Welcome, Tina. Thanks for joining me here on my blog and sharing some of your thoughts with us.
First, my readers might like to know why you write. Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction?
I
love to tell stories. As a girl I used to get in trouble for telling stories, so
writing gives me an outlet to use my imagination. I prefer fiction, of
course.
When did you begin to write?
I started writing in elementary school.
How did you get your first
break as a writer?
Actually, Desert Breeze gave me my first real break
two years ago. I turned in a three stories and Gail chose two.
So here I am. And I appreciate it immensely. I had tried to self publish and
that didn't pan out like I hoped.
How much time to you spend in
preparation? In actual writing? In editing?
The
time I spend in preparation depends on the book, and whether I need to
research, but usually, I start my book and write through it, researching as I
go. Actual writing time, could take a few months or a year or more. Editing…
can I just say ugh? But it has to be done. That can take a few weeks or longer.
Who is your best critic?
I
don't know that I have a best critic. I know I'm my worst one.
What is your writing space
like?
I have an office, but a lot of times I sit in my chair
with my laptop. Mostly, I write out by hand so I use my #3 pencil and notebook
and write away, then type it in.
Time wise - do you write
daily? Weekly?
I try to write daily. It depends on the day
though. But weekly for sure.
Do you wait for inspiration?
Yes…
which comes up meaning times in my dreams. Waking and sleeping.
Okay, do you start with
coffee as so many writers do?
Tea,
English style with cream and honey. I used to do coffee, but started getting
too many jitters if I drank too much.
What is your goal - long term?
To
leave a legacy of writing that touches peoples lives long after I'm gone.
Any advise to wanna-be's?
Hang
in there. Write your heart. Use the imagination God gave you. Use your writer's
voice and make it sing. Don't let anyone take it away from you.
Thanks for sharing, Tina. May
God bless your endeavors.
Blurb
--
The
Civil War rages, and Rebekah fights to keep her world intact. Loss and sorrow
seeps into her heart. Her sights on Oregon, she prays New Eden will be a place
of peace for her and her son. A refuge. She travels to Missouri to start her
journey and is denied the opportunity to join the train. Matthew battles his
way through the war thinking of Rebekah, planning to help her west. He fears
his biggest battle lies ahead. Will Rebekah open up her heart and allow him to
be the one to hold her When the Shadows Fall?
Purchase my books at:
Desert Breeze Bookstore.
Excerpt:
Matthew
drew up his legs, rested his arms on his knees, and tucked his head on his
arms. The sapling straightened in relief. The sweat beaded and ran a line down
his back; he was too busy visiting with Rebekah to care.
Where
was she now? How was she? Nathan promised to keep him informed, but so far, no
word had arrived. It worried him. If he had the time -- if he hadn't joined up
-- he'd look into things himself, but he wouldn't have leave 'til November. He
was beginning to doubt he'd make it till then.
"Mr.
Cavanaugh." Hearing his name, Matthew stood up, brushing his backside.
"Mr. Cavanaugh." A young private scanned the area, searching for him.
"Here."
Matthew waved and headed toward the messenger.
"Mr.
Cavanaugh." The private studied Matthew's attire, then saluted and tried
to catch his breath. "Captain St. James would like to see you in his
quarters, sir."
"Will
that be all, Private?" Sweat beaded on the young man's forehead. It
dislodged and rolled with his nod. Matthew swiped his own brow. "If you've
nothing further to do, maybe you should head down to the stream. I think I see
an empty spot."
"Yes,
sir." The private started to run then stopped and saluted.
The
private headed for the stream and crammed himself in the small space. Matthew
went in search of Nathan.
"Nathan."
He stopped outside the tent.
"Come
in." From behind his desk, over a stack of papers, Nathan looked up at his
friend. "Glad you could come by. We don't see enough of each other."
"Probably
has something to do with this war," Matthew said lightheartedly.
Nathan's face devoid of
emotion, he nodded. "You just get back?"
