Cover Reveal

For the last couple of years, I've been working on my Rumpelstiltskin retelling, Golden Gown. Inspired by the portrayal of Rumple in the television series Once Upon a Time, I wanted to create my own Rumpelstiltskin tale featuring him as the hero. My longtime love, Gilbert Blythe (from Anne of Green Gables) crept in and made the mischievous imp truly lovable. Then I make Rumple into a Spaniard and Gilberto De La Vega was born.

My heroine, Elyse Morley, is based primarily on my grammy, Elsie Caraway, and secondarily on all the Boucher and Caraway women. Elyse is patient, hardworking, talented, and has a good sense of humor. However, like all the women in my family, when Elyse is cornered, her latent temper comes out.

Here's her story:

Elyse has lost everything; her parents, her family home, and the village where she is loved and respected. Still grieving, she arrives in a new town where she must prove her skills as a seamstress. Overnight, she creates a gown stunning enough to catch the princess’s eye and win the community’s approval. With every eligible maiden clamoring for her designs, Elyse must do everything in her power to appease them. 

No one can ever know that in the moments when she doubts her abilities, a mysterious stranger with a talent for tailoring and a penchant for damsels in distress comes to her aid. If anyone ever discovers the truth, her reputation will be ruined.

Golden Gown will be available May 2019 and a number of great events will run through May and June. Stay tuned! There will be more fun to come!

Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies IV

Twelve sisters. Twelve personalities. Twelve times the trouble. 

We've met ten of Lord Bromhurst's daughter in Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies I, Meet the Ladies II, and Meet the Ladies III. Today sweet Krisela--whose affection for animals exceeds her love for human company--reveals a secret of her own. And Lady Larela, possibly the most mischievous of the bunch, may be falling in love. On with the story! 

* * *

Lady Krisela

“You like that, don’t you boy?” Brutus lapped up the water like he’d run all over creation. Would my father never learn to care for his hunting dogs? Caesar nudged Brutus out of the way. They reminded me of the triplets, always vying for a place.

“Now, now,” I said, patting Caesar’s black head. “There’s plenty for everyone, boy.”

“You have a way with them,” a deep voice said.

My nerves zinged. I hazarded a glance behind me. It was enough to confirm my worst fears. But why would Lord Whatsits spare any time for me? I was only fourteen.

“I’ve fine hunters of my own, My Lady. Have you any tips on managing them?”

I kept my eyes glued on the dogs who were still pushing one another to get to the water. I knelt to dump the rest of the bucket full of water into their dish. I stayed on my knees with one hand on each animal.

“You’re a shy one aren’t you, My Lady?” The low voice hummed with innuendo. “I’ve always liked a challenge.”

I closed my eyes tightly. Please don’t do it. Please don’t do it. Please don’t do it.

He shuffled nearer. I could feel him behind me. There was only one thing to do. I leaned forward so only the dogs could hear me. “Get him, boys!”

They tore off, nearly toppling me in the process. Wild yelps sounded followed by a not-so-manly shriek. I turned to watch the nobleman lolloping across the grounds like an ungainly giraffe. The dogs were nearly at his heels. 

“Do it! Come on, boys!” I whispered. With a leap, Brutus sank his teeth into Lord Whatsits’s derriere. A chortle of laughter broke free. I laughed until my sides hurt. 

* * *

Lady Larela

He brushed his moist lips over the back of my hand and cultivated the same sultry smolder he’d poured on everyone between my father and me. 

Blech.

It didn’t matter that he was attractive, wealthy, and well-dressed. Leftovers and hand-me-downs weren’t my style. With eleven sisters it was practically impossible to stand out. All the same I refused to be just another pretty face.

The nobleman turned back to the more eligible females in my family without giving me another second of his attention. I cast a wistful glance toward the gardeners. Green eyes caught mine and held. I glanced away but I couldn’t stop my lips from twitching upward.

“Lari?” Krisela whispered. Everyone else had headed back inside. Hopefully they wouldn’t miss me.

