Mothers

~Happy Mother's Day~ 

Mothers are complicated creatures. Some are mothers by choice, some not. Some are biological mothers. Others are mothers out of necessity. And they aren't perfect by any means. These are the messy, complicated mothers I like to write. Mothers who mean well, but have maybe lost their way, by choice or by accident.

One of my favorite moms is Karla, a new widow trying to care for her depressed daughter, Samantha, in The Color of Water.

Somewhere way down deep, I still love Karla. She’s my mom, but there’s no finding my way back to her.  At least, it doesn’t seem like it to me. For now, I follow her around, sometimes her shadow, other times more distant.  She’s not making me finish my junior year of high school.  There’s no way I could have. I guess she knows that cause she never even brought it up.

But this morning, instead of lying in bed until ten like we have been, Karla’s up packing what little we have into the trunk of her Civic.  She’s been worrying for weeks about money and rent and all, but I really wasn’t paying attention before today.  Just before five in the afternoon, we slid into the seats of her car and she started the engine.

“This will be good for us,” said Karla, staring straight ahead at our now former apartment.  She awakened a curiosity in me that hadn’t been there for awhile.

            “Where are we headed, Karla?” I asked. My voice came out soft from lack of use. She didn’t hear me or she didn’t answer anyway.         

“Good bye, Wilmington.  Beaufort, North Carolina, here we come,” Karla said.  She smiled her “I’m pretending I’m happy about this” smile.  She used it a lot where Dad was concerned.

            At least it’s on the water, I thought, slouching down in my seat as I settled back into sleep.  Cars bore me.  I would rather spend my time sailing with Dad.  Karla always accused us of growing gills and fins.

            “This will be good, right?” she said again. I guess she was trying to convince herself it was a good idea.  With a bittersweet smile, she kissed two fingers and touched them to the picture of me and Dad taped to the dash.  Blowing the blonde strands of hair out of her eyes, she backed the Honda out of the driveway and that was it - our lives changed again.

Others mothers are more difficult to love. They do what they think is best, but sometimes they're wrong because they're human. This is Loretta from Crawdad~

Once, she told me he was living under a rock somewhere. To a little kid like me, I figured that meant he must have magical powers to be able to do that. I looked under rocks in the creek behind our house all the time after that, but all I found were crawdads and snails. The crawdads would raise their little claws up to me like they were saying ‘hey’ if they weren’t too busy scuttling away into the muddy water.

Sometimes I’d catch one and keep it in a bucket or the bed of an old wagon. I’d put in rocks and water, make it like a real terrarium, a home for my crawdad daddy, but mama wouldn’t let me bring them in the house. The raccoons usually got them.

I remember when she found me crying over what was left one morning. I gathered up the little bits of shell the coons didn’t eat. Mama came out of the house with a load of laundry in a blue plastic basket propped up on her hip.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked.

“My daddy’s gone,” I whimpered.

“You mean your crawdad?”

“My daddy,” I bawled. My seven year old heart was broken. I carefully pet the little fan-shaped crawdad tail in my palm with a fingertip.

“Your daddy ain’t no crawdad, Jamil. He’s just a plain ol’ sorry ass man,” said Mama. She plopped the laundry basket on the soggy Bermuda grass and started hanging up clothes on the line in our backyard.

“But you said he was a crawdad?” Mama snorted.

“I did? Well, I was just messing with you then.” She went on her merry way, hanging clothes like it was nothing. I don’t even think she knew how she just dropped a bomb in my heart. I let the little fan-shaped tail fall from my hand. It was worse than finding out Santa Claus wasn’t real. My daddy wasn’t any enchanted creature trapped in a crawdad body. He wasn’t even special.

Worse than that, he had arms and legs, but he never even come to see me. Didn’t want to hug me. I could understand a person not being able to visit you if they’d been turned into a crustacean, but he was flesh and blood human. Why didn’t he ever come to see me?

And some mothers fail us completely and others have to step in. Thank goodness for grandmothers. Corrine is raised by her grandmother in Hush Puppy~

Almost as soon as it closed, the screen door opened again and in walked a skinny woman with an anxious expression.