Matthew nodded and
plucked at his shirt. "Haven't cleaned up. I'm surprised you can get this close without
gagging." Matthew smiled... Nathan didn't. Something was wrong. Matthew
took a seat on Nathan's cot, and studied his friend.
Nathan
looked healthy enough. A little tired. Weren't they all? Nathan's
double-breasted coat with blue velvet cuffs and collar, was slightly worn, but
he dressed impeccably in spite of it. From his regulation haircut, right down
to the shine on his black Wellingtons, he looked like a true career soldier.
What was amiss?
"I
know you haven't given your report, but I wanted your assessment of the
situation." Nathan looked up long enough for Matthew to glimpse the pain
in Nathan's brown eyes.
"It
doesn't look good. But you know that. We aren't going to hold Harper's Ferry,
and Lee knows it. He's determined to make a stand here." Matthew sighed.
"It was nothing short of a miracle to find Lee's orders in Frederick and
it's to our benefit Lee has his army divided with us sitting right between 'em.
Let's hope, McClellan will use that advantageously. But this won't be a minor
skirmish and it can't be stopped. Over a hundred thousand men are in those fields
-- itching to fight."
"So,
when it does come -- and it will. Soon. -- It will be nothing short of hell on
earth. I just pray we hold the line. Pray we hold Maryland." Matthew
barely nodded. "That's about all I can say."
The
table wobbled as Nathan moved from behind it. His stack of papers shifted as if caught by a breeze -- a
ghost breeze the whole camp was looking for. Nodding solemnly, he took a seat
on the cot. It creaked and bowed under the weight of both men.
"I
wouldn't tell this to another soul, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'm not going to
make it through this next battle. I feel it, Matt. I can't even tell
Sara."
Matthew
understood the feeling. It tormented him too, tormented them all. "It's
nothing to be ashamed of. Only a fool would say he wasn't afraid. You'll make
it home."
Tears
formed in Nathan's eyes. "This feeling is awful strong. And how long will
home be there?
"Don't
talk like that, Nate. We'll hold the line." Matthew fought to hold his
tears. "You won't die. You can't." I won't let you.
Nathan
met Matthew's eyes directly. "But if I did. I couldn't without you knowing
how much you mean to me. You're like a brother. I count it a privilege to call
you friend."
"And
I you," Matthew choked the words, tried to swallow the pit in the back of
his throat. It felt as if his heart lodged there. The two men hugged and cried
like mere babes. Somewhere amid the pain, they both found a smile. They pulled
apart slapping each other's arms softly.
"About
that bath," Nathan teased and covered a snigger with his hand. He dusted
Matthew's shirt before he grew serious again. "Matt, I know I've hounded
you about the Lord and your eternal soul, but I couldn't bear to have you go
into this next battle without telling you again of God's love. I've been
praying for you. Praying you'd accept the gift of God's grace. Praying you'll
be okay. I want to know if I do die, I'll be able to see you again."
Nathan's
sincerity touched Matthew. True, he'd told him all this before, but knowing at
this moment in time Nathan prayed for him, humbled him. "I know,"
Matthew's voice broke. "I know I've always told you, I'll think about. And
I do. It's on my mind more than ever. I'm glad you pray for me. Don't
stop."
"Ah,
Matt. I call you brother now because you're dear to me. One day I hope to call
you so 'cause you know the Lord. I won't stop praying." Nathan squeezed
Matthew's shoulder.
"I'm
glad." Matthew smiled.
"I should let you clean up before
you give your report, but I'll see you there."
"Until this
afternoon then." Matthew turned to leave and Nathan stopped him.
"Wait, this might
interest you." Nathan pulled an envelope from his pocket. He handed it to Matthew with a wink.
"It came while you were gone. Don't worry about getting it back to me. You
keep it."
Matthew
stepped out of the tent and turned the envelope in his hands. After a month,
word had finally come from Rebekah. Matthew stuck the letter in his pocket;
he'd read it once he'd cleaned.
Changed
and shaved, he settled back on his cot half an hour later and opened Rebekah's
letter. It didn't matter it wasn't addressed to him, all that mattered was
knowing she was okay.