“I’ll be right there, Kris. I’m just taking a turn around the flower garden to clear my head.”

“All right,” she said with the knowing smile. She’d cover for me if it was necessary.

I headed down the path. Out of habit, I felt for the note tucked in my sash. It crinkled comfortingly beneath my touch. By now the staff should be headed back to their posts. I opened the single sheet and scanned the familiar lines. 

Fairest Lady . . . I closed my eyes, pressed the note to my heart and recited the words from memory. A rush of pleasure danced in my stomach. I didn’t care that the poetry was atrocious.  I pressed my lips to the name scrawled at the bottom and grinned.

A girl never forgets her first love letter. 

* * *

We've reached the final installment of the Midnight Sisters: Meet the Sisters series. Revisit the other posts to learn more about Kris and Lari's elder sisters.

Meet the Sisters I (Ari, Bree, and Cinnamon)

Meet the Sisters II (Daniela and the twins, Estella and Frizella)

Meet the Sisters III (Janela and the triplets, Gisella, Hayla, and Isella)

And coming soon: The Gentlemen of Midnight Sisters. Learn about the men featured in Midnight Sisters and discover what they've been hiding. 

Midnight Sisters is available on Amazon. Contact me directly if you'd like a signed copy. I'm running a bargain bundle price for Midnight Sisters and Becoming Beauty! 

Thanks for reading!

Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies III

Women are rarely at a loss for words. The Midnight Sisters certainly never are. 

Join the triplets and Lady Janela as they reveal secrets about themselves and their history. When the triplets are on the scene, someone is bound to be injured and/or maimed. For the first part of Janela's scene, read about her adventure with Daniela in Midnight Sisters: Meet the Sisters II.

* * *

Ladies Gisella, Hayla, & Isella

“It’s mine!” Gisella snatched the toy horse from Hayla and bopped her on the head with it. Hard. Hayla began crying at the top of her lungs.

“Meanie!” Isella screeched, grabbing at the horse. Gisella yanked back. Isella let go of the toy and it smashed into her sister’s cheek. Gisella erupted into tears.

Poor toy horse. Stubby bits hung from its hind end where the tail should be. Did I imagine the pained look on its wooden face?

“Markus!” From the sharp edge in her voice, I could tell it wasn’t the first time Mrs. Jenkins had called my name.

“Yes, Mrs. Jenkins?”

She cradled a blubbering Gisella in her arms. The girl sported a goose egg on her forehead and the beginnings of a nasty bruise on her cheek. The look on Mrs. Jenkins’s face said, When will they hire a proper nanny? “I’m taking Lady Gisella inside to have her seen to. Will you mind the other two, Markus?”

My spine went rigid. The thought of being alone with the miniature monsters terrified me to my core. My wooden lips formed the words anyway, “Of course, Mrs. Jenkins.” 

* * *

Ladies Hayla & Isella

The two small girls blinked up at me, their eyes round and brimming with innocence.

“Ladies,” I nodded down at them, forcing my lips into a smile. I straightened my livery and tucked my hands behind my back. They could probably smell fear.

“Want to play?” Isella shook the toy horse. I could have sworn the horse leered at me.

I swallowed. “Of course, Lady Isella.” I dropped into a squat before her. Isella trotted the horse over my knees, making various snorting noises.

“No!” Hayla snatched the toy from her sister. “Horsey say, ‘niegh, neigh!’” She pranced Horsey in the air to demonstrate.

Rage glimmered in Isella’s eyes and her rosebud mouth tightened into a dot. Dread pooled in my stomach. “He’s mine!” she screamed and grabbed for the toy. Was it just my imagination or did Horsey flinch? Hayla kept a tight hold on the toy. Back and forth Horsey went. Then with a mighty heave, Isella yanked the horse from her sister’s grasp and let out a cry of triumph. 

But it was too soon. She had pulled too hard. The toy arced through the air, flying out of her grasp. It fell impossibly slow.

My first instinct was to protect the girls. I covered each of their heads with an arm. I tipped my head upward.

