My birthday's coming up in two days! :) Since hobbits give other people presents on their own birthday, I decided to do the same and give *you* the little gift of posting a short story I wrote, answering a prompt from The Writers' Collective back when Thinklings was doing that.
Music is something that has played, and still plays, a significant role in my life. About 95% of the time, I've got some song or other stuck in my head, and when I listen to my favorite music, familiar and comforting songs, it sends me to a warm, fuzzy, safe place.* I've been doing a lot of "nostalgic listening" lately since the COVID craze began: late '90s and early 2000s stuff, some of which I haven't heard since college!
One of the hardest parts of Hunter’s Moon for me to write was the scene when Mel wakes up after her first transformation. The horror of said transformation itself was, believe it or not, easier for me to write than the aftermath! Because the morning after, Mel has much more time to think and process and dwell on what’s happened to her, since her mind is not being wiped away and the pain is no longer all-consuming.
This week my biz partners and I had a somewhat amusing conversation about my marketing strategy. Thinklings likes to stay positive, friendly, and fun, but there's one area where we will take a negative stance, because people need to be aware that there's a problem that needs fixing . . . and we're trying to fix it! The problem is in the publishing industry, and on our About Us page you can read about what's wrong and how we're working to solve it.
Some months ago, while I was on a Madeleine L’Engle reading (and re-reading) kick, I came across a fascinating quote about fiction. Two of L’Engle’s granddaughters wrote an Introduction that is printed in newer editions of the Austin family books. Here’s the part of their intro that resonated with me, and that I’ve been ruminating on:
I’m a huge fan of fantasy. I grew up on J.R.R. Tolkien books—first, The Hobbit in seventh grade English class, which I adored (the book, the class, and the teacher). As soon as we finished that unit, I grabbed my mom’s copy of The Fellowship of the Ring and quickly devoured it. Then I gobbled up the other two books in the trilogy, racing my friend, à la Legolas and Gimli, and beating her by a few days.* By eighth grade, I was perusing The Silmarillion and Unfinished Tales behind my textbook in algebra class. (That teacher was another favorite. . . . I wonder if he knew/cared what I was really reading, since I was making an A.)
Sarah Awa lives in Ohio with two hairy guys and writes books about werewolves.