Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Traveling Wednesday....

Once every few months, I take time to get together with another write and work on up coming submissions. Sort of plan your strategy day. When we lay out our calendars and our lists of stories, it rivals the Eisenhower's planning of the invasion of Europe for D-Day. So, today is that day.

If you live in Tidewater Virginia and happen to be in Barnes and Noble at Greenbrier between 11:15 and 11:45 look for the short person wearing a black T shirt that says 'WRITER'. Come up and say "Hi, Tessa."

Leaving you with a snippet of My Crimson release  Eight Seconds to Glory...

He caught her gazing into his eyes. Those limpid pools of blue held a secret desire. He
looked closer hoping to see what it might be. He took a deep breath, like a man prepared
to leap off a tall cliff, and held it. The air between them seemed charged with a different
type of electricity. Anticipation curled up his spine. She was so beautiful. Standing there
in an over-sized pajama top and shorts, she looked better than any of those models he'd
seen strutting underwear on TV. His body thought so too, for his libido seemed to roar to
One arm reached out and encircled her shoulders. He felt her lean into him and place
an open palm on his chest, which did little to still his wildly beating heart. Without a
word, he lifted her off the ground and into his arms. Concentrating on her face, he moved
toward the bed. One knee upon the mattress and the springs murmured, welcoming his
weight. He stopped, wondering what she might think, but the gentle curl of her lips put
his mind at ease.
Glory's arms didn't move as he placed her down. He stared at her; a soft blush of want
covered her cheeks and her eyes focused on his lips. This was the moment of
commitment. If he had any doubts, he should say so and not further disappoint her. But
the words didn't come. Spellbound, he stared at her open expression of desire. The gap in
the V of her T-shirt gave him ample view of the rise and fall of her breasts, and he
realized she felt this, too.
“Make love to me, Travis.”
Her fingers found his lips. “I'm a big girl. I know what I'm asking.”

Hope to hear from you all soon. 


Thursday, October 18, 2012


My husband's grandfather had a unique saying. "You can fall anytime of the year, but Autumn comes only once." As I watch our leaves begin to turn here on the East Coast, I'm struck by how this season has lost the word "autumn" to become just fall.

Autumn has a crisp sound. It sings to my soul. It speaks of days gone by when the neighborhood children would get together and we'd rake leaves making forts to play in. After a week, the decomposition of the leaves would settle the huge piles from shoulder to waist. Another week and they'd be to our knees. At that time they would be raked into a pile to do the "Charlie Brown" jump in before our parents place them in the outside rubbish bins to burn.

Autumn's days would dwindle. Dusk came quickly. By 4:30, we'd be inside or on the back porch doing homework while she smells of hot hardy meals drifted out the screen door to tempt us inside. Sweatshirts would give way to light jackets. Which we worried would ruin our outfits for All Hallows Eve. You couldn't give any hints. Your outfit was as top secret as any government covert operation. Oh, the memories, the fun shared in a community.

 Ah, Autumn, I remember you well.