with a complex combination of hand motions, facial expressions, body movements, and sounds augmented with chirrups, snaps, hisses, and whistles. By the time Ngili finished talking, Xhosa knew how many would join him, where they would go, and how long they’d be away. The People’s communication was sophisticated but quiet, a precaution especially in unfamiliar areas. Unusual sounds—voices, for example—stood out. All animals made noises but few as varied as the People’s. Why alert Others who lived here to their presence? Xhosa would do that in her own time, in her own way.

Dust, Ngili, and two scouts soon receded into the landscape, the only evidence of their passage a slight disturbance in the slender waving stalks. Despite the dung scents, the abundant plant food, and the glisten of a faraway river, Xhosa crossed her arms over her chest and paced.

Something is wrong.

She searched the forests and the rippling field that had swallowed up Dust and Ngili . Xhosa possessed the ability to see great distances in sufficient detail to find trails, footprints, movement, or the glitter of sun off eyes.

She saw none of those and that made her more uncomfortable.

With this wealth of food and water, Others should be here.

Wind motioned, palms flattened against his chest, “The mountains we crossed touched Sun. They’re cold and barren. Few can do what we did to get here, Xhosa. We are safe.”

Xhosa could hear in his voice, see in his gestures, that despite his bravado, Wind too felt uneasy about what they didn’t see and hear.

But she grinned. “I don’t know how I survived without someone being able to read my thoughts.”

She trotted over to a stream that fed into the river she had noticed. She stretched out on her belly, flat on the soft grass at the water’s edge, and took a long, satisfying drink of the sweet liquid. Thirst quenched, she collected handfuls of the tender shoots of new plants growing along the shore, ate what she wanted and tossed the rest into a communal food pile that would be shared with all the People. It was already filling up with fat fish speared from the slow-moving pools beside the river, tasty reeds and cattails, and even a handful of eggs plucked from nests not hidden well enough along the shore and in the roots of trees. The wolves snapped birds from the air and swallowed them almost whole, coughing up feathers.

Xhosa leaned back on her hands, sniffing the unique fragrance of each groupmember. Zvi was sweaty from wrestling with Spirit. Siri smelled sourly of hunger but she wouldn’t eat until Honey’s bleeding foot was wrapped in mulch and leaves. The females with new babies exuded the pleasant aroma of milk. Some scents jumbled together making them impossible to identify. When Xhosa became Leader of the People, before it merged with Pan-do’s and Hawk’s, the People had been small enough that she could recognize everyone by their odor. Now, she kept track of her tribe while Pan-do did the same with his. Wind helped everyone.

Done eating, the People sprawled on the warm ground, soaking up Sun’s remaining rays, chatting contentedly with gestures and the occasional sigh. Water dripped from their thawing bodies, soaking into the thirsty ground, as the remaining ice and snow on their pelts and in their hair melted away.

Xhosa and Wind sat apart from the others, on a log long ago softened by rot. She uprooted handfuls of grass and wiped the sweat from Wind’s body, as he did hers. The soft scratch felt good and the earthy fragrance reminded her of times long gone. When he finished, she harvested chunks of green moss from the log’s decaying bark and stuffed them into her neck sack. All the People wore one of these around their necks. Even the wolves did when they were migrating.

Finished, she leaned against Wind and closed her eyes. In a group of Others, her pairmate stood out. A Big Head, the People’s traditional enemy, the ones who drove Xhosa and her tribe from their long-established home, Wind had earned Xhosa’s trust by saving her life more than once and then, as a member of her People, sharing Big Head spear tricks and warrior skills with her Leads. Before long, each of them individually told her that thanks to Wind they could now defeat an attack which they couldn’t have done in the past. Whatever distrust her People harbored toward him faded away.

“Xhosa!” Dust panted up to her. “I found a cave. And we found trace of a herd. Ngili is tracking it.”

By the time Sun settled into its night nest, the People were ensconced in the cave Dust found. They had to squeeze together to fit but all were thrilled to sleep without waking to frozen toes and numb fingers. Stone and Zvi—the burliest of the People—lugged rocks in and Siri built a fire that quickly warmed the interior. The subadults gathered kindling to feed it and arranged who would be responsible throughout the night for keeping it lit.

Usually, the wolves slept scattered among the People but with Black Wolf close to delivering her pups, she dug out an opening in the back and claimed it as her den. Then she settled to her belly, one leg forward, the other bent back, eyebrows twitching.