“Owwwww!” I howled, clapping a hand to my eye. Tears poured down my face. “I can’t see! I can’t see!” Small people scurried off. At the same moment a larger form shuffled up to me. 

Mrs. Jenkins sighed. “Oh, Markus. Will you never learn?” 

* * *

Lady Janela
My younger sisters tootled over. Their matching pink frocks made them look sweet, I thought. But their cranky expressions and smelly diapers did not. Daniela had gone inside, leaving me to clean up the mud pie mess. And deal with the triplets.

“Hello, girls,” I said brightly, trying not to frown at the smell they brought with them.

“Jani?” one of the tiny terrors said. She reached a grubby hand into the mud-caked can and drew forth a brown-speckled palm.

“No!” I grabbed the hand before she popped it in her mouth. I wiped it on my muddy apron.

Her lip quivered and her large eyes filled with tears. Her mouth opened and a loud waaaah came out. The other two girls picked up the cue and began crying too. I clapped my hands to my ears and squeezed my eyes shut. Why did Dani have to leave? I’d have to do something myself.

“Want a tweat, girls?” I pointed toward the pan containing our mud pie. It looked good enough to eat.

“Ooh,” another of the terrors cooed, shuffling over to where the pie sat baking in the sun. The other two left off crying to investigate.

I swiped a finger over the mud pie and popped it into my mouth. “Mmmm . . .” Dirt clung to my tongue. I tried not to choke on it.

The first sister thrust a fat hand into the mixture. One of the other triplets grabbed her by the hair and pulled her backwards. More crying followed as the first sister landed flat on her bottom. The third triplet shoved both of them out of the way to get to the pie. She planted her face in it. The other two attacked, wailing as they dragged at her pink frock to get a taste of pie.

Engrossed in the treat and resulting tussle, they didn’t see me sneak off. Their wailing grew quieter as they gorged themselves on our latest creation. I smothered my grin with one hand. I couldn’t wait to tell Dani. 

* * * 

Learn more about the Midnight Sisters' adventures in Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies I, Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies II, and Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies IV. 

Read the whole story in Midnight Sisters, now available on Amazon. Please contact me directly if you'd like a signed copy!

  

Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies II

No matter how long the book may be, there is always more story to tell. Midnight Sisters is no different. 

We've already read about Ari, Bree, and Cinnamon and the romance, sorrow, and high jinks of their past, today Lady Daniela and the twins, Estella and Frizella, take the stage. Whenever the twins are on the scene, mischief is sure to follow, but studious, mild-mannered Daniela may surprise you as well. 

* * *

Lady Daniela

“The recipe says to add more.”

Janela turned wide eyes on me.

“Don’t worry. It will be fine,” I reassured her.

With one dimpled hand, she dropped another handful of powder into the can.

“Now mix until well combined,” I directed.

Janela inserted the long-handled spoon into the can and began to stir. The ingredients clanked disconcertingly against the sides. Janela stopped and peered into the can. Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Mo’ wata?”

I peered into the can. “You’re right, it does need more water.” I dumped a cupful of water into the can.

Janela continued to stir, stopping only occasionally to make sure the mixture was coming together. “Weaves?” she asked.

“Yes, I’ve prepared the leaves,” I said, motioning to the herbs I’ll filched from the kitchen gardens. “Let’s place it in the pan first.”

Janela nodded. She pulled out the tin pan Cook had given us and proceeded to dump the batter into it. The mixture glooped and clunked into the pan. Janela’s nose crinkled up. “Gwoss.”

“It just needs to be smoothed out.” I applied the long-handled spoon to the mixture and worked away at it until no lumps remained. “Better?”

“Yeth,” Janela lisped. At four-years-old, she still hadn’t mastered s. “Weaves now?”

I passed her the leaves. Together we placed them atop the batter in a pleasing pattern. “Now it looks like a proper pie.”

“Bake it?” Janela asked.

I consulted the directions scrawled on the page. “It says, ‘leave in the sun for four days or until firm.’”

Janela nodded again. “Tathte it?”