“Mama!” I shouted and bounded to the door; she was looking around like she didn’t know anyone. I was in her arms before I knew it.

“Oh, baby,” she called me, wrapping herself around me. “Happy Birthday.”

It didn’t matter how many times she had disappeared without saying goodbye; I caved like a kindergartener when she came back. It wasn’t until she had been around a few days that I would remember her faults. Memaw never forgot. She was probably somewhere silently cursing, but I didn’t care. I was just happy Mama remembered my birthday at all. Most years, she didn’t.

Mama swayed a little, her high heels wobbly on the uneven linoleum, but she leaned on me and I held her tight.

“You looking so fine, Corrine. You done grown up, girl.” She hadn’t seen me in probably a year and a half.

“You too, Mama.”

The music stopped and Uncle Terrance shouted over the chit-chat.

“Look what the cat drug in! It’s Shawna!”

Mama’s eyes lit up as she made a beeline into his arms. I thought I heard a woman’s voice whisper something about a two-dollar hooker. No doubt, Mama was flashy in skin-tight yellow leggings, giant hoop earrings with the gold paint flaking off, and her hair sculpted high on her head, but I thought she was beautiful. A beautiful disaster.

 Happy day to all the moms out there :)

  

Giving thanks~

It's been a crazy-busy year for me with lots of good happenings, but with set backs too.

My family and I were able to travel this year and had a lovely time.  My garden suffered terribly due to voles and rabbits. It produced almost nothing.

I worked very hard on publishing and writing this year - Vessel was published by a small press, and I self-published The Color of Water and a print version of Storyteller.  I also finished writing two new books and a rough draft of a third. I've queried far and wide, but no takers so far.

I've seen friends get married, welcome new babies, and say goodbye to loved ones forever this year. I've seen things in the news on television/radio/social media that make me question the sanity of the human race sometimes. It's troubling, but that's life. Change comes to all things and all beings. It's not necessarily good or bad; it just is.

Autumn is a natural time of change and it seems fitting that we take this time to think of the good in our lives and to give thanks for it. I wish you a season of love, the warmth of home and family, and above all, peace in your heart and in the world~

Spooky Story for Halloween~

In celebration of the upcoming All Hallow's Eve, I thought I'd share an excerpt from my newest paranormal novella The Color of Water. Set on the North Carolina coast, it's the story of Samantha who loses her dad at sea and finds herself trying to protect her mom from a supernatural beast most everyone else believes is a real human. Enjoy~



~from Chapter 8~



On the sidewalk in front of us, a man leaned on an iron fence, half hidden in a bougainvillea vine. I smelled him before I could really see him, a weird mix of pipe smoke and alcohol and something salty like seaweed. The silky voice told me who it was before he leaned forward into the light of a nearby house.

“Pardon me, miss. Didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, reaching out two nut brown hands to Karla. As Teach caught her hands in his own, I saw a tattoo on his forearm in the moonlight – a blue demon stabbing a heart across his rippling muscle. He gently steadied Karla, ignoring me.

“It’s fine,” Karla said. “I should watch where I’m going.”

Teach stood there, holding onto Karla’s hands, staring deep into her eyes like a lover. No one was allowed to look at my mom like that, not while I was standing there.

“Do you mind taking your paws off my mother?” I said, forgetting any warning Matt might have given me.

“I’m only trying to help,” he said, releasing her finally. “Perhaps I can make it up to you?”

“No really, its fine,” insisted Karla, trying to move past him. He caught her by the shoulders, holding her close to him.

“Can I see you again?” he begged in an urgent whisper.

“Let her go, you creep!” I yelled.

“A little something to remember me by,” he purred in her ear, a chunky gold bracelet emerging from his jacket pocket draped across his thick fingers. I was sure it was the exact same bracelet I pitched in the ocean weeks ago. He moved to lay it over her wrist. Without thinking, I snatched it away.

“Run Karla!” I yelled as I pushed my mom’s shoulder. She took off toward home as Teach turned his eyes to me. Even in the dim moonlight, I could see his crazy eyes, aqua blue like some stormy Caribbean Sea.

“Give it back, Samantha,” he said like a parent to a naughty child, patient but annoyed.

“How do you know my name?” I stalled.

