Category Archives: Greylock

Christmas River Ghost by Paula Cappa

Christmas River Ghost    by Paula Cappa

A Christmas Tale,  Thursday,  December 7, 2017

Merry Christmas to my readers and followers. I give you a free short story by yours truly (flash-fiction, 12-minute read). Snuggle in with a cup of hot spiced cider, a Christmas cookie, and the Christmas River Ghost.

 

 

They come—through the icy wind, between the naked trees, walking the bridge, by Eagle Hill River. On Christmas Eve, I come home to call the old time back. Holly wreaths, tea and sugar, apple cakes, a partridge in a pear tree. And a peacock hung dead with its speckled feathers in the pantry. ‘ Take the peacock, break its neck.’  That I remember with a shiver.

Tonight there is the good news of snow falling, the dark village sleeping beneath giant snow drops everywhere as I make my way through Main Street. The church steeple chimes do not sound yet, as it is not midnight. My mind calls up pixies and elves, the ringing of sleigh bells across the sky.

The house waits for me, shabby with the grief of those passed on. Spending Christmas alone has its virtue, my sister Annabella used to say, whose heart was ever open to charity’s claims and gift-giving. She would know about such solitude; she had spent many a Christmas alone. Too many times, my fault.

A Christmas Eve supper will sooth me: ham and apricots, a fresh biscuit, a glass of warm red wine with a cinnamon stick. The crabbed and wrinkled Scrooge breaks into my thoughts. Maybe I would read a few pages of Dickens. Remind myself of the miserly and cold-hearted man.

Snow pelts arrows at me as I stumble up the hill to the front path. I ring the doorbell just for fun, announcing my arrival to no one. Maybe Annabella will hear it. That is, if her spirit still lives here. Christmas ghosts are common, I’m told. Christmas miracles and all that—the arrival of the holy babe makes a holy night. If true, her presence would certainly reside in the kitchen especially. Her lilac perfume and the green ribbons in her light brown tresses every Christmas day. I can see her at the stove, blue eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed with the holiday excitement. Home is such a magnet. In the front hall I nearly expect to hear her laughter just one more time.

The kitchen is the same as when I was a girl. Oak table by the frost-crazed window panes. That ancient curly-legged cast iron stove that spouted smoke at the ceiling. A white cupboard, open-shelved where pies would cool and tempt.

‘ Rose, take the peacock, break its neck, cut its throat.’

Again I shiver. “Time to make Christmas.” I warm the kitchen with Annabella’s boiling copper kettle and make a pot of orange tea in her china teapot trimmed in holly. I set my slice of ham, three apricots, and biscuit into the oven. The red wine steams with the cinnamon stick on the stovetop. The savory aroma is exactly as Annabella used to make it. In the library, I stack logs and kindling in the hearth as she did every Christmas when I was a child. Nothing like a roaring fire to set things right. For I must set things right tonight.

As I recline in the giant armchair, I decide against reading Dickens. No need for Scrooge now, nor the reminder of being arrogant and vain and stingy.  My tight-fisted hand at the grindstone. Is this really me? I’m done with all that. Music will serve. I find Annabella’s old Christmas records. Sleigh bells ring … are you listening … walking in a winter wonderland.

‘ We cut its throat. Flay him, skin him, feathers and skin altogether.’ I squeeze my eyes shut to blink away the raw images. Such exquisite turquoise- and purple-eyed quills. Peacocks are perfect everlasting beauties. I shoot my vision out the side window. Through the snow, I see the old ice house still stands by the bridge. And that marvelous sledding hill that Annabella and I rode, sisters hanging on to each other at every curve. Veering right, veering left, flying high. I never minded numb fingertips.

‘ Draw him down tight. Keep the neck whole. Mind the dripping blood now.’  My breath catches in my chest like an ice block. I down the wine and head to the kitchen to check the ham. I set out my Christmas supper on the oak table and sit down. Later on we’ll conspire … as we dream by the fire … walking in a winter wonderland. The biscuit is oozing with melted butter. The ham juicy and tender. I add a dash of salt and pepper.

‘ Brine the bird with salt, sugar, a palmful of peppercorns.’ Annabella’s words repeat in my head. She always basted the peacock with beaten eggs and honey.   ‘To keep the meat moist and tender.’ And she never believed the folklore that peacocks were bad luck or evil-eyed spirits. ‘ Pure as snow,’ she was certain.