I shook my head, my own nose crinkling up. “We don’t eat mud pies, Jani, no matter now pretty they are.”

A mischievous look crossed her round face. “The girls?”

“The triplets?” I thought of the tiny menaces in their matching outfits. From the whining, crying, and screaming issued from nearby, someone was pulling someone’s hair and someone else needed a diaper change.

I grinned back at Jani. “I think they’d love a taste.”

Jani’s burbling giggle filled the air, so infectious I had to join in.

* * *

Lady Estella

We bent our heads together. “There has to be one someplace,” I whispered. “This place is too big.” We had been in the manor for one month. One whole month and we still couldn’t find any secret passageways.

“It’s like a fairy tale, Essie.” She patted a well-worn book fondly, her eyes twinkling at me. “Or a mystery.”

“And we love mysteries.” We said together, sharing identical grins.

“If only we had a fairy godmother . . .” I mused.

Fritz spread the handmade map between us. “We’ve looked here.” She pointed at the attic.

“And there.” I motioned toward the servants’ staircase.

“And in the ballroom.”

“Remember how we almost got caught?” Her shoulders shook with silent giggles, just as they had when we ducked behind the curtains before Father strode by.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my own laughter. 

Fritz’s grin faded as she turned back to the map. “Hmmm . . . maybe in the kitchens?”

“Then we’d have to talk to Cook,” I replied. “She’s no fairy godmother.”

“And we probably couldn’t talk her out of a treat.” She propped her chin on her fist. “It’s not fair. She makes the best cookies.”

“Mmmm . . .” we said in unison. “Cookies.”

I grinned. “The pantry would be the perfect spot for a secret passageway!”

Essie’s eyes grew wide. “Or a cookie jar!”

“Let’s do it!” I rolled up the map and hurried after my sister. Hand in hand, we tiptoed down the servants’ stairs and toward the kitchen. We paused outside to listen and peep in the door. Kitchen girls and servants scuttled in all directions. We waited until they were all distracted. At the same moment, we looked at one another and mouthed, “Now!” Together we crept into the kitchens.

* * *

Lady Frizella

Minutes later we rushed outdoors, our hands full of cookies and our bellies full of laughter. We ran over the grounds and climbed up our favorite tree, the one directly in front of our rooms. We stuffed our mouths with Cook’s delicious cookies and laughed in triumph.

“Cook must have magical powers,” Essie said, licking the crumbs off of her fingertips.

“Maybe. But it’s not enough to keep her treats safe from us,” I replied, stuffing the last cookie in my mouth.

Essie took the map from me, shook off the crumbs, and spread it across her lap. “It just doesn’t make sense. We’ve looked everywhere.”

I looked over at the bank of windows before us, trying to piece the puzzle together. Then I squinted at the map. “Wait a minute . . . does that look wrong to you?”

Essie huffed. “Fritz, you know the map’s not to scale. Father wouldn’t allow us to use his tools. ‘What use would nine-year-olds have with cartography instruments?’”

“It isn’t that,” I hurried to explain. “Look at the outside wall. Doesn’t it seem too . . . wide?”

She followed my gaze. “I never noticed that before. Let’s go investigate!”

We scrambled down the tree and flew over the lawns. The unrolled map flapped behind us. A quick trip up the stairs brought us to our rooms. Luckily all our sisters and maidservants were out.

The air whooshed out of me when I faced the wall. It looked the same as all the rest. “I guess I was wrong, Es.”

“Just a minute.” Essie ran her hands over the wall, then began tapping. She turned wide eyes to me when the sound changed.

“It’s hollow!” we crowed.

I joined my sister, tapping until I found something else. “Essie, it’s colder!” She placed her hand where mine had been, on the place where the outside wall joined the back wall and moved her palms up and down slowly. After a moment, a gentle click sounded. Part of the wall moved, opening outward onto a dim chamber.

Our eyes met. Together we whispered, “The secret passageway!” 

Maybe we had a fairy godmother after all.