“I know many things about you. I know you foolishly meddle in things you know nothing about, for instance,” he said, moving toward me, his eyes locked on mine. His words stung me.

“What is this thing?” I said, holding up the chain. If it wasn’t Louise’s bracelet, it was just like it. “Do you give it all the women you plan to kill?”

Teach laughed, a low chuckle, still coming toward me as I backed away, stumbling over the cracked sidewalk into the street.

“You might say that,” he admitted. “But I don’t give it to anyone who doesn’t welcome it.”

“Who welcomes death?”

“You’re young. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Now give it to me,” his tone growing more insistent. I held the bracelet behind my back.

“Not until you promise to leave my mother alone,” I said, my voice quivering like a leaf in the wind. The energy radiating off Teach now burned my skin, like standing too close to an open fire.

“I don’t make bargains with little girls. What’s mine is mine,” he snarled, his skin tightening over his skull and then evaporating to reveal the bones underneath. His blue eyes burned like coals in the darkness, inhuman and unnatural. The heat felt like it would scorch my eyebrows off. I fell as he swung at me, screaming.

Happy Halloween!!

The Fact behind the Fiction of The Color of Water

Everyone's heard of Blackbeard, right? The terrible pirate? Hollywood staple pirate character? But did you know that Blackbeard was a real person named Edward Teach? I remember as a kid thinking he was just a cartoon-ish character and being amazed to learn he was real. You can read all about him on Wikipedia.  Born in 1680, he only lived to be about 35 or 40 years old because he was finally captured and beheaded in 1718. Perhaps because it was so long ago, he's become the stuff of legends? Even his flag is kinda creepy.

The ghost of Blackbeard is the main baddie in my new novella The Color of Water. He was such delicious fun to write, re-imagined as a modern day biker. Here's a sneak peek of my heroine, Samantha, unexpectedly seeing Blackbeard, aka Teach, on the streets of Beaufort ~


    The summer sun was still hot enough to make me sweat, but it was cooling down as the shadows got longer. The rain had left steamy puddles along the sidewalks, but the sky was clearing just like Matt said it would. Seeing nothing unusual at the Queen Ann’s, I kept walking, turning down an alley to avoid all the tourists on Front Street. That’s where I saw them – a man and a woman having a hella fight in the alley. My heart jumped up into my throat when I realized it was Harley man – Teach.

    I ducked behind a dumpster and tried to blend into the back of a building. It didn’t seem to matter to Teach and his lady friend because their screaming argument suddenly dissolved into a groping, kissing thing. I couldn’t stop staring at them. Teach’s beefy, tattooed arms wrapped the woman like an octopus’s tentacles, his fingers snaking through her God-awful, red-orange dye job. She didn’t seem to mind. She kissed him like she was starving and he was a steak dinner. After coming up for air, they stumbled back inside the building.

    I saw the door was printed with ‘No one under 21 admitted’ as I hurried past. If he was going to kill her, he would have done it right there, wouldn’t he? I resolved not to tell Matt about it, since he obviously didn’t want me anywhere near Teach. I didn’t want to risk making him mad again. I picked up my pace, running a few blocks so I wouldn’t be late.

You can find The Color of Water in print and ebook on Amazon and Goodreads! Enjoy~

How an internet meme can help you write a better story~

I'm sure you've read a million quotes on the internet by now. Some of them are great advice, but you've read them so many times you don't even notice them anymore, do you?

One of the most ubiquitous is "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle you know nothing about." or some variation on that idea. I saw it again the other day, but I had to google it to find out who actually said it. (It's Ian Maclaren for the record.)

Obviously, it's always good to be kind, but what does the saying have to do with writing? Its the second truth in the quote that struck me - "everyone is fighting a hard battle."

When you craft the characters of your novel, each one should be fighting their own secret fight, whether it's obvious what that is or not. Even better if its a secret that's revealed to the reader along the way.

Think of all the people you know, in real life and online. All of them have secrets they're keeping for some reason. They may desperately love someone who doesn't know. They may be hiding a mental illness or a sexual orientation. They may have unhealthy addictions or even harmless ones. The point is, you don't really know, do you? But these secret struggles or preoccupations are the motivation for our actions and behaviors, whether we admit it or not. They form the fabric of our character.