Xhosa strode toward the nest she would share with Wind but stopped at the sight of Seeker, weight on his bottom, legs crossed in front of his body in the uncomfortable position he preferred. His pairmate Lyta curled next to him with their best friend, Zvi.

Xhosa approached Seeker. “You are not outside.”

Every night as long as Xhosa could remember, the enigmatic male lay on his back, gaze fixed steadily on the star-dotted sky, spouting what to Xhosa sounded like gibberish to whoever listened. Intermittently, he leapt to his feet and spun dizzying circles or bounced from one foot to the other, huffing and chirping. Lyta and Zvi would either join him or watch. He once explained to Xhosa that this was how he studied the changes in the night sky—the appearance and disappearance of particular stars or their movement in relation to each other—so he could guide the People accurately. This nightly process was how they had moved from the distant start of Endless Pond to this cave where Endless Pond seemed to end.

He didn’t respond to her statement, didn’t even acknowledge her. That worried Xhosa. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that danger lurked around them, somewhere. Seeker’s anxious look didn’t help.

She squatted at his side and added a question to her declaration. “The stars aren’t talking to you?”

To the side, Lyta wriggled, not comfortable in the seated position Seeker preferred but determined to try because Seeker liked it so much. Zvi crouched on the balls of her feet, the more traditional pose. She’d tried to sit on her bottom, legs crossed in front, but kept falling backward. Besides, it took her too long to rise from that position which meant if Lyta needed help, she couldn’t respond quickly. Squatting, for her, made more sense. Seeker didn’t care. He expected all to do what worked for them. Both his best friend and his future pairmate were long accustomed to his eccentricities.

Finally, Seeker offered Xhosa only a confused frown.

That’s not a “Yes they are,” and that raised the hair on her neck. Before she could ask more, Ngili scrambled through the thistle barrier the youngsters had placed around the cave’s mouth to prevent the entrance of intruders and hurried toward Xhosa.

He motioned, “I lost the herd’s trace in the dark. I’ll try again tomorrow,” and then raced toward where the hunters had gathered. They were all tired. Some would mate before sleeping but not Ngili. He hadn’t given up hope that his pairmate, Hecate, would come back.

After a final glance at Seeker, Xhosa joined Wind in their nest. She squatted behind him and teased the dirt and debris from his long head hair, occasionally focusing on a difficult tangle until her fingers could move easily through his hair. When she finished, he did the same for her.

As he groomed, he said, “I’ll join Ngili tomorrow. If there are herds, we will find them.”

“Pan-do and I will continue with the People.”

They said nothing more, both enjoying the calming feel of nails scratching on their skin and the intimacy of someone they trusted implicitly. Done, both fell asleep.

The first rays of daylight filtered into the cave. Black Wolf was already outside, padding back and forth restlessly, huffing uncomfortably. Wind left with Ngili and a handful of scouts, knowing Xhosa would leave a trail to wherever they settled when Sun’s light ran out. Though Spirit usually went with the hunters, today he stayed with Black Wolf.

Xhosa and Pan-do led. Dust copied their pace and direction but a distance away. With Ngili and Wind searching for meat, Xhosa focused on finding a cave large enough for the People. They strode onward, gaze sweeping the landscape, everyone grazing on berries, roots, and worms as they walked. Sporadically, Xhosa heard a faraway squawk or glimpsed a covey of birds as they exploded into flight, fleeing an unknown threat. It was the direction Ngili and Wind had gone, and told her how far they’d gotten.

The People rested by a waterhole. They searched its shoreline for prints but found none. Wherever the herds lived, they didn’t drink here so the People moved on, through copses of young saplings and around a bed of haphazardly-strewn boulders. The air tasted of flowers, warm earth, and the mild tang of salt, but the dung they found was hard and old.

Xhosa touched Pan-do’s hand and both stopped, eyes forward. “Do you smell that? It reminds me of Endless Pond.”

He pointed to his strong side and the direction they were walking. “From there and there. How can it be on two sides?”

Xhosa tingled. One of her People—Rainbow—had abandoned them long ago, taking many males and females with him. Others she and her People ran into while migrating here told her Rainbow traveled the same route she did but along the opposite shore of Endless Pond. For him, as for her, this was as far as he could go without folding back on himself.

If they got this far. If any survived.

She pushed aside those thoughts. Before searching for whatever remnants remained of Rainbow’s group, the People must find a homebase. All they suffered to get here—the interminable walking, the loss of Hawk, the death of groupmembers, Nightshade’s treachery—was for naught if they didn’t establish a home.

