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Monday, November 28, 2011

GIVE AWAY!!

GIVEAWAY!!!

In honor of the soon to be released I Am Wolf, I'm giving a necklace away that one of my FAVE characters wear. Alaynee! She is Jonah's girlfriend her favorite color is PINK!!

To win, all you have to do is head to the I AM WOLF page and click like and invite your friends. Have your friends say you sent them and the person with the most, wins. :D

Joann H Buchanan Author: The Kiss Book 2 for I AM WOLF

Joann H Buchanan Author: The Kiss Book 2 for I AM WOLF: The following is a little taste of The Kiss. It is currently in the rewrite phase. Please enjoy this little snippet while I try to break the...

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Inner Peace By Blaze McRob

Inner Peace


     The year was 1966 and the jungle was filled with the stench of napalm and burning vegetation. Chaos reigned: both sides were confused and scrambling to save themselves from the onslaught of the raging battle.

     It was to no avail for far too many. Dead and dieing soldiers littered the landscape. Hell on earth, made even more real by the dancing wickedness of the flames taunting them, showed that Heaven was perhaps nothing more than a myth, an abstract of reality.

     We huddled together for a brief moment, discussing what needed to be done, and then raced to save those we could; those with some kind of flickering glimmer of hope. Sadly, there were not many within reach of a helping hand.

     There were perhaps a dozen of us still able to walk, and we carried the wounded out on makeshift stretchers made from old blankets and whatever other materials we could scrounge up for the purpose. It was a long trek back to rejoin our main command post, but we persevered, ever aware of the hazards ahead. We hadn't even reached the end of the evening before we lost some of our wounded.

     Time. Time was a major factor. It was not working in our favor.

     On the second night, I noticed a young grunt who was in excruciating pain, sounds of its intensity filling the jungle air. His leg . . . his leg was the cause of it all. He was trying to reach it with his hands, almost looking as if he wanted to tear the offending limb from his body.

     I took my knife and cut his pants leg to his ankle. Staring at his tortured face for a couple seconds, I called for my comrades.

     Silence, the horrid silence accompanying impending doom stared us in the face. His leg was obviously full of gangrene. It had to be removed or this young man would die. No need to tell him: we simply had to do it. There were no options.

     Yes, we had no anesthesia; nothing other than a bottle of Jack Daniels. We used it, making sure he was well looped before we cleaned and disinfected the knife in the flames of the fire we had made.

     The time came to do what had to be done, but everyone froze: who could possibly perform the operation? We were soldiers, not medics. I was the youngest, only eighteen at the time, but all eyes focused on me. Shit! The life of this man was in my hands. I had only read of this type of thing, enough to know about tourniquets and such, but I took the knife in my hand and did what was necessary, the pain experienced by the soldier ripping through the jungle.

     He collapsed in to unconsciousness. His torment for the moment was over. We had no way of knowing if we had been in time to save him, but we could hope. There was always hope.

                                                   *    *    *    *

     Forty years later, I was standing on line in a local McDonalds, waiting on my food, when I noticed a man standing in front of me. He was on crutches, one leg missing beneath the knee. His face . . . his face had a familiarity I couldn't place: not at first, anyway.

     He must have felt the glare of my stare on his back because he turned and returned my glance with one of his own.

     "Khe San, 1966," I said.

     "Yes," he said," How did you know?"

     I shuffled around nervously. "Your leg. I'm the one who cut your leg off."

     He stared back at me, intensity building in his stare. "For years, I hated you. I didn't know who you were, but I hated you. You cut off my leg! I wasn't whole. The torture of rehabilitation was unbearable. The thought of revenge if I should ever meet you was what kept me going. Then one day a doctor told me you saved my life and that that was better than dieing in that infernal Hell-hole."

     No more words were said by either of us for about a minute. Then he said, "Thank you, brother! You saved my life. I owe you big time!"

     We stood there and hugged, tears falling unashamedly from both our eyes. We talked for awhile about life and loves won and lost, and we parted ways.

     It doesn't take Thanksgiving to make someone thankful.

     Life. Having life and knowing others made it through the harshest of times is plenty of thanks for me.



Blaze McRob 

I love this story Blaze. Thank you so much for contributing to Thankfulness and Miracles Month on The Eclectic Artist Cave. Huge hugs!
 