So if you want to create a living, breathing fictional character, it makes sense to ask yourself "What secret fight is my character fighting? Do their friends and family know what it is? What would happen if they found out? And how does that affect the plot?

Steven King says a good book doesn't give up all its secrets at once. Neither does a good character.

In my latest southern Gothic novella, The Color of Water, Samantha is fighting many battles with herself and her past. I hope you'll check it out on Amazon and add it on Goodreads. 

The Color of Water Giveaway

The cure for anything is saltwater –

sweat, tears, or the sea.

~Isak Dinesen

I love the sea. I've always loved it, although I haven't always lived near it. I once thought I'd grow up to be an oceanographer or a marine biologist, but fate had other plans for me. And truth be told, the ocean can be a frightening thing. I'm always in awe of the men and women who are brave enough to sail it. I enjoy riding in boats, but I'm always glad to get back to dry land. I'm truly happiest on a beach.

My latest southern gothic novella, The Color of Water, was inspired by a trip to the North Carolina coast a few years back and a visit to the historic town of Beaufort. Beaufort is just about as old as a town gets in North America, founded in 1709. It's seen the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and everything since. With all that history, you can imagine what a great graveyard it had. And ghosts. Lots of places in North Carolina have ghosts, but Beaufort has the best in my opinion. Pirates, merchants, soldiers, and little girls - there's just about any type of ghost you might want there.

So Beaufort combines two things I adore - the ocean and history. When I visited, I knew immediately it would be the setting for my next book. The Color of Water is a novella, so it's the perfect length for a rainy, fall afternoon, cozying up on the couch with a ghost story. Fans of love triangles and super sweet teen romance may be disappointed. The story is very much about the ebbs and flows of life and death, about holding on and letting go. It's also about the connection of a parent to a child, so while there are some elements of a first love, it's also about much more. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

~About the Book~

Life is unpredictable. Why would death be any different?

Sixteen year old Samantha’s Dad died in a sailing accident and her Mom’s moving them to the sleepy, backwater town of Beaufort, North Carolina, so they can make a new start. Afraid to sail again, Samantha takes her mind off the past by trying to solve the mystery of who's killing young women on the island, only the killer is way more than your ordinary psychopath.

Turns out, the blood-thirsty ghost of Blackbeard returns to Beaufort on the high tide to collect the souls of beautiful young women and now he wants her mom. With only the help of a two-bit psychic and the ghost of a young, drowned sailor she might be falling in love with, Samantha struggles to save her mother. But Sam has some demons of her own to conquer first.

  ~ From Chapter One ~

   It’s funny what you notice when you’re dying. It’s not your breath or your heartbeat, or the ripple of your mind slowly coming undone. It’s what you love. For me, it’s the color of the water. First, it’s green like bottle glass. Then it’s deep, dark blue-black, like a midnight sky.

   The water seeps into my ears blocking everything else out. It creeps into my clothes, through the strands of my hair. It invades my nose, my mouth, and slides into my lungs, into my stomach. It envelopes me, claims me as its own. I’m going with it.

   And then something jerks me back. In the murky water, I can barely see what it is through my salt-blinded eyes. It’s Dad. He’s got me. He’s tugging on my vest, trying to unhitch the tether and I wonder why. Something breaks free and he pulls me up with him. The vest I’m wearing pops me up to the surface like a cork.

   On the surface, my lungs vomit out searing salt water, even as more angry waves bash us against the hull of the sloop. She’s completely upside down. Dad’s pushing my limp arms up on The Tempest, trying to make me grab a hold of something, anything to keep my head above water.

~***~

To celebrate the release, two lucky winners will win a free copy of the print book or e-book - your choice! Be sure to enter :)


a Rafflecopter giveaway

You can always find The Color of Water on Amazon :) and Goodreads! and if you'd like to learn more about me, Lisa Cresswell, please visit my web site. Enjoy!

The Color of Water Cover Reveal~

The cure for anything is saltwater –

sweat, tears, or the sea.