Spirit bumped her leg. Black Wolf panted at her mate’s side, her belly almost touching the ground.

Xhosa motioned, “Your mate’s pups won’t wait much longer. We will find a den for her.”

Spirit took off, his movements graceful and fluid with Black Wolf lumbering after him.

Not much later, Pan-do squinted ahead. “I think Spirit found a cave.”

Xhosa leaned forward, narrowing her gaze, and finally saw where Spirit stopped. He sat on his haunches at the base of a cliff, facing her, nose twitching, tail swishing the dirt behind him.

It took the rest of the day to cross over the craggy scrubland, up and down the deep ravines, and around the occasional spot of slippery ice. The cave proved too small for the People but not for Black Wolf’s needs. With much scuffling and panting, she created a nest for her pups and disappeared into the cool dark hole. The People settled outside, under an overhang that would protect them from rain and predators, and far enough away to not bother the new mother. As soon as Ngili and Wind arrived, shaking their heads that they hadn’t found a herd, they left again to search for signs of a trail left by former inhabitants of this cave.

Xhosa’s chest squeezed and her stomach knotted. Spirit padded up to her side, hackles puffed, nostrils flaring. He agreed. Something about this area made her tingle but for now, until Black Wolf finished, they must stay.

Wow! A great excerpt from Against All Odds, Book 3 of Jacqui Murray’s fascinating and well-researched “Crossroads trilogy.” I’ve recently finished Book 1,  Survival of the Fittest, and can’t wait to follow the rest of Xhosa’s extraordinary journey in Book 2 and Book 3. If you haven’t started the trilogy yet, I invite you to download the series. Here’s a blurb from my recent review of Survival of the Fittest—“As the first book in Jacqui Murray’s Crossroad trilogy, this believable story of the existential struggle of early humans for survival has me hooked! Highly recommended.”  ~Bette A. Stevens

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Lot’s of fun for everyone! You’ll find me at the #RRBC Writers Conference & Book Fair 2020 all week… Books, authors, workshops, games (like BINGO), raffles, giveaways and so much more. Hope to see you there! ~Bette A. Stevens

Dawn Delivers

Do you like to write? Or read? Do you love books? Do you enjoy the tales crafted by talented authors?

Do you want to find a place where all of these things come together in an online conference where you can enjoy everything that writers have to offer?

If the answer to any of those questions is yes then you are in luck! Today sees the launch of the 5th Annual #RRBC Writers Conference & Book Expo; where you can meet authors, and discover new books. A place where you can find tips on everything from coming up with the first seeds of a story idea to promoting your finished novel, and every step in between.

So why not stop by? There is something to appeal to everyone.

https://rrbcwritersconferencebookexpo20.wordpress.com/

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Welcome to the Day 5 of this amazing tour that’s showing appreciation for those bloggers who regularly and excitedly hosts the tours of 4WillsPublishing Clients!

I’m delighted to host author Joy Nwosu Lo-Bamijoko on my blog today.

I hope that you will take the time to support this author by following her social media and especially by picking up a copy of her book, if you don’t have it already—and, if you have it already, purchase it as a gift to share with someone you love or someone you like a lot!

There’s a giveaway for this tour and for your chance to win, all you have to do is leave a comment below! ~Bette A. Stevens

Welcome, Joy! 

 

CLICK THIS LINK To take a look inside the book and grab a copy today!

Book Blurb

Grandma is becoming a bit forgetful. She hides things in places she believes she will be able to find them when she needs them, but then, she forgets where the hiding places are. She forgets her car keys and a host of other things. What will Grandma forget next?

This fun little book will have children 3-6 yrs. of age entertained by the antics of Grandma.

About the Author


Joy has published extensively on national and international scholarly journals, magazines, and newspapers. Amongst her works are: Mirror of Our Lives: Voices of Four Igbo Women, Legend of the Walking Dead: Igbo Mythologies, Pregnant Future, and counting.

Follow the Author

 

TOUR PROMO TRAILER

 
 
Thank you for dropping in to support this author today along the 4WillsPub “THANK YOU, HOSTS” Blog Tour!  To follow along with the rest of the tour as we show appreciation of these bloggers for all their support in supporting our books, please visit the main tour page for this event! There’s another book and author on tour today, so do get by to support them, as well!  Remember, you could win a (5) Day Blog Tour of your own to promote any of your books by simply leaving a comment below!  