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

A Miracle from Ashley Fontainne

How 9/11 Saved My Dad

After hours of being glued to the television on that fateful day, as multitudes of others had been, I tore myself away from those horrific images and walked outside. Everyone at work was either crying or silent with shock. My nerves were raw, my heart was pounding, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I had to have a cigarette.
The staggering heat enveloped me like a wet blanket as I stepped out the door and lit up, but I barely noticed. My mind was too full of thoughts and emotions clouding my head, and the one that kept coming to the surface the most was my dad. I knew it was time.

For the past fifteen years I had been praying for my dad to come to know the Lord. My father was the quintessential atheist who grew up in the turbulent sixties, and viewed faith in anything other than one’s own mind as fruitless and weak. He viewed my salvation as a minor eccentricity, a by-product of my move to backwards Arkansas. One of his favorite responses to me when I broached the subject of faith was that the muggy weather must have warped my brain. I endured his teasing and annoyance in my faith because in my heart I hoped that one day, he would accept Christ.

Many sleepless nights had been spent already by me, as well as my step-mom Cindy, asking the Lord to open his eyes and to let the guard down that surrounded his heart. Our prayers were focused on placing someone in Dad’s life that he would be willing to listen to the truth from. Our discussions with him about salvation over the past years had dwindled to small blurbs, which usually ended with the speaker being ridiculed.
Cindy, however, had been feeling that Dad was starting to get closer, for he was beginning to take interest, albeit fleeting, in her faith. A small question here and there, an interested glance there were the subtle hints that he was becoming less defiant. Less than a month prior to 9/11, we talked about this on the phone, and prayed, asking the Lord to open his heart, and to give us the words to say when the time came.
And now the time had come.

As I stood in the parking lot staring into the blue sky, the enormity of what was going on hit me. I was overcome with the realization that thousands of people had just died horrendous deaths. Life ended in an instant, and at that moment, I knew I had a trip to make. I was heading to Seattle.
I sat down on the picnic table under a pine tree and flipped open my cell phone. With shaking fingers, I dialed Cindy. She answered on the first ring, and before I could even say hello, Cindy said, “It is time.” I wept, because I felt that too, and because I felt the Spirit move deep within my soul. The sweat that was now pouring off me was not from the staggering heat, but rather, from the tremendous weight that I felt settle on my shoulders: I was to be the one that the Lord used. The daughter was now to become the teacher.

After much prayer and planning, four months later I was in Seattle. After driving from Arkansas I was exhausted and road weary, but on an emotional high as well. The blood in my veins was flowing in a way that I had never felt before, almost like an electrical current. All my senses were on full alert. After the preliminary hugs, kisses and unpacking was over, Cindy seemed to instinctively know to retire to bed and leave Dad and me alone. We each grabbed a cup of coffee and headed outside to sit in the cool evening breeze while we visited. I said a silent prayer for strength and guidance as I sat down on the concrete bench. As I did, I felt the strangest sensation of peace come over me, of which I had only felt one other time in my life, which was the day I accepted Jesus into my own heart. The electrical surges in my body were gone, along with the nervous heat that had been building up, replaced with a feeling of total control.

I had my speech well rehearsed. I knew exactly what I was going to say, and was surprised that when I opened my mouth and heard my words, it was as if I was hearing someone else speak. These weren’t my words! Why did I just say that? This isn’t what I planned on saying! The words just started pouring out of me, and for the next three hours, I spoke while my Dad sat and listened. To this day, I can’t recall exactly what I said. The words just came, and I know that God used me to speak directly to my earthly father, for when I was finished, my father knelt down on the hard wooden deck and prayed, asking Jesus to forgive him of his sins and come into his heart. It was the greatest privilege I have ever experienced in my life. I felt humbled and blessed that the Lord had used me to reach another soul for His kingdom, and now I was able to share with my father something that I never could before: eternal life.

The next morning, Dad left for work before I woke up. I was exhausted both emotionally and physically, and slept longer than I should have. But the smell of Starbucks lured me out of my sleep, and I shuffled to the kitchen. Cindy was sitting at the table, literally beaming from ear to ear. And she said nine little words that will always stay with me:

“You answered every single question that he ever had.” Words on paper will never be able to aptly express the tremendous sense of joy, awe, inspiration and just plain thankfulness that I felt, and still do to this day.
As the tears slowly rolled down her face, I felt my own hot tears drip onto my hands. Our tears were those of happiness, for the events of the night before were still fresh in our hearts. We were going to spend eternity with him!