~Isak Dinesen

I'm so excited to release my newest novella "The Color of Water" today! The cover is finally ready to share with you, so without further adieu, here it is~

Isn't it beautiful?! Of course, I think all my book babies are beautiful. :)

I love the color of the water in it, just as Samantha, my new heroine, loves the sea.

In the next few weeks, I'll be blogging more about the upcoming release, as well as hosting a giveaway for a copy of the book. If any of my fellow bloggers/friends/readers would like an advanced reading copy in exchange for a review, please contact me! I'm happy to guest post too, if you'd like.

Here's a bit about the story:

Life is unpredictable. Why would death be any different?

Sixteen year old Samantha’s Dad died in a sailing accident and her Mom’s moving them to the sleepy, backwater town of Beaufort, North Carolina, so they can make a new start. Afraid to sail again, Samantha takes her mind off the past by trying to solve the mystery of who's killing young women on the island, only the killer is way more than your ordinary psychopath.

Turns out, the blood-thirsty ghost of Blackbeard returns to Beaufort on the high tide to collect the souls of beautiful young women and now he wants her mom. With only the help of a two-bit psychic and the ghost of a young, drowned sailor she might be falling in love with, Samantha struggles to save her mother. But Sam has some demons of her own to conquer first.

  ~ From Chapter One ~

   It’s funny what you notice when you’re dying. It’s not your breath or your heartbeat, or the ripple of your mind slowly coming undone. It’s what you love. For me, it’s the color of the water. First, it’s green like bottle glass. Then it’s deep, dark blue-black, like a midnight sky.

   The water seeps into my ears blocking everything else out. It creeps into my clothes, through the strands of my hair. It invades my nose, my mouth, and slides into my lungs, into my stomach. It envelopes me, claims me as its own. I’m going with it.

   And then something jerks me back. In the murky water, I can barely see what it is through my salt-blinded eyes. It’s Dad. He’s got me. He’s tugging on my vest, trying to unhitch the tether and I wonder why. Something breaks free and he pulls me up with him. The vest I’m wearing pops me up to the surface like a cork.

   On the surface, my lungs vomit out searing salt water, even as more angry waves bash us against the hull of the sloop. She’s completely upside down. Dad’s pushing my limp arms up on The Tempest, trying to make me grab a hold of something, anything to keep my head above water.

You can find it on Amazon :) and Goodreads! Enjoy! And for other great giveaways, click the Linky below :)

Paranormal Romance for Halloween? Yes!

My paranormal romance novella The Color of Water is finally coming to print and e-book this fall! Nothing like a good ghost pirate story to enjoy the Halloween season, right?? What's it about, you say?

Here's the book blurb~

Life is unpredictable. Why would death be any different?

Sixteen year old Samantha’s Dad died in a sailing accident and her Mom’s moving them to the sleepy, backwater town of Beaufort, North Carolina, so they can make a new start. Afraid to sail again, Samantha takes her mind off the past by trying to solve the mystery of who's killing young women on the island, only the killer is way more than your ordinary psychopath.

Turns out, the blood-thirsty ghost of Blackbeard returns to Beaufort on the high tide to collect the souls of beautiful young women and now he wants her mom. With only the help of a two-bit psychic and the ghost of a young, drowned sailor she might be falling in love with, Samantha struggles to save her mother. But Sam has some demons of her own to conquer first.

Want to join the blog tour? Let me know :)

and be sure to follow me on Goodreads for updates on the release!

The Color of Water~

Well peeps, I've finally gone and submitted my latest novel, The Color of Water, to a publisher. It's been a long time coming!  I think the original idea for the story hit me back in 2010 while visiting the North Carolina coast. I've been working on it off and on ever since, but this last year I told myself: "Enough! This will get finished and get out there!"

If you haven't guessed, it's a paranormal, young adult tale with pirates, and ghosts, and a bit of romance. Beaufort, North Carolina - one of the three oldest towns in North Carolina - is the setting. It's perfect because the town's history and plentiful ghost stories provide a deliciously gothic, Southern location.

 

 

I don't want to give too much away since I'm currently querying it, but if I find that no one wants to publish paranormal stories right now, I'll self publish. I've worked too hard to let stuff languish unseen anymore. I write to be read. :) So stay tuned, dear reader!  The best is yet to come~