NANOWRIMO DAY 3

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So now I know why Nano 2007 is going swimmingly, or perhaps, like a runaway freight train, while Nano 2006 stalled at 21K. This time around I've got a heroine/narrator who never shuts up!

Mary, 14-year-old daughter of a widowed mother in very rural small-community Alabama in 1911, is a) psychic, b) a magnet for the Dead, c) wryly sarcastic, d) very very voluble. Mary does not stop telling her story any time, even when I'm trying to a) read, b) study my writing coursework, c) grade, d) write something of my own that is not Mary's story, e) sleep.

No, Our Mary moves right along with or without me. I can't turn her off and I don't think I inspired her to turn on! No, she just appeared in her little filmstrip climbing on to the southern (left-hand) railing of the Old Train Trestle (partially destroyed in the fatal flood of '08) and she and I have been on that runaway train ride ever since: two hoboes sliding back and forth inside an open boxcar, while the train clatters down the tracks to: ???



Well, clearly not oblivion, because The Dead are always very much with Mary:
her brother, her cousin, her other cousin, her despised wealthy uncle; and very probably her Daddy, although she hasn't revealed that part yet.


Oh, and the spinster adulterous schoolteacher from the next town down the river, who was choir leader at Mary's Baptist Church. Mary sees her too, and her married lover. They're deceased, of course.

Yesterday Mary introduced me to the Spiritualist minister that her Aunt has summoned from Birmingham to conduct seances. Mary doesn't like him. I don't think I do either.

Day 3 Total Word Count: 5992

Nano Nov. 2

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Just to keep myself on track this year, I'm keeping up a Nano spreadsheet at Google Docs which not only gives me a running total, but also tells me how far ahead I am, and on what date I can expect to finish.


Well, yesterday I was ahead enough at 1939 wc (word count) that my expected finish date was Nov. 26, not Nov. 30.

Today I added another scintillating 2047, so now my "due date" is Nov. 25! Yay! I've a total of 3986 at the moment, and when the 2007 Nano widgets become available, I'll install one here and it will update directly from my updating at the www.nanowrimo.org site. Too cool!


BTW, the Opus is currently (working) titled "Mary at The Old Railroad Trestle," and is a 1st-person narrative of a 14-year-old girl in small, small-town Alabama in May 1911. It's a YA haunting supernatural/mystery :)

NANOWRIMO: NOVEMBER 2007

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NANOWRIMO 2007 has commenced and writers are off and running, racing out of the starting gate and trying for a minimum of 1,667 word count daily. The reward: completing a 50,000 word novel by the end of the date on November 30.


Annually since 1999 National Novel Writing Month gives writers the opportunity to break past the Inner Critic/Inner Editor and experience the sheer joy of WRITING-WRITING-WRITING.


Montgomery's current word count:
Nov. 1-1939

!!!NANOWRIMO!!!

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Fourteen hours till the beginning of NANOWRIMO 2007!


Every year since 1999, writers gather to spend a month churning out word count quantity,
Revise later, polish later: WRITE RIGHT NOW!


For a month and a half I've known my topic; this was the second choice topic because from September 1 to mid-September I had an idea.
But Monday night Oct. 29 an entirely new scenario arose and began playing like a film in my head. This one is suffusing my veins and skirling along my writing nerves and I KNOW this is the route of NANOWRIMO 2007 for this writer!

Quont, Mernac's God of Lust: I Need a Man

Quont, Mernac's God of Lust: I Need a Man

NANOWRIMO!

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November marks National Novel Writing Month 2007. From November 1-30 thousands, maybe millions, of participants will write blazingly to complete 50,000 words on a brand-new, never-before-composed, novel. No editing, no proofreading: NANOWRIMO is for blitz writing! The editing can come later.
Intrigued? Speed on over to the home page and read
http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano
and
See the ten easy steps to Nano success at: http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/hownanoworks

Join me and tons of other writers as we race to an amazing finish!