‘ Let’s roast him high as if he is sitting up alive—just like a king.’

Every Christmas she would carry the bird on a silver platter on her shoulder to the table. The breast dripped with golden gravy. Annabella dressed it with the tail feathers struck out in a wild plumage of color. Before we ate it, as was usual from our childhood days, we made the peacock vow of immortality, an honor to the bird’s ‘ love and beauty forevermore.’

Forevermore, Annabella’s favorite word to shout out every Christmas.

“Annabella? Are you here with me tonight? Please be here with me tonight.”

Silence at Christmas time can be unnerving. I listen closely for a moment. “Annabella?”

Words float into my mind.  ‘ Rose, remember the flocks in the woods. Remember the dancing peacocks when you were a little girl.’

I gaze out to the vast woods and recall the giant birds’ studded tails, how they twirled their feathers into violet hues. I would practically swim in those exuberant colors, getting lost in them. What loud calls they made, like urgent church bells. Each peacock seemed to walk alone, though, on his own path. I always wondered why. Still, I loved the luster in their eyes as I greeted them good morning and good night each day.

‘ Remember, Rose. The bridge. Our favorite spot by the river.’

Maybe Christmas ghosts are real. If I could be granted just one moment with her. One moment to say just two words. Within minutes I bundle up, hat to boots, and slosh out. Leaving tracks behind me in the snow, uphill toward the sledding hill, I stop at the foot of the bridge. The river is churning slowly with ice patches. Through the snowfall, on the far side, I see a tangle of shadows, pointed shapes, hot-blue barrel chests, and streaming colorful threads. Dark is present. I am not afraid of the dark. I walk across the bridge and stop midway. Only the soft sounds of the snowflakes surround me. And then I see them. The flocks. Hundreds of all-seeing eyes stare straight at me. The woods are full of peacocks, their plumage unfurled and radiant, just like when I was a girl. My heart shivers.

One by one they turn away from me and walk through the trees on their separate paths. No Annabella appears. Nor will she. I know that now. There is no such thing as a ghost. No extra moments to be given. No words allowed to mend the past. Too many years now since the river swallowed Annabella that Christmas morning. Her canoe overturned; her body never found. I should have been here.

We live. We die. Only the peacock’s flesh does not decay when it dies, Annabella used to say. ‘ They live on for all of us, these forgiving souls of wisdom.’

A single peacock comes forward from the woods now. He mounts the bridge where I stand. With his beak lifted, he trails a dusty green aura behind him. Regal beyond words, he holds all the secrets in his vibrancy. I so envy him.

 

The snow stops. The peacock curls his soft feathers around me and I smell his meaty flesh. He flaps his wings and cries out as if laughing at life. He follows me back to the house, just like when I was a kid. Peacocks are such gifts. “Goodnight, lovely peacock. Goodnight.”

Christmas chimes ring out from the church steeple. Midnight, holy night. His wings flare, his tail swings generously, rocking the darkness. He perches himself up on the backyard fence rail, letting his feathers drip down like tresses.

Inside the house, I sit in the armchair by the window. Does he know I’m watching him? The shifting iridescence of his colors in the sudden moonlight saturate my thoughts. Alone on my own path, I drift off to sleep in the chair. Were it not for the church chimes ringing in the holy babe on Christmas morn, I might not have woken from such a deep sleep. Scrambling to my feet, I look out the window to the fence. Gone. His claw prints are tracks leading back to Eagle Hill River.

There, in the pure white snow he had shed his full plumage. A wild fan of green-rimmed, blue-eyed feathers are glistening in the Christmas sun—standing upright, alive like a king.

“Forevermore,” I say aloud. “Forevermore, Annabella.”

 

 

 

 

 

In medieval times, peacock was served for the Christmas feast. The bird would be skinned, roasted whole and then redressed in its feathers to look as if it was still alive. Its beak was gilded with gold leaf and a piece of cloth soaked in spirits was inserted into the beak and set alight. It would be served by the highest lady of the house.

 

 

By many accounts, it is well known that the iridescence in the peacocks’ colors represent the reality of the spiritual world rather than the imaginary world. In Christianity, peacocks are a common motif representing eternal life, the peacocks’ feathered eyes symbolizing the all-seeing eye of God. 

Fra Angelico’s Nativity with a peacock on the stable roof.