* * *

Revisit Lord Bromhurst's eldest daughters in Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies I. Also, read about all the rest of the sisters in Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies III and Meet the Ladies IV. And as always, you can claim your own copy of Midnight Sisters on Amazon or you can contact me for a signed copy.

Thanks for reading! More sister adventures are on the way!

Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies I

Each of Lord Bromhurst's twelve daughters has her own chapter in Midnight Sisters. However, that's barely enough to express who she is or to explain the unique role she fills in her family.

That's why I crafted mini scenes featuring each of the main characters for Midnight Sisters' blog tour. Each scene reveals something new about each of the three of the sisters. Today, Ladies Ariela, Brisella, and Canela are on display.

* * *

Lady Ariela

I clutched her hand between mine and blinked to hold back the tears. She shifted on her pillows, a tiny sigh escaping. The angel smile lit her face but pain nestled in the fine wrinkles about her eyes.

“Ari.” The word was barely more than a breath. “I’m so sorry, my darling. I wish I could stay.”

I bit my lip to hold the sob in. She reached a shaking hand out to tuck an errant lock of hair behind my ear.

“But you are stronger than you think.” She cupped my chin in her palm and stroked a cool finger over my cheek.

A fat tear squeezed out and trickled down my cheek. She wiped it away.

“You are strong enough for your sisters and your father, my dear.”

A deluge of tears poured down my face. I choked out the words, “I can’t do it without you.”

Pain dragged at her features as she leaned forward to place a kiss on my forehead. Her lips were cool against my brow. “You have a strong heart, Ari. Follow its call. It will not lead you amiss.”

She sank back into her pillows and her eyelids flitted shut. The angel expression settled over her face, banishing any hint of pain. The grip on my hand faltered.

“Mother . . .” The word, laced with sorrow, fell from my lips. With Father already grieving her loss and twelve daughters, the youngest still an infant, how would we survive without her?

* * *

Lady Brisella

The carriage drew up the drive, pulling to a stop in front of the entryway. My father’s chest puffed out the way it always did when someone of higher rank appeared. I had seen it before. The “parade of noblemen” as Ari referred to it, had begun in my teenage years. It had been exciting and wonderful to meet gentlemen who’d come with the express purpose of wooing. It took far too long to realize that they hadn’t come to woo me. They wooed my father and the dowry attached to my name. Today would be no different.

The elderly gentlemen stepped out first, a broad smile spanning his round face. At least he seemed friendly.

Father’s voice boomed with pride. “Ladies, the Earl of Gillingham. Lord Gillingham, I present my daughters.”

His voice droned on. My attention snagged on the carriage as the next occupant stepped down. My breath hitched in my throat. Fine clothes hung on an even finer frame. Dark hair. Dark eyes. What was it about deep brown eyes that stripped me down to nothing? I forced all the air out of my lungs to dispel the warmth wrapping fingers around my heart.

“And this is my son, Lord Richard Comstock.” The Earl’s eyes crinkled. His son smiled, the same crinkles ringed his eyes and warmed his expression.

My heart thudded in my chest. Between Ariela, who overflowed with mystery and intellect, and Canela who overflowed with passion and charm, what hope did I have? He would never look at me.

Before I was ready, his hand closed over mine. A zing ran up my arm as he pressed a kiss to my hand. A tiny gasp slipped from my lips. Those brown eyes, reflecting the same surprise I felt, flicked up to my face. For two heartbeats we shared a look.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Brisella.” A crooked smile twisted his mouth.

My father hustled him along. Lord Richard watched me from the corner of his eye as he bent over the hand of my sister Canela.

“Are you all right?” Ariela whispered.

I watched Lord Richard’s progress down the line of my sisters. “I hardly know.”

“What happened?”

Nothing. Everything. I shook my head slowly. How could I explain what I didn’t understand?

She squeezed my arm until I looked at her. Her eyes brimmed with excitement. “It's him, isn't it?”

My gaze was drawn back to Lord Richard, who had nearly reached Frizella. He still watched me from the corner of his eye. The word slipped out in a whisper. “Yes.”