http://writing.com/authors/fantasywrider

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October 21 is National Mammography Day
October 21, 2005 has been designated National Mammography Day in the United States. This marks the 13th consecutive year that Congress and the President have officially recognized Senator Joe Biden’s (D-DE) National Mammography Day resolution.
WHAT IS NATIONAL MAMMOGRAPHY DAY?
Senator Joe Biden authored the first National Mammography Day resolution in 1993 to help educate women about the importance of early breast cancer detection. On the third Friday this October (National Breast Cancer Awareness Month) mammography medical facilities nationwide will be offering free or reduced-cost screening mammograms as part of National Mammography Day. Getting a mammogram can help women detect breast cancer early when the chances for a cure are at their best.
WHO SHOULD GET A MAMMOGRAM?
The American Cancer Society, the National Cancer Institute, and the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force recommend periodic screening mammography for women over the age of 40 or women who have a history of breast cancer in their family. Be sure to talk with your doctor to determine if this test is appropriate for you.
WHAT IS A MAMMOGRAM?
A mammogram is a special type of x-ray exam used to create detailed images of the breast. It is the only exam approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to help screen for breast cancer in women with no signs of the disease (such as a breast lump). Mammograms can help detect approximately 85% of all breast cancers and can find a breast cancer tumor years before a lump can be felt by touch. In addition to mammography, monthly breast-self exams and clinical breast exams are also useful in detecting breast cancer.
WHERE CAN I GET A MAMMOGRAM?
More than 2,200 mammography facilities that are accredited by the American College of Radiology recognize National Mammography Day. To learn which mammography facilities are participating and/or offering discounted mammograms throughout October, women are encouraged to contact one of the following organizations:
American Cancer Society - http://www.cancer.org - phone: 1-800-227-2345
The Delaware Breast Cancer Coalition, Inc. (DBCC) - http://www.debreastcancer.org - phone: (302) 778-1102 or Toll Free: 1-866-312-DBCC
National Breast Cancer Awareness Month - http://www.nbcam.com
To learn more about National Mammography Day, click here.
###
http://biden.senate.gov/newsroom/details.cfm?id=246801

October: National Breast Cancer Awareness Month

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Breast cancer can strike either gender at any time. In the U.S. it is the 2nd highest cancer fatality among women, surpassed only by lung cancer. African-Americans have a 47% higher mortality rate from breast cancer than do Caucasians, primarily thought to be due to later diagnosis.
Men, you might be susceptible as well. For information see
Detailed Guide to Breast Cancer in Men
at
http://www.cancer.org/docroot/CRI/CRI_2_3x.asp?dt=28

*RISK FACTORS *
For Women
Increasing age
Early menarche (before age 12) or late menopause (after age 55) Never giving birth or having a first child after age 30
Use of hormone replacement therapy for more than 5 years
History of radiation exposure for Hodgkin’s disease or radiation of the thymus
Decreased level of physical activity, increased alcohol use (2-5 drinks/day), obesity, or high fat diet
History of previous abnormal *breast* biopsies
Strong family history that includes:
Two or more relatives (on the same side of the family) diagnosed with *breast* *cancer* at any age
One relative diagnosed with *breast* *cancer* before age 50 or ovarian *cancer* at any age
A male relative diagnosed with *breast* *cancer*
Being a known or suspected carrier of either BRCA1 and/or BRCA2 mutations
http://209.85.165.104/search?q=cache:v7N6diqcV4QJ:www.michigancancer.org/PDFs/MDCHFactSheets/BrCAAwarenessMonthFactSheet-Oct06.pdf+October+Breast+Cancer+Awareness+Month&hl=en&ct=clnk&cd=10&gl=us&client=netscape-pp

Readers need to be aware of the risks and dangers of this disease. Further information is available at many sites including:
http://www.cancer.org/docroot/CRI/content/CRI_2_6x_National_Breast_Cancer_Awareness_Month.asp
http://www.cancer.org/docroot/CRI/content/CRI_2_6x_National_Breast_Cancer_Awareness_Month.asp
http://www.pinkoctober.org

PINK FOR OCTOBER

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October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Web sites go pink for October to raise awareness of the consequences of the disease and of prevention possibilities. Males as well as females can be stricken with Breast Cancer.

Early Detection: Do You Know The Facts?
Each year, 182,000 women are diagnosed with breast cancer and 43,300 die. One woman in eight either has or will develop breast cancer in her lifetime. In addition, 1,600 men will be diagnosed with breast cancer and 400 will die this year.
If detected early, the five-year survival rate for breast cancer exceeds 95%. Mammograms are among the best early detection methods, yet 13 million U.S. women 40 years of age or older have never had a mammogram.
The National Cancer Institute and U.S. Department of Health and Human Services recommend that women in their forties and older have mammograms every one to two years. A complete early detection plan also includes regular clinical breast examinations by a trained medical professional. Monthly breast self-exams are suggested in addition.
Click here and here for more information about breast cancer and the issues surrounding it.