 

 

Friends, do leave me a comment. This is my newest short story and I’d love to hear your thoughts. Or, ask me a question, let me know if you would recommend this story to friends, or if you’re so inspired, write me a quick review. 

 

 

 

 

Christmas River Ghost. Copyright © 2017 by Paula Cappa.

All Rights Reserved. 

 

Advertisements

9 Comments

Filed under Charles Dickens, Christmas ghost stories, Christmas stories, fiction, ghost stories, ghost story blogs, Ghosts, Gothic fiction, Greylock, horror blogs, literary horror, literature, mysteries, Night Sea Journey, quiet horror, Reading Fiction, READING FICTION BLOG Paula Cappa, short stories, short story blogs, supernatural fiction, tales of terror, The Dazzling Darkness

Greylock in the Berkshires

On  Saturday, June 24, 2017 at Herman Melville’s Arrowhead, Berkshire Historical Society, in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, I had the privilege to present my supernatural mystery Greylock to local residents and readers.

Arrowhead lies at the foot of Mt. Greylock. Because my novel takes place on Mt. Greylock and is about the supernatural powers of music … of whales … and much more … Arrowhead was an ideal location for this book reading event and signing.

[Courtesy Berkshire County Historical Society.]

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Russian beluga whales in the novel Greylock are nothing near the size of Melville’s Moby Dick, and Melville didn’t write much about his singing whale, but in Greylock, the songs of the beluga whales are a driving entity for the character Alexei Georg, a classical pianist. Murder, music, mystery on Mt. Greylock is haunted suspense where music itself is a character.

Arrowhead is a place of inspiration. There is such a thing as ‘power of place’ in that Melville sought solitude for his imagination. Arrowhead provided that reach for Melville’s true creative powers to soar. Many thanks to Peter Bergman of the Berkshire Historical Society for his invitation to bring my novel Greylock to  Arrowhead. Arrowhead opens a new exhibit this June. This month marks the 61st anniversary of the 1956 film Moby Dick. The exhibit is movie memorabilia and props used in the film.

Greylock in the Berkshires!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Supernatural Power of Music

As part of my presentation of  the story and characters in Greylock, I discussed the supernatural power of music. The account of violinist Giuseppe Tartini’s sonata “The Devil’s Trill” is a perfect example. Alexei’s cousin, Josef, knows all about this sonata and explains what powers lie in music.

So, I asked my audience …

“Do You Believe in Music Phantoms?”

 [2-minute video]

If you don’t believe in music phantoms, this is the story that will test your resolve.

 

 

Greylock in the Berkshires!

Here are some quick images of my spectacular weekend in the Berkshires at Arrowhead. We stayed at Hotel On North in Pittsfield. Five-star accommodations. Their restaurant, raw bar, and quality service made the weekend spectacular. Highly recommended if you are visiting the Berkshires.

Cozy lounge for a champagne toast.

 

Naturally, the gift shop at Arrowhead carries Greylock, as well as the Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, and, on the summit of Mt. Greylock at the Bascom Lodge. Local area libraries and bookshops too.

The Most Inspiring Mountain in Massachusetts

Mt. Greylock is inspiring for many writers, Thoreau and Hawthorne to name a few. J.K. Rowlings, author of the Harry Potter series, has claimed Mt. Greylock for her fiction too. Her new story (Fantastic Beasts) has Ilvermorny founded by an Irish witch who started a school for wizards at the top of Mount Greylock.

 

 

Here’s something Herman Melville wrote about reading: 

“…the books that prove most agreeable, grateful, and companionable,

are those books we pick up by chance here and there …”

 

 

Greylock has over 60 reviews at AMAZON.COM

“Greylock is a smart, entertaining supernatural thriller. Think Stephen King meets Raymond Chandler with a score by Tchaikovsky. The author’s passion for both the arts and the natural world shines through on every page. Briskly paced and yet lovingly detailed, this novel was a genuine pleasure to read.” —David Corbett, best-selling and award-winning author of The Mercy of the Night.

U.S. Review of Books: “Cappa’s latest is nothing less than a mind-boggling mystery … always keeping an elusive edge to her characters’ personas—a plot replete with all the wonderful trappings of a romance-laced mystery with unexpected twists and turns.”