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PURE TRASH (Literary Fiction/ages 11-adult) by Bette A. Stevens—ONLY 99¢/£ for a limited time at Amazon.com & Amazon.uk   http://amzn.to/1T5tMAZ — is a short story about bullies and what it’s like to be bullied. It may redefine your concept of bullying. If you grew up as a child who was thought of as different in some way, you know what bullying is about: torment, persecution, intimidation, to name a few of its descriptors. For Shawn and Willie, their difference was based upon the social standing of the dysfunctional family, the alcoholism and abject poverty in which they grew up.

This short story set in the 1950s offers readers and book clubs insight into poverty and prejudice in rural New England during a time in history when many families were living the American Dream.

Take a peek inside and Grab a copy of PURE TRASH today! http://amzn.to/1T5tMAZ 

 

 

Hop on your bike and tag along with Shawn and Willie Daniels for the ride…

EXCERPT

Pedaling up the half-mile hill was a lot of work, but it was worth it, and not for just the empties. Flying down the other side gave me the best feeling in the whole wide world. I guess that’s how that old chicken hawk feels when he soars above the pines at the edge of the field out back of the house.

Once we reached the peak, we plopped our bikes on the ground and threw ourselves onto the soft, damp bed of leaves at the edge of the woods. It was so peaceful. My mind wandered into the sky and I dreamed about the ride down the other side and the 10 cent Orange Crush I’d buy at Stark’s General Store.

“Hey, Willie,” I finally asked, “did ya bring the slingshot?”

“Sure did, Shawn. Whatcha wanna shoot today?”

Willie’s brown eyes looked as big as Mum’s pan fried donuts and his smile pretty nearly filled his round face as he jumped right up from his leafy bed and hovered over me like a bear.

I helped Willie make that slingshot out of rubber bands I’d sliced from one of the old inner tubes piled out by Dad’s rusty Ford Roadster. That Ford had headlights on top of the fenders and the “old jalopy,” as Mum called it, was just rottin’ away out back of the two-holer. We broke a crotched limb out of the choke cherry bush to use for the handle. I tied the rubber band and the handle together with string from one of the flowered chicken feed sacks that Mum used to make her house dresses. That string was real strong and I was good at tying knots. Willie was proud as a peacock when it came to showing off that slingshot.

“How about we find some old tin cans and pile them up like a tower?” I asked Willie. “Better yet, let’s both make towers and see whose gets knocked down first.”

“Yes, siree!” Willie hooted as he made a mad dash to grab as many of the rusty cans as his chubby arms could hug together at one time.

 

  • Join Shawn and Willie for a 1950s Saturday adventure—Download PURE TRASH for ONLY 99¢/£ through JULY 4th!

This short story is a prequel to Stevens’s novel DOG BONE SOUP.

 

Reviews

“A great book for young adults, parents, guardians, mentors, and educators to read. Strongly recommended!” Yoong

“A nostalgic gem – I was swept away from the first paragraph and thoroughly enjoyed this skillfully written short story. This author knows how to paint mind-pictures and flavor them with taste, smell, and sound.”  WJ Scott, Children’s Author, Fairy Dust.

“Pure Trash is unlike any story I’ve read. At first, it reads like a memoir from Reminisce Magazine, but as the story unfolds, I connected with the characters at a deep level. The author explores prejudice, class division, alcoholism, poverty, injustice, and bullying. It’s a story all audiences over the age of ten can enjoy. While reading this story, the reader will experience the joy of a carefree Saturday and the blistering pain of feeling not quite good enough.” Tricia Drammeh, AuthorsToWatch

Take a Look Inside at your Amazon to read more of the 77 reviews.
  • Download PURE TRASH for ONLY 99¢/£ today!
  • Also available on MATCHBOOK: Purchase the paperback from Amazon for only $5.49 any time and download the eBook version for #FREE any time.

About the Author

Inspired by nature and human nature, award-winning Maine author Bette A. Stevens is a retired elementary and middle school teacher. Stevens is the author of AMAZING MATILDA, an award-winning picture book about the lessons learned by a monarch butterfly as she metamorphoses ; The Tangram Zoo and Word Puzzles Too!, a home/school resource  incorporating hands-on math and writing; and PURE TRASH, the short story prequel to her debut novel, DOG BONE SOUP, a baby boomer’s coming of age story. MY MAINE, Haiku through the Seasons—Stevens’s first poetry and photography collection—takes readers on an unforgettable journey through The Pine Tree State’s four glorious seasons.

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