For more information, go to:

http://www.nationalbreastcancer.org/

http://www.cancer.org/docroot/CRI/content/CRI_2_6x_National_Breast_Cancer_Awareness_Month.asp


http://pinkforoctober.org/

Elizabeth George on Writers vs. Authors

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"Here's the thing about writing: There are writers and there are authors. Writers seek to write, and they seek to write better and better with every book. Authors seek only to be published and they seek advances to match their egos."

from Elizabeth George, Foreword to Sometimes The Magic Works: Lessons From a Writing Life by Terry Brooks p. ix, Random House 2004

Sometimes the Magic Works by Terry Brooks

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Sometimes the Magic Works: Lessons from a Writing Life
Terry Brooks
Random House 2004
ISBN 0345465512

Last evening I reread this special little book. As a writer, I’m always looking out for inspiration, and following Mr. Brooks through some of the journey of writing evolution gives me a new perspective on writing, and reading, and reviewing.

Mr. Brooks offers his rules for writing, and comparing those to the foil of other writers’ comments helps me to realize which are best for me as a writer and what most awakens and channels my own creative inspiration.

This one is highly recommended.--MS--

Montgomery's Activities Update

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A busy, busy month of September but so much more to come.

Mid-month, I was offered an Associate Instructor-in-Training teaching position, in an Intermediate Writing course.
That begins Oct. 1.
Also on Oct. 1, I begin as a student in three Advanced Writing courses:

Fantasy/SciFi
Mystery [culminating in a Mystery short story]
Novel Writing [culminating, natch, in Novel]

I've already started a position as Content Provider [4 weekly pages] in the Writing Academy at which I am a student & Associate-in-training Instructor.

November is NANOWRIMO [National Novel Writing Month] so that’s 30 days of writing on a different novel.

That carries me to Dec. 23. Then beginning with the Winter Quarter I’ll continue teaching, and will take the Mystery Novel course!

Great fun, but a tremendous workload! Gotta love it!

Montgomery on the Harry Potter Phenomenon

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Unlike probably nearly every other reader in the Known Universe, I did not read the Harry Potter Series as they were published. Instead, I read the entire series through in order once Book 7, Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows, became available. Prior to that time, I had seen the first movie, “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” but had held off reading any of the books for some unknown unconscious reason.

I found the series immensely fascinating: in fact, I put aside all but the most necessary other reading while I raced through the seven installments in chronological order. Many times I found myself wondering how “regular” Potter fans coped with the time between books, waiting on the newest adventures to be published. I’m thankful I didn’t have to wait.

Yet I have a bone of contention or two to pick with the Harry Potter and the * {insert object here} Series. First of all, are these really books a parent would recommend to a child, ages 9-12, or middle-school range? I think not.

Although this series is heavily publicized as for young adults, and Scholastic Inc. is connected to it and to author J. K. Rowling’s upcoming new Fall U.S. tour, I don’t find this a children’s story whatsoever. Scholastic is very invested {in terms of educational tools} in the series and the author [see http://www.scholastic.com/harrypotter/home.asp].
Amazon.com bills the books as “Young Adult” age group [http://www.amazon.com/Harry-Potter-Paperback-Box-Books/dp/0439887453/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2/103-9980485-9714216?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1186684931&sr=1-2],
labeling the first six as “ages 9-12” [http://www.amazon.com/Harry-Potter-Paperback-Box-Books/dp/0439887453/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2/103-9980485-9714216?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1186684931&sr=1-2].

But after reading in quick consecutive order Books 5, 6, and 7 [Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, now a film; Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince; and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows} I find I couldn’t recommend them to other than emotionally and psychologically mature readers. I actually wept through portions of all three of these books.

In Book 5 {Order of the Phoenix} I raged at the inherent fascism of the opposing regime; and in the newest, Book 7 {Deathly Hallows}, I was incensed and angered by the magical torments applied to adults and to minors {those under seventeen who are wizards and witches are considered minor children}. I found this brutal and unnecessary; much of the violence was penned gratuitously, especially so in the case of graphic violence perpetrated on young adults and on minors. Granted, many good novels contain slices of life as it is: grief, death, heartbreak; but I felt all of these were too much at the heart of the final three novels.

In conclusion, am I sorry I read the series? No, I’m glad I finally read through them, and very happy that I waited until I had all 7 in hand. Will I read them again? Not likely; but if I do so, it will be the first four. I don’t think I could take the emotional wrenching of Books 5, 6, and 7 again.

http://www.jlfoster.biz/files/Within_His_Castle_-_Issue_12.pdf

At Sword Point: Montgomery Comments on Harry Potter

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Don't miss tomorrow's issue of author J. L. Foster's newsletter, Within His Castle Issue 12. My column At Sword Point comments on the Harry Potter Series with some rather surprising conclusions.

Frost on LGBT Fiction

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This past week my dear friend and esteemed colleague Reviewer Frost took on the issue of "LGBT Fiction: Far-Out Alternative or Serious Mainstream?" I think it's a topic worth pursuing, and Frost and newsletter owner author J. L. Foster have kindly allowed me to reprint it here with attribution:

Frost's Freeze
Aug. 3 2oo7

LGBT Fiction:
Far-Out Alternative or Serious Mainstream?

