The Lovers novel excerpt

White Eagle, the sage healer in my novel, teaches Nadine, our main character, how to heal her past.  He teaches her how to forgive, love and energize herself on the sacred Indian land of Sedona.

Here is an excerpt from the novel, The Lovers:

Nadine looked around as White Eagle parked the jeep.  Not a leaf stirred on the trees and bushes.  As they climbed the hill towards their destination, Nadine was aware of her every step on the red earth.  Her sensitivity seemed heightened here—an awareness came to her in the silence.

“These are ancient burial grounds,” explained White Eagle.  This journey opens your third eye, where there is no time boundary.  You can slip into the past, see your karmic destiny.  You can draw strength from the sacred land."

Nadine wasn’t sure what White Eagle meant but was eager to find out.  At last her life seemed to be moving in the right direction.

“Sedona has a long history," explained White Eagle. "Archeologists have proven that Sedona was discovered centuries before Columbus.  Sedona and the Verde Valley have plentiful ruins and petroglyphs. The Anasazi—Navajo word meaning ancient ones—fished in Oak Creek waters, farmed the land and hunted in the woods.  In prehistoric times Sedona was a ceremonial meeting area and a major crossroads for trading routes from the north and from South America. They came hunting for gold. There are signs of ancient cultures in the woods and canyons, and just imagine, Nadine, you are walking on the same pathways." 

White Eagle moved closer to Nadine. "The mysteries of life are revealed if you become still and quiet inside, and listen to the messages...the messages of the wind, the earth, the sun and the moon.”

The Lovers

The Lovers is  a story of modern love and karmic connections,where the vortexes connect soul mates and change destinies forever.  The novel begins in Newport Beach, Ca and continues to the magical town of Sedona.

Back in the real world where I reside in Phoenix, this blog discusses matters relating to love and writing. 

Never forget what it is like to be loved….

If you are in a toxic relationship, get out of it, right away. It doesn't get better, ever. Even if you think you love him, he loves you, the violence will only escalate. You can never please a narcissist, he will find any excuse to unleash his anger on you.

Now take a moment to remember true love. It can be as simple as your teacher in junior high, who believed in you, and showed you your greatness. It may have been a friend, a parent, or grandparent, or a brief love.

Take a deep breath and focus on that feeling. Wasn't it wonderful? It is a moment of recognition, self-understanding, and wholeness.

You are whole, no matter what the external relationships and circumstances are. You can return to self, just in a moment, one breath. The love is you, inside of you, and can never leave. All you do is be yourself, and that beautiful mirror will attract love.

How to be happily single

How can you cope with being single, and even enjoy it? Is it possible to go through your day to day life without a partner and be happy?

 

I know people that would rather die than be single – they jump directly from one relationship into another, without a breath or second thought.  One friend, tired of her present relationship started seeking a new partner before she left the old one, just to avoid being alone.

l live in suburbia, where the majority of people are couples. On my street I am almost the status of a leper, a social outcast for being single. Women send their husbands indoors when single women come over to say hello.  Really, this happens.  I find it funny that long time married women have to concern themselves that their husbands will wander from their marriage some twenty or thirty years, or even fifty years later.

Yes, there are down sides to being single.  You sleep alone (some may consider this a benefit!), you get left out of lunches, dances, and other social events, especially at holidays.  People in your life seem to forget you.

You get lonely sometimes being single and wonder if you have to do therapy—that there is something so terribly wrong with you, you cannot find a decent date.  You lower your standards, and it only gets worse.

You try online dating, and again, it seems that all your friends have met partners easily online.  But for some reason you only attract losers. 

Meeting someone you will love is a process, even though it seems when you meet the right person it happens instantly.  There is an ebb and flow in life, and sometime you may find yourself alone-divorced, widowed, abandoned. 

Forcing yourself to be happy and or starting a relationship just to be in love with love is self-defeating. You will end up unhappier than before.  And the grass is not necessarily greener on the other side of the street.  Being married has its own set of issues and problems.  The key is to be happy in whatever situation you find yourself presently in.