3 Comments

Filed under fiction, ghost story blogs, Greylock, horror blogs, Mt. Greylock, murder mystery, phantoms, quiet horror, Reading Fiction, short story blogs, supernatural, supernatural music, supernatural mysteries, supernatural thrillers

Philomel Cottage, an Agatha Christie Obscure Murder Mystery

Philomel Cottage  by Agatha Christie (1934 Published in Listerdale Mystery)

Tuesday’s Tale of Terror   June 20, 2017

 

This short story by Agatha Christie, the murder mystery master, is one that hasn’t seen much popular light. Raymond Chandler was said to criticize Christie’s literary skills but that didn’t tarnish her fame or book sales.  She remains the queen of crime.  Philomel Cottage is probably one you’ve not read.

The name of this cottage carries a very specific subtext. The title Philomel—also known as Philomela—refers to a Greek goddess who was turned into a bird. In Christie’s story, Philomel represents the nightingale, symbolic of the feminine rejecting the dark silence and her finding voice in that darkness to sing.

This is a romantic twisty tale, set in a cheerful English village of gardens and gossip. The drama is about a newly married couple, Alix and her demanding husband Gerald—how lovely their new home is and how happy the setting. Well, maybe not for long. Murder and the dark psychological powers of dreaming prevail.

The ending is unpredictable and not at all in the neatly tied-up style we are used to in Christie crime mysteries. It’s unusual for Christie to flavor her stories with anything supernatural, but one might interpret this story to be haunting in a Hitchcockian way.  Christie’s compelling narrative suspense, as always, does not disappoint.

Read the short story  here at Celine.Klinghammer.free.fr.

 

This story was adapted for film in 1937 with Ann Harding and Basil Rathbone Love With A Stranger. If you are an old film buff like me, this one is thoroughly enjoyable. Vintage black and white and so fashionable. Women wearing curvy slinky dresses, budding rounded busts with sexy shoulders and pearls. Men with mustaches and tailored in tweed suits with wide lapels and cuffed wide trousers. Absolutely nostalgic!

Watch it here on YouTube.com.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

//////////////////////////

 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////

Audio: Old Time Radio Suspense of  Philomel Cottage with Orson Wells. This is a real treat!

 

If you are an Agatha Christie fan, you’ll love the Agatha Christie Blog.  

Click here for “How to Make A Miss Marple’s Afternoon Tea.”

//

Christie’s first novel , The Mysterious Affair at Styles, was written in 1916, published in 1920. Murder on the Orient Express (1934); Death on the Nile (1937) and Appointment with Death (1938).   And many more: 78 mystery novels, 19 plays, and over 100 short stories. Her final novel, Sleeping Murder: Miss Marples Last Case, was published posthumously in October 1976. She is considered the best-selling novelist of all time  (2 billion copies sold and by some estimates nearly 4 billion, her works ranking 3rd behind Shakespeare and the Bible). What a gal!

 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Check out The Guardian‘s “No One Should Condescend to Agatha Christie—She’s a Genius.” 

Don’t forget to view the INDEX above of more free Tales of Terror. This is a compendium of over 2 00 short stories by more than 100 famous storytellers of mystery, supernatural, ghost stories, crime, sci-fi, and horror. Follow or sign up to join me in reading two short stories every month.

Comments are welcome.

 

Other Reading Web Sites to Visit

Kirkus Mystery & Thrillers Reviews

Books & Such    Bibliophilica   NewYorkerFictionOnline

 Lovecraft Ezine   Parlor of Horror

HorrorNews.net   Fangoria.com   

Slattery’s Art of Horror Magazine   Chuck Windig’s Terrible Minds

HorrorAddicts.net     Horror Novel Reviews    HorrorSociety.com     

Monster Librarian      HorrorTalk.com 

 Rob Around Books      The Story Reading Ape Blog

For Authors/Writers:  The Writer Unboxed

2 Comments

Filed under Book Reviews, crime stories, crime thrillers, fiction, ghost story blogs, Greylock, horror blogs, murder mystery, Night Sea Journey, Reading Fiction, short stories, short story blogs, supernatural, tales of terror, The Dazzling Darkness

Gaiman’s Black Cave Truth in a Mountain

 The Truth is a Black Cave in a Mountain  by Neil Gaiman (2014)

 

Tuesday’s Tale of Terror   January 17, 2017

 

gaimanthetruthisacaveintheblackmountains

 

Are you a dark fantasy or speculative fiction fan? Dark fantasy is not horror, not ghostly, but explores dark emotions, the psychological, and often paranormal worlds and creatures.  Fantasy is the language of dreams. It has become a popular frontier in storytelling these days. Game of Thrones comes to mind, right? And of course, The Odyssey full of mythical creatures, sirens, and witches.  Today, prepare yourself to shift into another realm in this short story The Truth Is a Cave in the Black Mountains.