Back in 2oo6, an entrenched venue in the romantic fiction field declared "manlove" off limits as a topic for its panels {and apparently, for reviewing as well}. Just this week, a writer I respect announced revision of a series hero's love interest, from gay to straight. The reason? "Gay isn't mainstream."

Reviewer Frost strongly disagrees, and I think the evidence backs up the alternative theory that LGBT fiction is indeed popular, and publishable. Not only are readers who happen to be Lesbian, Gay, Bi, and Transgendered reading, writing, publishing, and purchasing fiction featuring alternative characters and situations. The increasing market among Straight readers for Gay erotic romance bears this out as well. When het authors are producing exciting and erotic works in the Gay fields, and Straight and LGBT readers are racing to buy, the question of publishability for Gay fiction doesn't seem to hold water.

Setting aside the concept of writing for publishability, then, let's take up the further point: why is a viable, important, vital avenue of fiction not considered mainstream? Granted, this is only one reviewer's opinion platform; but standing in the river of prediction I foresee a stronger-than-ever market for writing, publishing, marketing, and reviewing fiction in the LGBT field, whether penned by authors whose preference is alternative or Straight.

Reviewer Frost welcomes fiction submissions for review of the LGBT variety, and will provide an honest and heartfelt commentary. Let's make our own mainstream for LGBT fiction.

--Reviewer Frost
http://www.jlfoster.biz/frost
August 3, 2007--

Within His CastleJ. L. Foster AuthorIssue 11-August 3, 2007-page 46

Fantasy: An Entire Way of Life

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“Fantasy is not just a way of reading or of writing; Fantasy is an entire way of coping with Consensus Reality.”
This is my motto for life.
I’ve been a proponent of the fantasy genre probably as long as I’ve been alive. When other children outgrew their imaginary playmates, Guardian Angels, and magical thinking, I never did. I still believe. And because I believe in Fantasy, I read Fantasy, I write Fantasy, I live Fantasy.
My first memories are of reading: walking the aisles of the Library, seeking out knowledge, wisdom, and most importantly, escape-escape to another reality, another time, another place. Here is where my initial interests in Fantasy as a genre expanded to included Science Fiction, Horror, and Paranormal; Historical, Supernatural, Occult—anything but non-fiction, which generally is too close to consensus reality to interest me, or to provide an escape.
The first novel I remember reading wasn’t actually a children’s book. Andre Norton’s wonderful Lord of Thunder, a science-fiction novel which I consider to have elements of fantasy. Reading it, I was immediately transported to a different world, one with exciting characters who earned my empathy, action-adventure, and best of all, writing that enabled my escape from the Real World. And after all, isn’t that what the best fiction is all about? At least it is, for me.

Christine Norris' VBT Stop: Thanks!!

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Thanks to everyone who participated in making Christine's visit fruitful! All comments are appreciated, and I hope everyone will buy and read Return to Zandria. You won't regret it! It's a wonderful story and very well-written. We all need to escape sometimes, and this fine book will take you away!

Welcome to Author Christine Norris!

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A warm and heartfelt welcome to author Christine Norris, celebrating the release of her newest novel, Return to Zandria. This is today’s stop on Christine’s Virtual Book Tour.

Christine is a prolific author, who not only writes but also teaches some of the essentials of the craft of writing during encouraging visits to schools, where she inspires students with her “Read, Think, Write!” program.



Read on for my interview with Christine, an excerpt from the wonderful Return to Zandria, and my review of the book.

An Interview With Christine Norris

Christine, you write fantasy specifically for the young-adult age group. Can you tell us, first, why fantasy? and second, why for this age group particularly?

Because I am a lover of fairy tales. They’ve always been my favorite kind of story —faraway places that never have been, and magic and Happily Ever After are what I grew up on. This age group, 9-12, is so much fun. They’re not too young to understand how the world works, and yet they’re young enough to accept a world full of magic and make believe. It’s my favorite age to substitute teach for too.


The way you describe Ivy in the blurb of your first novel, Talisman of Zandria, is precious and I'm sure tugs at the heart-strings of all of us who've survived childhood and adolescence. Might I ask, did you draw on Ivy from life, your own or someone close to you?

I think we’ve all felt the way Ivy feels at the beginning of TALISMAN—that we don’t quite fit in, that we’re not anything special, or we feel invisible. When I was that age, yes, I was sort of the oddball, the kid who knew all the answers, who wore glasses and didn’t talk to people easily. I was teased a lot too, which didn’t make things easier. I had friends, but I was never ‘popular.’