Here are some steps to being happily single:

1.  Look for love in all the wrong places.  It is a cliché, but true.  If you open your eyes you will find that there is love and kindness in your day all day long.  A checker in the grocery store may be especially nice, complimentary, or notice how you are.  You may meet an old friend and chat it up, or start a conversation with a stranger that feels magical.  Your nail tech gives you an especially nice foot massage, or you meet new people in yoga, woodworking, or a dance class that reach out to you.  

We average contact with about 250 people each day in lives.  Seems unbelievable, but once you pay attention, you will see how many people you do come across daily, even if you do not speak to all of them.

A corollary:  if you are not meeting people you like, try doing the opposite of what you normally do daily.  Try a new restaurant, route, library, park, etc.

2. Take time to relax, travel, pamper yourself.  The ebb is an opportunity to do what you want, when you want, how you want.  The husband/wife that you kept you from doing what you wanted is no longer there.  You can buy yourself those expensive shoes, and even buy yourself flowers.  Why wait for someone else to take you to a nice lunch or dinner, take yourself on that date. 

3. Be happy with yourself.  This is a no brainer, but hard to do.  Self-acceptance will free you to be yourself and you will project out a beautiful energy that naturally attracts others.

4. Live in the moment. This is the most important step of all.  Living moment to moment helps you see that your life is really great, even while you are single.  When you are not thinking or worrying about the past, or the future, then great joy is yours, right here and right now.  And don't be surprised if you create a life others will be envious of.  

The Lovers book excerpt

“Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along."

Rumi

PROLOGUE

Hot, balmy, and tropical. Thick palm trees lined the streets. I first saw him walking along the ocean, his favorite place to be. He said it soothed his soul. The soft blondness of his hair fell around his hollow cheekbones so that it was only his eyes that one noticed. One could see both the passion of the man and the sadness of the little boy within. It was the mirror of unrest I saw in his eyes that drew me to him. That feeling of separation, which woke me in the darkness of night, that black hour in which no one could assuage my fears. Perhaps I was not alone in my aloneness.

His face was rather odd, both conventional and exotic. He had a suave, cool presence, with impenetrable gray-blue eyes that questioned all he saw and felt, how the universe worked, and what his role was in this vast plan. To him there were no coincidences. Somewhere in his subconscious mind he wanted to believe that we were fated, fated to a love that was beyond his power. He would keep track of all the times we met coincidentally.

It was the night after the great rains had subsided that we began our relationship. We were walking seaside in the dusk of the evening, the clouds still dark from their heavy outpour when we noticed the waves. In slow rolling motion from one end of the pier to the other, like dancers in a sequence, the waves came in, one after another, a brilliant, fluorescent green. He believed the phosphorous waves were surely a sign illuminating the fate of our destiny, to be together. The universe was the mirror of our souls.

The Lovers

Go on an adventure in my book The Lovers. Find out if Nadine marries her financial successful fiancé, or if she runs away with her devastatingly gorgeous mentor, White Eagle.

(Nadine)"She sat listening to the earthy tones of the flute. The long, sorrowful notes were familiar, as if she had experienced this moment before. Perhaps there was more to this life than she had imagined. Maybe there was a deeper, more divine purpose for her life."

https://www.createspace.com/4243434

Unlocking your creative potential: how to write a book

Do you want to write the great American novel? Use right brain techniques to make your dream of writing a book a reality.

I am frequently asked how long it took to write The Lovers.  Actually I wrote it quite quickly, it seemed to write itself.  I believe I am asked that question because writers need some courage to get their novel started.

Inside each of us is a story waiting to be told. Imagine writing a full length novel in six months to a year:  that summer romance in Hawaii can be the basis of a romance novel; your Grandfather’s historic arrival to America from Greece is the plot of an adventure or action thriller.  How about completing a movie script or a television pilot in the next few months?