* * *

 Lady Canela

“Cinnamon,” my younger sister, Estella, whined. “You cheated! Again!”

I sniffed and tipped my chin upward. “It’s only cheating if you get caught.”

Estella shared a look with Frizella.

“Besides,” I continued, “it’s my game. I make the rules.” I flicked a red lock of hair over my shoulder.

Frizella shared a look with Estella. Together they said, “But you agreed to the bet.”

I pursed my lips. “Then naturally I’d do anything to win.”

“Including flirting with the stable boys,” Frizella accused.

“And bribing our ladies’ maids with sweets,” Estella added.

“It’s not my fault they’ve no loyalty to you.” I replied, examining my nails.

They turned identical glares on me. “You cheated,” they said in unison. “Now you owe us ribbon money.”

I don’t care what anyone said, it was creepy when they did that. “I owe you nothing. Johnny brought me flowers, didn’t he? Just like I said he would. I won the bet fair and square.”

“But he was our boyfriend!” they wailed.

I folded my arms over my chest. “It’s time you learn something, girls. If something belongs to you, you don’t let go of it. Ever.”

The sounds of blubbering began. “Now, if you don’t mind, I believe Johnny is waiting for me in the woods. Good afternoon, girls.”

* * *

Stay tuned to meet the next three sisters! Daniela, Estella, and Frizella are sure to get up to some type of mischief. In the third installment, Janela and the triplets bring the drama, and in the final installment Krisella and Larela learn about first love . . . 

For the whole story, grab your copy of Midnight Sisters on Amazon today. Contact me if you'd like a signed copy! Thanks for dropping by!

My Inner Beauty

Sarah E. Boucher:
 Adorable Author, Awesome Educator

I've always been a plumpy girl. Curvaceous. Zaftig. Full-figured. Whatever you'd like to call it.

Except Big Boned. Referring to the author as Big Boned will result in a beating. Or a timeout.

This summer, at the height of my squishiness, I hit my 40th birthday. The word hit is strategically selected. In July, one might say a Titanic's worth of emotions collided with an iceberg of drama which spewed over into the sea of my soul. Thoughts of what I've done with my life and who I've become have plagued me all year.

My inner dialogue went something like this:

The critic: 
Fourty. FOUR-TY. Sheesh, that seems old. And still single eh? That's not at all depressing, is it?

The optimist:
Whatever. I've done AMAZING things in my singleton years. And I'm not miserable. I've been a teacher for the better part of 15 years, which means hundreds of kids have been mothered and loved and disciplined, and taught cool stuff like Rhombus and Arachnid. I did that. Also, I write good books man.

The critic: 
Well that's true. So, basically, I'm awesome, right?

The optimist: 
Yup.

How did I get from squishy to awesome? I changed the label I was living under, something I learned from a cranky kindergartner.

See, I carried the title of Mean Teacher for a year before I realized I'd allowed a cranky kindergartner to determine how I felt about myself  as a human. One day I realized that the only one still referring to me as Mean Teacher was me. So, I began looking myself in the mirror and calling myself Awesome. It took longer than accepting the negative label, but it stuck. 

Somewhere along the way, I began to see my own Beauty. I started using words like cute, pretty, and adorable to describe myself. Occasionally my inner critic has a thing to say about that. But I just tell it to shut up and focus on not poking myself in the eye with the eyeliner. Because really, how can a woman with red hair and dimples not be adorable? 

Every girl wants to be the hero of her own story. The Beauty to her Beast. The leading lady in her own romantic comedy. Good stories hinge on a character's journey. That's my story so far. I feel like Belle stepping into that amazing library for the first time. There's still so much to see and do. So many more stories left to discover.

I want to build a blanket fort there! Who's with me?
Learn more on the Disney Wiki

I encourage you, my dear friends, to discover your Inner Awesome. It's not ego and entitlement, but that spark of amazing we all carry within us that drives us to work harder and become better.