I’m glad to say I’ve outgrown all that, and my son probably will never have that problem. He’s only four, but he makes friends wherever he goes, and he’s NOT afraid to approach people. I hope he stays that way, he’s a great kid.

Please tell us about your participation in the Stories of Strength anthology, and about the reasons behind this important undertaking.

Wow, that was unexpected. That was, what, in 2005? It was after Katrina hit, and a bunch of writers on the Absolute Write forums (www.absolutewrite.com ) got together and decided to put together an anthology of short stories, the proceeds of which go to different aid charities. The anthology is still available, and has many great stories by a long list of authors, including Orson Scott Card and Wil Wheaton.

Please tell us about your interest in Manga: how did that develop, describe your many published works in that genre, what are your plans in that regard for the near future?

Actually the books I’ve worked on are called Light Novels. They’re just like regular books, except they have more illustrations than the average novel. They’re all the rage in Japan, like manga, and I’ve done what’s called the English Adaptations for several series licensed here in the U.S. What that means is they send me the translated manuscript and I clean it all up so that it reads like an American novel and not translated Japanese. It’s mostly contract work, but I like it and it’s fun, so I’m always looking for more work of that type.



You have a release coming in 2008 from Samhain Publishing: Crown of Zeus. What can you tell us about this book?

Ooh, that’s a good one. I’m really excited about THE CROWN OF ZEUS. It’s the first of a series I’ve written, called The Library of Athena, about a girl named Megan Montgomery who’s life gets turned upside down when she has to move from NYC to this big old house out in the English countryside. In the middle of being “the new girl” and a little bit ostracized, as well as having to adapt to a whole new country, she discovers a secret hidden deep beneath her house—a secret library. It’s all ripping fun and mythological monsters and bonding with new friends. My editor is pretty excited about it too.

Can you expand some on your program for school children: "Read Think Write"?

That’s my three-step program for teaching writing. I start out by listing all the places writers work, so kids know it’s more than just writing books, and then taking them through simple steps – reading, which I think is key to writing well, thinking about what you’ve read and what kind of story you want to write, and then writing it. I also talk about how writers write in different ways – some outline, some take notes, and some just sit down with an idea and go. I think children sometimes get stuck thinking they’re not doing it the ‘right’ way, when there IS no ‘right’ way, just what works for you.

Thanks Annie, for having me on your blog, this was fun, and I wish you well with your review blog!

{Interview questionnaire by Montgomery Sword}

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Excerpt from Return to Zandria



Chapter 1
Memories Awakened


Ivy Peterson was not ordinary. Nor was she extraordinary or unusual. Ivy Peterson was More-Than-Ordinary. Despite her self-admitted plain looks, despite the fact she probably could not be picked out of a crowd of other fourteen-year-olds, she was the Most More-Than-Ordinary fourteen-year-old anyone could hope to meet. Ivy was More-Than-Ordinary because once she found herself in a very special place, and had a very special adventure.
But that was long ago, and Ivy was far too old for fairy tales…