The dream of writing a book runs through our minds, and yet as time passes the words of our book never reach the paper. How do masterful writers get their chapters written? It seems an impossible task, yet a book can be written easily through simple right brain techniques.

The right side of a brain governs the creative and intuitive functions.  It conceptualizes and sees patterns as a whole, rather than the left side which breaks down ideas into parts and abstracts information from the whole.

So, let your logical mind take a short vacation and utilize your intuitive mind to write that novel for you.

Try these simple exercises to get you started:

1.  Write out at least 10 titles of your new book.

2.  Sit in a cafe or mall and write out character sketches of the people around you.

3.  Put on some fast paced music in the background, preferably without lyrics.

Start your novel by writing a few words. Take a deep breath and keep going, don't look back, down or elsewhere.  Keep going, write another sentence, and then stretch it into a paragraph.

Put it away.  Don't read it.

The next day write for 15 minutes.  Start on a character you want to meet.  Create him or her.  Let your mind be free.  Keep going, and then put it away.  Don't reread it, no looking back.

You just continue writing, day by day.  Notice how you feel. Are you experience pleasure, a little euphoria? Pretty soon you can't wait to get to the notebook, or the computer.  Your character has friends, and they are involved in action, adventure, drama.  Your characters seem to have a mind of their own, and pretty soon you have to give them the lead--let them do what they want to do.

In a week you have several pages, and you can't wait to write--the words flow out.  Now you can start rereading, but save editing and making changes until later. 

Writing a book is often like a love affair, it is passionate. You become consumed in the writing, and soon there is no separation between you and the writing--like the expert dancer and the dance. The writing is not forced, but a joy. What you are meant to be...you are now.  A writer.  

Book excerpt from The Lovers

“Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.  They're in each other all along."

Rumi

PROLOGUE

Hot, balmy, and tropical.  Thick palm trees lined the streets.  I first saw him walking along the ocean, his favorite place to be.  He said it soothed his soul.  The soft blondness of his hair fell around his hollow cheekbones so that it was only his eyes that one noticed.  One could see both the passion of the man and the sadness of the little boy within.  It was the mirror of unrest I saw in his eyes that drew me to him.  That feeling of separation, which woke me in the darkness of night, that black hour in which no one could assuage my fears.  Perhaps I was not alone in my aloneness.

His face was rather odd, both conventional and exotic.  He had a suave, cool presence, with impenetrable gray-blue eyes that questioned all he saw and felt, how the universe worked, and what his role was in this vast plan.  To him there were no coincidences. Somewhere in his subconscious mind he wanted to believe that we were fated, fated to a love that was beyond his power.  He would keep track of all the times we met coincidentally.

It was the night after the great rains had subsided that we began our relationship.  We were walking seaside in the dusk of the evening, the clouds still dark from their heavy outpour when we noticed the waves.  In slow rolling motion from one end of the pier to the other, like dancers in a sequence, the waves came in, one after another, a brilliant, fluorescent green.  He believed the phosphorous waves were surely a sign illuminating the fate of our destiny, to be together.  The universe was the mirror of our souls.

Is fiction real?

 Ernest Hemingway

Often I am asked by readers of my novel if the book is based on my life...is it true? 

A book comes from the author's mind, imagination, and most of all spirit.  Scenes are real in the mind of the author so in that way you can say it is true, or autobiographical.

But I think that the test of a good read, a nice work of fiction, is that it seems real.  The locations, with their vibrant scenes and sounds and smells become vivid, and the characters resonate with the reader, they may know someone like the character.  Sometimes characters are just the opposite of who we are, both readers and writers, and then they live out their adventures and fears and dreams in the novel while we watch vicariously.  We may be amused by them, or feel an emotion towards them, like love or hate.

So this does not mean that the characters and situations are real, but that the author has done his job, that is, he/she has told his truth.  When you write from the heart, the novel rings of truth. 

The Lovers - Chapter 1

Meet Bill, an ex Chicago cop who relocates in Newport Beach, CA.