Mountains hold silence, silver skies and green earth. What a vast splendor. To stand on a mountain is to stand apart from all men and be inside the heart of nature. I felt that way when I climbed Mt. Greylock to research my novel.  As if I could climb skyward on the ladder of clouds, I wanted to feel its power.  John Muir says “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.” But there can be darkness too, spiky-edged shadows and brooding whispers. And unawakened eyes.

 

images

 

Two men embark on a journey in what appears to be the Scottish terrain. There are secrets here. And magic. And a skull. Come into the dark fantasy world of Neil Gaiman.

The truth is a cave in the black mountains.  And maybe gold is hidden here too. There is one way there, and that way is treacherous, and if you choose the wrong path you will die alone on the mountainside.

The two walked on and into the Misty Isle. The mountains were black and grey against the white of the sky. Eagles circled.

“I see death in your past and death in your future.”

“Death waits in all our futures,” I said.

Something was there. Something was waiting.

 

maxresdefault

 

The part fable and part fairy tale brings you shadows,  regret, vengeance, and, ultimately love.

 

Read the FREE short story here at FiftyTwoStories.com

p039nxcx

 

p02gvbk4

Neil Gaiman  is the New York Times bestselling author of the novels Neverwhere (1995), Stardust (1999), the Hugo and Nebula Award-winning American Gods (2001), Anansi Boys (2005), and Good Omens (with Terry Pratchett, 1990), as well as the short story collections Smoke and Mirrors (1998) and Fragile Things (2006).  His The Graveyard Book  won the UK’s Booktrust Prize for Teenage Fiction, the Newbery Medal, and the Hugo Best Novel Prize.

His first collection of short fiction, Smoke and Mirrors: Short Fictions and Illusions, was nominated for the UK’s MacMillan Silver Pen Awards as the best short story collection of the year.

 

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness.”  Neil Gaiman.

 

 

 

MORE TALES OF TERROR

15940742_1231316186946636_7134412461241915755_n

Don’t forget to view the INDEX above of more free Tales of Terror. This is a compendium of nearly 200 short stories by over 100 master storytellers of mystery,  supernatural, horror, and ghost stories. Join me in reading one short story every other week! Comments are welcome.

 

Other Reading Web Sites to Visit

The Kill Zone

Kirkus Mystery & Thrillers Reviews

Books & Such   Bibliophilica    Lovecraft Ezine   Parlor of Horror

HorrorNews.net   Fangoria.com   

Slattery’s Art of Horror Magazine

HorrorAddicts.net     Horror Novel Reviews    HorrorSociety.com     

Monster Librarian     HorrorTalk.com 

 Rob Around Books      The Story Reading Ape Blog

For Authors/Writers:  The Writer Unboxed

EZindiepublishing

Thriller Author Mark Dawson http://markjdawson.com/

Dawson’s Book Marketing site: http://www.selfpublishingformula.com/

 

5 Comments

Filed under dark fantasy, fiction, ghost story blogs, Greylock, horror blogs, Mt. Greylock, psychological horror, short stories, short story blogs, skulls, supernatural, supernatural thrillers, tales of terror

Review of Greylock – Five Stars from Don Sloan

Five Stars from Veteran Book Reviewer Don Sloan:

“I’ve not seen anything like it since Hitchcock and duMaurier gave us The Birds. Greylock is a stunning masterpiece of innovative horror. Award-winning author Paula Cappa delivers a virtuoso performance in fiction, with characters you’ll care deeply about and sinister evil that will trouble your sleep for a long time to come.

Composer and classical concert pianist Alexei Georg has a dream: to put the music of the beluga whales off Russia’s coast into a musical composition for piano and symphony orchestra. Only two things are stopping him: a shrewish wife and a black apparition that haunts his recent performances. His lover, radio meteorologist Lia Marrs, wants very much to believe that Alexei will be successful in his bid to divorce the diabolical Carole Anne, but his soon-to-be ex-wife has a secret she’s holding over his head — the revelation that his signature composition “October” was, in fact, written over a hundred years earlier by someone else.