* * *
“Come on, Ivy! Get a move on!”
“Yes, Mother.”
Friday morning, and Ivy was running late. Again. It was the third day in a row. Rain tapped an increasingly fast beat on the windows, as if it, too, were telling Ivy to hurry up. Rubbing her face with her hand and stifling a yawn, she dragged her backpack behind her as she jogged down the hall from her bedroom to the bathroom.
Ivy scrubbed her face, carefully brushed her long, mouse-brown hair, checked her shirt and denim shorts to make sure they were neat and without spots or holes, and applied a bit of pink lip gloss.
She hadn’t always bothered to put so much time into her appearance. There had been a time when she felt invisible, Less-than-Ordinary and Not-Very-Brave, so what her clothes looked like didn’t matter much. Now she was confident, happy, and mildly popular. She couldn’t remember why the sudden change occurred, only that it was right around the time she met her best friend, Lori. Almost three years ago.
“I won’t ask you again, Ivy Peterson! Let’s go!”
Ivy rolled her eyes. Yes, I’m coming, she thought angrily as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, hoisted her pack onto her shoulder and thumped downstairs into the kitchen. Her mother stood at the counter, drinking a cup of coffee. She pointed to a glass on the counter.
“You need to move faster, Ivy. There’s your juice and your cereal. I don’t have time to make you anything else this morning.”
Ivy grabbed the glass, her mood darkening quickly at her mother’s tone, and sat down with a huge yawn. She was in the mood for eggs, or waffles, or anything besides cold cereal. This was par for the course this morning.
“Sorry I’m late, Mom. I just can’t seem to get it together today. For some reason I don’t seem to be sleeping well.”
“Ivy, you need to get your sleep. Finals are next week. I expect to see good grades.”
“Yes, Mother. I know.”
Ivy shoveled down a bowl of cold cereal without really tasting it and gulped the orange juice. With a quick look at the clock, she hustled back to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
“Your lunch is on the counter,” her mother called just before she appeared in the bathroom doorway. “Sorry it’s only a sandwich today. Alex was up half the night. I’ve got to get him dressed.”
“Okay, Mom, I’ll get it on my way out.” Yeah, I know he was up, why do you think I didn’t sleep?
Ivy’s parents used to be busy, important people with important things to do. They worked all the time, leaving Ivy lonely and wishing they would spend more time with her.
Her wish came true. Right around the time Ivy started hanging out with Lori and caring about things like how she looked, her parents started spending less time working and more time with her, more time as a family. Ivy wasn’t sure why they did, but she welcomed the change. Two years before, her mother cut back to part-time hours, and her father stopped working weekends. Alex, her baby brother, was almost one year old.
Alex. Cute, pink, chubby-cheeked Alex. A huge drain on her mother’s time. Everybody loved Alex. She loved Alex too. And some part of Ivy knew he was just a baby, so of course he needed attention, but her bad mood this morning seemed to color everything, even how she thought about the little bundle of drool.
Her mother kissed Ivy on top of her head as she breezed by. “Have a nice day at school.”
Ivy’s face brightened a little. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Hurry, please.”
Ivy heaved a sigh and bowed her head, defeated. She wiped her mouth and ran back to the kitchen, grabbed the brown paper bag and stuffed it into her backpack.
Crap. I forgot my English book. What else could go wrong this morning?
She bounded back up the stairs, down the hall to her room and crossed to the desk. The textbook was at the bottom of a pile of papers and other books. Of course. Ivy was usually much better organized, but she was so tired. It wasn’t just her baby brother that disrupted her sleep. Something danced on the edge of her thoughts, something she knew she should remember, but just couldn’t quite get a hold of, like a dream. It was very distracting.
Ivy carefully pulled the English textbook from under its load – but not carefully enough. The pile teetered, then fell. Papers and books spilled to the floor and scattered, as such things are almost guaranteed to do when one doesn’t have time to clean them up.
“Shoot.” She was late, but if her mother came in and saw the mess, Ivy would hear about it after school. Ivy got down on her hands and knees and hurriedly pulled everything into a haphazard pile.
She lay on the floor and put her cheek to the carpet to make sure she had gotten it all. Far under the desk, almost to the wall, something caught her attention. A small, pink, cloth-bound book.
What is that?
She stretched out her arm, gripped the book with her fingertips, and pulled it toward her.
It was as if the book called to her, compelled her to open it. Forgetting completely about her mother, brother, the mess, and the bus, Ivy pulled her long legs close in a tailor’s seat and opened the little book. On the first page was a drawing she made when she was eleven years old.
A tiny girl with shoulder-length blonde hair, wearing a knee-length tunic the same shade of blue as her large eyes. A pair of delicate wings, like those sported by dragonflies, sprouted from the drawing’s back. The girl was not a girl at all, in fact, but a fairy.
She shut the book and stood, turning around in her room, as if she looked for something. Next to the bedroom door was her dresser, and on top, a small wooden jewelry box. Ivy felt drawn toward it, like she had with the journal. As if guided by some unseen force, she flipped open the lid of the box and sifted through the tangle of bracelets, pins and necklaces. She pulled out a thin gold chain. On the end dangled a key. It was not an ordinary key, like the one for her bicycle lock or the front door of her house.
It was a long, gold, old-fashioned skeleton key; the kind that always opens treasure chests in stories about pirates or unlocks the door to the tower where the princess is being kept by the wicked witch.
It had also nearly been forgotten. Ivy slipped it over her head and felt a small charge, like static electricity, the second it touched her skin.
“Ivy!” Her mother’s voice sounded tired and frustrated. “Are you still here? I can’t drive you to school if you miss the bus.”
“What else is new,” Ivy muttered.
“Excuse me, young lady?”
Ivy didn’t realize she said it loud enough for her mother to hear. “Nothing.”
“No, you have something to say, so let’s hear it.”
Before Ivy knew it, a torrent of words rushed out of her mouth. “You never have time to do anything for me, okay? You’re always too busy with Alex. You don’t have time to make breakfast, you can’t drive me to school. I realize he’s a baby, and he needs you more than I do, but we used to do things together. Do you even remember? Do you even care?”
Her mother’s face was stark white. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a baby’s wail.
“We’ll talk about this later, young lady. Get. To. School. Now.”
Ivy, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, stuffed the journal and her English book into her bag. She was mad at herself for exploding like that. What is wrong with me today?
She ran down the stairs, and with a glance into the kitchen, where her mother now fed her baby brother, Ivy stormed out the door.
Some days I wish I could get away from this place.
* * *
The morning continued to be wretched. Amazingly, the bus had been late, too, so she hadn’t missed it. But it was a close call; she had to run flat out to make it.
Her English and History teachers each added two chapters to what would be covered by the exam, which meant she would have to study all weekend. She was late to Biology, which garnered her a stern lecture by the teacher and a tardy slip – something else to argue with her mother about later. To top it off, she couldn’t concentrate – in addition to her troubles and bad mood, lack of sleep made it hard for her to keep her eyes open.