One - Bill

Newport Beach was nothing like Chicago, thought Bill. The ocean and its people were becoming his passion. No mistaking the painstaking efforts of the people to look good, really, really good—the women knocked ‘em dead.  Bill was restless as he walked seaside, breathing in the fresh, salty sea air.  He glanced at the legs coming down the boardwalk, legs that looked smooth all the way up.  Dashing by on rollerblades, denim shorts, revealed oh so tight buns.  Sisters, busting out of twin bikini tops, on closer inspection were mother and daughter.  A solitary woman, in a soft cotton dress with no underwear, no adornments, just the curves, smiled as she passed.  This was the way women were supposed to be.  Jesus, one day he’d be lucky enough to be with one of these babes, it was due to him. He had worked out every day, let go of the fats, his waist, and the memory of Bette, his ex-wife.  At forty, life could begin again.

He pushed the hair back from his eyes and picked up his pace. The waves broke along the ocean, lit by the luminescence of the early evening moon.  They broke in a steady rhythm, a string of pearls along the sea as the moon revealed itself through the clouds. No matter how fast he went he could not shut out the pain of his past. It echoed in his soul, and in his walk.

Two years ago, the injury that had forced him to quit the force, brought him out to California.  His boss and good friend, John, had shoved him on a plane.  They were sick of him, as much as he was sick of not working.  How he longed for the work again, the adrenalin pumping, squashing the criminals—giving them their due.  He hated the drug kings—starting the young kids at ten on the stuff.  He could still see the face of the kid—mouth open, gasping for air, air that was no longer coming as the doctor and nurses were fighting for a pulse.  He had to stop going to the hospital with the victims.  It made him too angry, with nowhere to vent his emotion.  Emotion he was not supposed to have. It was on the playground at Evans Elementary that he had almost bled to death fighting Mark Ross, the fucking asshole who took the lives of children.

Bill headed towards the steep hill between the piers to reach the beach.  Holding his leg to still his limp, he descended the road to the beach.  He wanted to get closer to the shore. The water was very warm, even this late in the year, due to an offshore hurricane in Mexico.  Ahead, in the distance, Bill thought he spotted someone drowning.  His acute vision could not make out if it was a child or an adult as the waves washed over the body.  In a split second, holding his injured leg, he raced to the water’s edge, waiting for the tide to reveal the body.  Instead, a baby dolphin lay on its back, flaying its tail, gasping for air.

He was at a loss.  Nothing in his police training had prepared him for this.  Not even his CPR classes.  Bill knew that the dolphin was struggling and didn’t have much time to live. He looked around for help.  There was one middle-aged man nearby.

“Hey you,” he shouted.  “I need your help, come quickly.”

The man instantly came to his side.  “Tell me what to do.”

“Straddle her with all your strength, and hold on to her fins gently,” he commanded.  “I’m going to find out why she can’t breathe properly.”

Bill inhaled deeply, and in one quick motion opened the dolphin's mouth.  He put his right hand gently in and felt around. Nothing.  The dolphin was desperately gasping for air.  Bill moved his hand deeper in the mouth.  Nothing.

“Shit!  Something is obstructing its breathing.  I can’t find it.”

He released and closed the animal’s jaw, gently stroking its head.  “It’s going to be okay...I’ll save you,” he whispered.

A crowd had gathered, but Bill kept his focus.  It was something he had learned in his fifteen years on the force, what kept him alive.  “I’m going to open her mouth again,” he said to his new partner.  “On the count of three hold her very still.  I’m going to have to go in deeper to find out what’s wrong.” He was thinking that not unlike a baby he rescued that had turned blue, perhaps the animal had an object stuck in its throat.

“One...two...three!”  Bill opened her jaw, dug around and felt a plastic obstruction lodged in the  throat.  Placing thumb and forefinger around it, he pulled it out—it was the remnant of a child’s red balloon. 