And if you need a bit more empowerment, allow me to help you out:
The Making of a Woman
Sassy Pants: Be Your Own Wonder Woman
Plot Twist: Learning to Laugh at Yourself

Thanks for dropping by! I'd love to hear about your journeys! Leave me a comment!

#Shakespeared

The Utah Shakespeare Festival is one of my favorite summer getaways. Short of purchasing a ticket across the pond, there's no better way to dip your toes in Shakespeare and/or get thoroughly #Shakepeared.

This summer, Henry V, wasn't enough. It wet my appetite but didn't satisfy. A thick volume in the gift shop called The Friendly Shakespeare piqued my interest and set me on the path to discovery. 

As a source for inspiration, there nothing better than Shakespeare. The plays, from comedy to history, are a superb mix of drama and humor, truth and fiction, prose and poetry, romance and tragedy. Reading or viewing Shakespeare will expose you to:

Heroes who act like villains and villains who act heroically. Prince Hal from Henry IV exemplifies debauchery and heroism as he treads the path from from ale house to throne and prince to king.

So when this loose behavior I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My refomation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.

Real emotion woven throughout the tales make hundreds of years old feel familiar and relatable. Jealousy, fierce loyalty, true love, infatuation, self-interest, humility, hopelessness. Duke Orsino from Twelfth Night drowns in melancholy due to unrequited love, and like many of us, he wallow in it.

If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die...

Relationships of all types--both healthy and unhealthy--are explored. Fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, husbands and wives, sovereigns and subjects, siblings, and the best and worst of friends. Prospero, the magician and one time duke in The Tempest, does much to ensure the happiness of his daughter Miranda.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

Some of the most delicious banter ever written. Like a tennis match where each hit is efficiently lobbed back. Petruchio and Catherine in The Taming of the Shrew and Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing come to mind. I'd love to gift my lovers such wonderful dialogue.

Beatrice: I wonder you will still be talking, Signor 
Benedick, nobody marks you.
Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?
Beatrice: Is it possible disdain should die while she hath 
such meet food to feed as Signor Benedick?

Shakespeare is timeless. His plots, intrigues, epic romances, and tragedies draw us into another world. From Romeo, Romeo to Out damned spot! he captures our imaginations and feeds our need for both beautiful language and wonderful storytelling.

* * *

If you need a bit o' inspiration, there's always some new interpretation to explore. Here are a few of my new and old favorites (complete with links to Amazon):
The Friendly Shakespeare: A Thoroughly Painless Guide to the Best of the Bard, by Norrie Esptein.
The Tempest, featuring Helen Mirren as Prospera
The Hollow Crown: The Complete Series, featuring Tom Hiddleston as Prince Hal/Henry V
Much Ado About Nothing, directed by Kenneth Branagh
A Midsummer Night's Dream, featuring Rupert Everett as Oberon & Michelle Pfeiffer as Titania
Twelfth Night, featuring Imogen Stubbs & Helena Bonham Carter

* * * 

What are your favorites? Leave me a comment and tell me your true feelings about the Bard. (Be warned that if you loathe him entirely, there may be mocking...) I've also embedded links to my own posts on being #Shakespeared through the post. Happy clicking!

The Making of a Woman

Misconceptions about womanhood are played out in books and on the big and small screen all the time.  To believe that emphasizing the attractiveness of a woman's face or the firmness of her thighs will have no effect on how men view women or how young women see themselves is a lie.

Writers who perpetuate such misconceptions do a disservice to womankind.

Lately, I've been editing my version of The Twelve Dancing Princesses featuring a dozen distinct female characters. The journey from character sketch to final scene taught me a great deal about what makes a woman.

Let me tell you, it ain't those size 0 jeans. (Especially if the lady in question happens to be fond of chocolate. Or human.)

And it certainly isn't a blemish-free face. We earned those wrinkles with years of laughter and tears, didn't we? 
Could it be the sweet, patient woman who holds her tongue when perturbed? Perhaps.

But it could just as easily be the sharp-tongued lass who gives as good as she gets.

Might it be the glowing wit that leaves a room rolling with laughter? Maybe.