By the time she got to lunch, she was ready to scream, thinking again about how nice it would be to leave her life behind and start over.
As she munched a soggy sandwich, she looked over the journal. She turned to the page with the drawing of the fairy and ran a finger over it. Ivy found herself smiling in spite of her miserable mood. Kaia. It was Kaia who led Ivy to Zandria. Kaia, while trying to avoid becoming a troll’s lunch, accidentally flew through a magical gate that separated Ivy’s world from her own. Kaia led Ivy on the adventure that changed her whole life.
Ivy paged through the journal and suddenly remembered everything. Zandria. The long walk across the Great Plain, a perilous ride on the back of a dragon, and an empress with the face of an angel, trapped deep in an enchanted sleep. The memories were distant, faded like an old photograph.
Ivy wrote it all in the diary almost immediately after her trip so she wouldn’t forget. Now it seemed she had anyway.
How could I forget? Why didn’t I ever go back? She thought about the last three years. She spent most of the time with her family, made friends, and started High School. She supposed teenage worries replaced childhood adventures. That didn’t sound right, though. She should have gone back, even if for just a short visit.
Suddenly she felt guilty. Great, something else to add to my list.
* * *
What seemed to Ivy to be an interminable day was finally over. By afternoon there was no sign the rain had ever been, except for a few small puddles that clung desperately to the ruts along the side of the road. It left behind sunshine, blue sky and harmless, wispy white clouds. With the sun came a sticky heat, a preview of the upcoming summer.
Ivy shuffled home from the bus stop, her rain jacket draped over her arm. She felt a little better. Only a little. Her best friend, Lori, walked beside her.
“I’m so glad it’s Friday.” Lori tossed her jacket into the air and caught it. Lori was a popular girl, and pretty, with a small, upturned nose, violet eyes and straight, dark hair. Beside her Ivy always felt a little plain, like a dandelion that grew beside a rose bush.
Lori spun in the middle of the street, her arms outstretched. “Only one more week of school before summer vacation. Total freedom for two and a half months.”
Even though Ivy generally liked school, after today she was ready for a break too. They approached her house, and her stomach tied itself into a knot. She had never spoken to her mother like she had that morning; she knew she was in trouble. She couldn’t face her mother. Not yet, not until she had a chance to breathe and clear her head.
“Hey Lori, wanna go hang out somewhere?”
“What’s wrong with you, huh? You’ve been, like, grumpy all day.”
“I’ve had the worst day. And I, uh, I had a fight with my mom this morning. I don’t want to go home and deal with her yet.”
“That sucks. Uh, okay, sure. Where do you want to go?”
The key suddenly felt warm against Ivy’s skin, and Ivy remembered the wish she made that morning. “Wanna go for a walk?”
Ivy’s yard, like the others on the block, was large. It was dotted with tall trees whose branches spread across the sky in a canopy of green. The sunlight that did break through painted the lush, green grass with speckles of gold. In a few short weeks, summer would arrive, and the lawn would grow brown and dormant, despite her father’s heroic attempts at lawn care.
The girls quietly dropped their books beside the back door and Lori followed Ivy’s long strides across the lawn. At the very back of the property grew a deep, thick wood with a narrow path.
The path led from Ivy’s backyard to her old elementary school. She traveled it many times, but not recently. When she was younger, she hadn’t been allowed on it at all. Ivy remembered the day she broke that rule, the day she went in search of Kaia.
She hadn’t found the fairy; instead three bullies chased her off the path and deep into the woods. Nearly blind with panic she tripped, fell, and rolled through the open Forest Gate that stood between this forest and the Enchanted Forest in the north of Zandria.
Ivy and Lori stood at the path’s end. The woods were thicker and overgrown, another sign to Ivy she had been away too long.
“Whoa. Um, you want me to go in there?” Lori said, incredulous.
Ivy ignored her – her mind single-tracked and her mission clear. I just want to see if I can still find the gate. I won’t go to Zandria. She didn’t really believe she wanted to run away from home, but she needed to know there was somewhere she could go if she ever really wanted to get away, an anchor she could cling to in the storm that raged inside her.
Maybe it would serve my mother right – make her realize what life would be like without me. The selfish thought echoed in her head for a long while before Ivy pushed it aside.
“Come on.” Ivy took three steps into the woods and beckoned her friend to follow. It was dim and cool beneath the trees, and they blocked out the noises of the world – cars, trucks, people – and left only the soft noises of nature. Her dark and dreary mood ebbed away, and she felt a sense of peace, as if she had already stepped into another world.
Lori interrupted the calm. “Uh, why are we back here? When you said you wanted to go for a walk, I thought you wanted to, like, go to the store or something. Or the mall. I could so go for a trip to the mall.” She swatted at the swarm of tiny gnats that swirled around her head. “I’m not really the outdoors type. I’m allergic to poison ivy. And sumac, and… bugs.”
Ivy almost wished she hadn’t invited Lori along. Lori really did fit in better at the mall than the forest. Ivy just didn’t want to be alone. Not today. She scanned the trees and the ground. “I don’t see anything like that, Lori, except for the bugs. There’s only a few. Go back if you want.”
Lori tossed her head in an indignant way, her hair flipping almost as if it too, were upset. “Don’t be snippy. I guess it’s fine. You never answered my question. Why are we in here?”
Ivy gazed deep into the wood. She was here because she wanted to get away from the world. Now that she was here, however, something tugged at her, called to her. It was the same feeling she had in her room that morning. “I told you, I just don’t want to go home yet.”
“Too bad my pool’s not open yet.” Lori cracked her chewing gum. “We could have gone for a swim instead of this nature walk.”
“The water’s probably freezing.”
“Could have put on our suits, and like, laid out or something.”
“You know all that sun isn’t good for you.”
A pink bubble formed on Lori’s lips and popped. “I know, but I look awesome with a tan.”
Ivy found a small path, one that led away from the main path and deeper into the wood. The sound of their sneakers crunching through the underbrush sounded so loud, as if they were intruding on something sacred.
“Hey, do you hear something?” Lori said.
“I hear lots of things. Birds, bugs…”
“No, I mean something weird.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno. It sounds kind of like…little bells.”
Ivy came to a sudden halt. She didn’t dare hope. No. It can’t be. Could it?
A small, bright ball of light that could only be one thing zoomed through the woods to the left. Ivy sucked in her breath when she heard the distinctive bell-like tinkle of female fairy wings.
Lori stopped swatting the gnats, her hand in mid-swat, and stared at the light. “What the heck is that?”
Ivy suddenly felt eleven years old again. “It’s a friend.” She hoped it was the one friend she longed to see.
The little ball of light darted toward them. Lori threw her arms over her head and ducked. “It’s coming right at us!”
The fairy shot toward Ivy without slowing. Her body came into focus just before it plowed into her chest. A pair of tiny arms wrapped around Ivy’s neck.
“Thank Fortune I found you!” said a small voice Ivy hadn’t heard in three years. “Ivy, we need you. You have to come back!”