Instantly the dolphin sprayed water through its snout.  It was breathing again.  Bill looked over at the crowd and called out, “Come help me push her back to sea,” to two young muscular men.  The four of them easily pushed the dolphin past the shore, into the waves of the deeper waters, where the dolphin rewarded the crowd with a series of melodic sounds as it leaped through the water, heading towards the horizon.

The audience, captivated by the rescue, clapped, cheered, and howled.  About thirty people had gathered to watch the rescue.  The clouds created shadows on their faces; their eyes, noses, and mouths blended together as one.  Bill wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve, ignoring the praise of the crowd. The pain of his past had deadened him somewhere inside that he could not reach.  He turned away from the crowd as the clouds gave way to the light of the moon.  In the distance he saw the silhouette of a lovely woman.  She walked alone, away from the crowd.  The waves rolled gently in, covering her feet with a white foam as she strolled by.

She was perfect, with almond shaped iridescent eyes that glanced at him for a moment, or was it the reflection of the moon?  Her movements were graceful, a lithe creature of the night that disappeared into the shadows.

It was a whole new world here in Newport and Bill did not know where to start.  He was blowing his pension, but it fought the depression.  At forty and single he felt alone in the world.  As he passed a newsstand he fought the urge for a cigarette.  No more.  If he was going to live in this plastic world of beauty, he wanted to look good, too.  He grabbed the handle of his bag tighter and quickened his pace to the gym.  A lovely young brunette stared at his biceps as he walked by, seemingly entranced by the smoothness and strength of his arms.  Perhaps there was hope, after all.

Bill entered the cool lobby of the gym on Balboa Island, a few blocks away from the beach. The entrance was crowded this time of day with ladies. Ladies with the biggest boobs he had ever seen.  Even the older ones.  Ladies, oh they weren’t supposed to be called that.  Jesus, this women’s revolution wasn’t for him.  Men were supposed to be men, and women, women.  He longed for a woman that made him feel good, again, understood what was in his heart.

“Hey, Jack,” he called out to the desk clerk.

“What’s doing?” replied Jack.

He took his card and went to the locker room to change.  He smoothed his blond wavy hair as he went by the mirror. He hummed a little tune, from the 70’s disco era, from Saturday Night Fever,

Then I get night fever, night fever.

Not too bad, Bill thought, as he took a survey of his body.  Strong, muscular calves, from years of bike riding, defined his legs.   He flexed his smooth, steel biceps that ­­­the ladies loved.  Yes, he knew that. Bill didn’t need steroids to build him up.  Glancing at his waist, he knew that he needed work, there.  Oh, shit.  That’s the price one paid for being single. As he climbed the stairs, Bill felt the dull and constant pain in his left leg.  He limped slightly and looked around to see if anyone noticed it.

He began his workout for the upper body, shoulders, and back.  While lifting and questioning the purpose of his life, Bill noticed a woman across the room. She was a cut above, he could feel it in his gut.  His instinct reflected his emotions.  Her eyes were intense, bright, showing the inner light of her being.    A full, lush mouth accented with bright red lipstick matched her nails. Blood red.  Long, very long strawberry blonde curly hair, the kind that you couldn’t control.  The kind of hair his ex had tried to get in the salon, but came out looking fried instead. At first it looked as if she were naked.  Her boobs were high, not as high as the silicone ones he saw in the movies, these fine works of art moved ceremoniously as she inhaled to do her exercises.  She bent over to pick up her weights and Bill held his breath, adjusting his shorts. No—he was not going to do this again. Maybe it was not emotion he felt for her.   He was not going to be roped in just by the looks.  These were always the women who were trouble; they were too good for everybody, including themselves. But he could not take his eyes off of her.  He wiped the sweat off his face and continued on to the treadmill.  He set the timer for forty-five minutes, and at level eight with an incline.  He was off and running, toweling the sweat, watching the news, and watching the outstanding redhead.

To find out more and order The Lovers:
https://www.amazon.com/Lovers-Jennifer-Marshall/dp/1484104528