I, as every other citizen in this country, will never forget the images from 9/11. It changed me, our nation, and the world, in ways that we are only just beginning to understand. Each person has a story to tell about how their lives were forever altered as our country was blindsided by terrorists. As for me, it was the catalyst that spurned me on to drive halfway across the country to share the Lord with my father, face to face and heart to heart. And from the ashes of despair arose something more beautiful than I ever thought possible, my father’s salvation.

I want to Thank Ashley for contributing such a beautiful story. 

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Thankfulness and Miracles

A little boy stands in line at the mall, waiting to tell Santa his hopes and secret wishes. He crosses his fingers, hoping beyond all hope that Santa doesn't know about the time he pulled the little girl's pigtails in front of him in class; or the time he ran through the house throwing the ball in the air, breaking one of his mom's favorite little statues. He has the magic of love and laughter we all crave from when we were children. He carries with him the fact that anything is possible and that life is carefree. 

What a picture he paints, that of hope and magic. Oh to travel back to that time and share in the absolute joy of it all without worrying how to pay for it all. 


The miracle of it all is this, magic, hope, joy and giving are all alive if we take the time to share it with those who can't see it. It is the way the angels sing in the heavens through the choirs or even the twinkle we see in the eyes of those we love. It is without a doubt there if we are willing to look. 


About three years ago when I started this blog, I did a miracle and thankfulness month. Man what a month that was. It touched me in such a way that not once did I actually consider giving up on anything else I tried. It was a month that changed my life and allowed me to grow as a person. For this reason and because I really honestly feel I have so much to be thankful for, I would like to open this blog up again to celebrate the miracle of life and all we have to be thankful for. Inspiration comes in all shapes and sizes. Miracles come in every life and every voice that exists. Thankfulness comes in sharing our lives with those we love and meeting new friends. From now until January 1st, I want to share miracles. My hope is that your miracles will inspire others to keep going in rough times. They will inspire us to see the light that is all around us. Most important, they will show us all how connected we really are. 


Miracles are all around us. They are in the life that exists. They are in the joy of our children. The laughter of our friends and the whisper of the angels that visit us from time to time without us knowing it. 


If you would like to share a miracle, a list of things you're thankful for or even just a story of life, please send it to theEAC1@yahoo.com. 


If you ask me, my miracle is my daughter Carolyne. A year ago she was misdiagnosed as having a tumor in her pituitary gland. After all the tests she went through and all the blood draws, we finally were able to get into see the surgeon. When he walked in he told us she did not have a tumor. I have prayed every day since the time I was told about the tumor until now that it would please go away or be easy to take care of. To me, this is a miracle. It could have gone the other way. It is without a doubt something I'm thankful for. I was angry at first when I thought about all the people that missed the signs that it was wrong. Then a friend told me to take a look at it the other way. Was he ever right. I consider this a miracle. I mean really, what if the original doctor would have been right?

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Joann H Buchanan Author: I Am Wolf

Joann H Buchanan Author: I Am Wolf: A little taste of I Am Wolf. The first chapter of this book has been written over several times because I couldn't figure out exactly how I ...

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

How to Write a Memoir with Lisa Dale Norton

I'm going to be having a conversation with Lisa Dale Norton about how to write a memoir. Please see information below and don't forget to join us in the chat room. Also, I Am Wolf is almost ready!! :D

Writing a Memoir and need some tips? Ask Lisa Dale Norton Live!

We all have great stories to share about our lives, and  millions already do
every day via the brief and fleeting  posts and tweets of social media. But
how many of us could translate our life experience into something more
permanent ... say a memoir?

Join bestselling author Lisa Dale Norton for a live front-row seat as she
shares her insights and writing techniques regarding the difference between
memoir and autobiography, how to claim your voice, and the art of
storytelling.

Lisa is the founder of the Santa Fe Writing Institute and teaches writing at
the UCLA Extension Writers' Program.


DATE: NOV. 10th, 2011
TIME: 5:00PM Pacific / 8:00PM Eastern

How to join:
- click widget below
- use the guest tab (not registered users tab)
- enter your name in the guest field
- click enter button to join


Tuesday, November 8, 2011

November Giveaway

The month of November is all about being thankful and appreciating all that you have around you. I think the best thing about the month is that it doesn't matter what religion you are or where you live or even how much money you make; it is something we can all relate to. To top it off there is nothing in the world more inspiring than listening to other people's stories about their own personal miracles or what they are thankful for.

Morrigan Michele and I have teamed up to do a giveaway based on your stories. We want to read what you are thankful for this year and what makes life miraculous. We all have those stories and what better way to kick off the season of miracles than with people who inspire us.