Review of Return to Zandria

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Return to Zandria is a wonderfully comfortable fantasy novel that enthralls the reader from the very first page, beginning with young Ivy, whose troubles are all too realistic, but whose compassion and mature integrity are unusual, at any age. Before the reader realises, she is caught up in Ivy's path and rushing along with her, first just to find Zandria again; and then to save the magical world Ivy so remembers with love.

Ivy's perfect foil is her best friend, Lori, who comes along for the ride, against her better judgment, but who is well-grounded in consensus reality and as such, becomes the perfect skeptic to reflect Ivy's morality and faith in Zandria. Even when in the midst of the alternate universe of Zandria, Lori staunchly insists that magic does not exist. This, after meeting a fairy, and passing with Ivy from the near-summer forest near Ivy's home, into a land of harsh, cold, despairing winter.

Ms. Norris has a special talent with character, which almost seems to surpass the excellent plot and vivid descriptive settings. Her protagonists are particularly well-delineated, and they are the kind who promise to linger long in the reader's imagination, peopling it with their further potential adventures, and leaving readers asking, "I wonder what happened to --- next?"

Author Christine Norris skillfully weaves in recollections of Ivy's former sojourn in Zandria, three years earlier, yet does so in such a way that readers can joyfully pace through Return to Zandria as a stand-alone novel. However, only the hardened heart would refuse to read Talisman of Zandria, the first book which recounts Ivy's initial adventures in the magical land. In this reviewer's opinion, the wise reader will rush immediately to read ALL of Author Norris' books!