He travels to the icy waters where the whales are known to sing their eerie songs, and encounters a female Russian shaman who alternately intrigues him and terrifies him with her enigmatic interpretations.Then, Carole Anne’s murder throws things into turmoil as Alexei, suspected of the crime, flees to remote Mount Greylock, still pursued by the dark phantom.

This inspired story of the creative process, and the lengths to which a composer might go to realize his dream, is at once cautionary and revealing. Who can say what dark muses we all might entreat to achieve our artistic aims and aspirations?

Five well-earned stars to Greylock.”

ChanticleerBadge-2015-Paranormal-CategoryGreylock_thumbnail3PaulaCappa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Print Edition published by Crispin Books.  

Kindle and print editions available on Amazon.com.

5starsimgres

 

1 Comment

Filed under Book Reviews, crime stories, crime thrillers, fiction, Greylock, horror blogs, Mt. Greylock, paranormal, short story blogs, supernatural music, supernatural mysteries, supernatural thrillers

Crispin Books Releases GREYLOCK, Print Edition

Real books are on the rebound. Why? Comprehension and emotional engagement are higher for readers who are reading hard print on the page as compared to ebook readers tracking words across a lit screen. Publishers Weekly reported last year that print books are selling better than ebooks. But I still do love my Kindle.

So, for all you lovers (myself included) of the textural feel of paper-turning action while reading, for all you who savor the swishing of each page as you journey into a story, for all you who admire beautiful book covers on your tables and eye-catching spines on your bookshelves, I’m happy to announce that Crispin Books of Milwaukee, Wisconsin has just launched GREYLOCK in a trade softcover print edition.

Greylock_large3

“Greylock is a stunning mountain, the terrain rolling like a series of hunchbacks with secret clefts.

Makes one wonder what secrets are buried here.” Alexei Georg, Greylock.

 

On Amazon and Barnes & Noble

For booksellers, available at Ingram and Baker & Taylor Book Distributors.

GreylockTablePhotoIMG_0090

 

“Echoing notes of Phantom of the Opera, mixed with Raymond Chandler’s Marlowe, and Peter Straub’s Ghost Story, Greylock is a thrilling musical tragedy steeped in lore, mythology, and the madness of composition, leading to a crescendo of epic proportions. Paula Cappa is a gifted author, and this book will have you swooning in the aisles.” —Richard Thomas, author of Disintegration.

“A smart, entertaining supernatural thriller. Think Stephen King meets Raymond Chandler with a score by Tchaikovsky. Briskly paced, this novel was a genuine pleasure to read.” —David Corbett, award-winning and best-selling author of The Mercy of the Night.

“If you’re looking for an imaginative, sophisticated read, you’ve found it. Five stars.” —Michael Schmicker, best-selling author of The Witch of Napoli.

“Rarely have I come across such an original and well-written story. A unique, expertly written mix of genres that makes for a haunting book.” —Nicholas Rossis, award-winning author of Pearseus.

bookpagesmages

Leave a comment

Filed under fiction, Greylock, horror blogs, Mt. Greylock, short story blogs, supernatural music, supernatural mysteries, supernatural thrillers

Greylock, Semi-Finalist in Kindle Book Awards

Are you a book award watcher? Man Booker, Pulitzer, Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stoker, Nebula, Feather Quill. Some think we are a prize-obsessed society as we watch the Oscars and the Tony Awards religiously with popcorn and champagne parties. Who will get that seal of excellence for all the public to applaud?

While winning an award is about discovery and networking, exposure certainly, the real benefit of any award, literary or otherwise, indie or international is the encouragement.  How many times does a writer feel like quitting? How many times does a writer say, “Oh, this story is trash. Burn it”? Self-doubt is a familiar state of mind for many writers, myself included. The rigors of fiction, of structure and creativity are constant challenges. We all grow weary from time to time.

So, today, I say ‘yes to the present moment’, as Eckhart Tolle says and share with you a much needed moment of encouragement from the Kindle Book Awards. Winners to be announced in autumn 2016.

Greylock is a semi-finalist in the suspense/horror category. 

KindleBookReviewAwardImage

 

Greylock_thumbnail3PaulaCappa

 

For my author friends here, the link below at The Book Publicist is

a list of 37 literary book awards. Best wishes to all!

The Book Publicist.

 

2 Comments

Filed under Book Reviews, fiction, Greylock, horror blogs, Mt. Greylock, Reading Fiction, short story blogs, supernatural music, supernatural mysteries, supernatural thrillers