Please write your miracle or story into the comment box and be entered into the contest for some GREAT giveaways! It is our way of showing you how much we appreciate all the people who come in and visit us.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Special Place in my Heart

There are people we meet in life that have so much to offer us as both friends and teachers. For me, that person has been Jack Remick. I met Jack because of my show, The Eclectic Artist Cave. He wrote a book called Blood and came on my show to talk about it. What ended up happening changed the way I looked at writing and how I write forever. See he shared a technique with all of us who were listening, called 5 minute writing technique from a book he read. From there I was hooked on every word he had to say about writing and all the different ways to approach it. So I asked him to come on the show every other Tuesday to share more of his experience and knowledge. When he said yes, I literally jumped up and down! :D
In Jack's own words, "We guide these writers toward discovery."

I used all the techniques he taught me during the show and on the blog to write Soulless Light. I'm also using several to write a series of books called Night Walkers.

I have been completely inspired to keep going in my own personal writing career because of his never-ending belief in all aspiring writers. You see, Jack is part of a writing blog called Bob and Jack's Writing Blog. It is an amalgam of amazing experience from two people who love the art of creative writing.

I'm so excited to announce he has a new book coming out in December!

THE DEIFICATION, BY JACK REMICK

A picaresque novel that pays homage to the legendary San Francisco beat poets. Some of Remick’s influences include Kerouac’s On the Road and The Dharma Bums and Burroughs’ Naked Lunch.
Remick’s novel, Blood (Camel Press, 2011), earned extravagant praise by the critics.
Wayne Gunn wrote on LambdaLiterary.org: “For an author to choose as his explicit models
Camus, Genet, and de Sade ... and to earn the right to be mentioned in their company is [a
goal] that perhaps Jack Remick has indeed achieved.”
A critic for the San Francisco Book Review wrote that Blood is “one of the best books I’ve ever read.”
Author Priscilla Long calls Remick “The Jean Genet of the 21st Century.”
To be a writer in America, you have to bleed. Eddie Iturbi, a young car-thief obsessed with the dark magic of Beat culture in a mythic San Francisco, sets off on a spaced-out crusade to connect with the Beat gods. En route Eddie links up with living legend Leo Franchetti, the last of the Beat poets. 


Leo sends Eddie to the Buzzard Cult where a mysterious mentor Press Release—The Deification, by Jack Remick
reveals the writer’s ritual of blood and words. Changed and invigorated and back in the City,
Eddie falls in love with a snake dancer at the Feathered Serpent. She can’t save him from
Scarred Wanda, jealous bad-girl of literature, whose goal is to destroy Eddie before Jack
Kerouac relays all the magical secrets of the literary universe. Immortality is just a book
away. Will Eddie live long enough to write it?
Says Remick, “I grew up in California’s Central Valley. The Valley was huge but stifling. If
you climbed the water tower one foggy night and the cops hauled you down, it made the
local newspaper. Your one goal was a customized car with a flame job and flipper hubcaps.
You wore Levis or Chinos and you cut your hair short. And then along came Jack Kerouac
and On The Road. Right behind him came William Burroughs, Gregory Corso, Allen
Ginsberg .... On The Road and the Beatniks set me free. Get out of the Valley, they said.
Go find your America. And some of us did. .... This novel, The Deification, pays homage to those
wild men whose vision of the world opened up the social revolution of the 1960s. They
changed me. They changed you. They changed everything.”

Jack Remick is a poet, short story writer, and novelist. The Deification is the first book of a
series, The California Quartet. More volumes will be released by Coffeetown Press in 2012:
Valley Boy, The Book of Changes, and Trio of Lost Souls. Blood, A Novel was published by Camel
Press in 2011. Also coming from Coffeetown in 2012: Gabriela and the Widow. You can find
Jack online at blood.camelpress.com.
The Deification is currently available for pre-order on Amazon.com. After December 10, it will
also be for sale on Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.de, Amazon.fr, and Amazon Japan. The Kindle
edition retails for $5.95.

I'm proud to say that Jack is not just my teacher but also my friend. He is always willing to answer questions and is there for anyone who loves the art of writing. He will forever hold a special place in my heart as my writing guru and a true friend. For those who are interested in writing, please check out the blog that is dedicated to the art and improvement of writing. It is without a doubt one of the most valuable tools you will ever acquire in your own arsenal.

If you feel as inspired as I have along the way, have a conversation with him. Believe me when I say you will not regret it. :)  Jack thank you for all you do for those of us on the path of being a writer, you are an inspiration to all!

 
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