But it might also be she who delivers speeches that inspire, uplift, and move a room to tears and brave acts.

Being a woman may include a heart worn on a sleeve for all to see and abuse. It may include a tough skin built to guard a soft heart from hurt.

True womanhood encompasses a number of human foibles, mistakes and missteps that make a character human, lovable, and more understanding of others.
The women featured in literature should be a reflection of the mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and wonderful aunties in our lives. Good, bad, interesting, bland. Real. And more than a pretty face and an itty bitty dress size or a big bottom and a penchant for donuts.

Because that doesn't define us.

Real women are driven by love, pain, anger, jealousy, protectiveness, loyalty, and a myriad of other things. Shouldn't they have a place in literature? Shouldn't they have a chance to shape the way men think about us or what young women learn to value in themselves?

The more complex, intriguing woman I transform from  fairytales princesses who suck up the abuse only to become trophy wivee into complex, intriguing women, the better I feel. Isn't it time to stand up for real women with saddle bags, rings under their eyes, and no energy? Isn't it time to celebrate motherhood and dirty diapers and potty training? Isn't it time to celebrate women who work their butts off to make a difference in the world?

* * *

Thanks for dropping by! Feel free to leave me a comment and share your tips on crafting female characters. And if you'd love to read more about writing awesome heroes, peruse away!
Develop Sassy Heroes by Being One
Barbie's Dream Boat
Classic Heroines: Anne of Green Gables
The Power of Fairytales
Fairytales & Fancy Footwear
Diva Depressed
Funny Girls: Hostile Makeover

Epic Battles & Quiet Victories

I know, I know. You've already heard everything there is to hear about Star Wars: The Force Awakens. All the creepy memes, spoiler alerts, wild speculations, and Facebook friends who threatened to unfriend you if you offered any of the aforementioned items on the list. *insert eye roll*

I forgot to mention bad jokes. Sorry.

Well, I only have one thing to add. It was amazing! Don't worry, I won't bend your ear with dorky Star Wars-isms. I just want to talk about why stories like Star Wars are so impressive. 

He has not aged well. Seriously.

It isn't all the schmancy pyrotechnics or highly paid actors. (Really, $34.7 million, Mr. Ford?). And it certainly isn't the cool locations or costumes (though they are really cool). Ultimately, our hearts are won by epic battles. Good vs. Evil. Dark vs. Light. All played out in vivid detail. We cheer when the protagonist overcomes impossible odds to win the war. Like when Luke wins over Vader. Or Harry Potter conquers Lord Voldemort. 

We need those phenomenal victories to lend us courage and strength in the game of life. After all, life isn't nearly as interesting as what is played out on the big screen, the odds are rarely in our favor, and there's no guarantee of victory. Stories of bravery and brilliance give us the fortitude to keep on going anyway.

Yeah. That happened.

But what about the quiet victories? When Elizabeth wins Darcy or Jane Eyre returns to Mr. Rochester? Quiet victories are every bit as satisfying to the heart and are every bit as important as epic adventures.

Oh yeah, that's satisfying.

As an awkward young woman, I identified with Anne Shirley of L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables. Anne's penchant for ridiculous situations and inevitably making matters worse resonated with me. In those days, I was the type of girl who did everything backwards. Through Anne, I learned the importance of apologizing correctly (rather than dramatically), that the best love is the one you work for instead of the one that falls into your lap, and that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it. Those are lessons that I will always carry with me. 

I can relate, sister.

Even though we know that Good doesn't always win and Happily Ever After only occurs in fairytales, Epic Battles and Quiet Victories sell books and movies because they inspire us. The best ones throw a load of obstacles in the hero's way before the end, demanding ingenuity, bravery, and inner strength to come out on top. Sound like life? It does to me. In the end, these tales summon the superhero within and whisper of a better tomorrow.

* * *

Now you've heard my thoughts on the subject. I'd love to get your take on Epic Battles and Quiet Victories. Do you find one more appealing than the other? And what are your favorites? Leave me a comment! And thanks for dropping by!

Anti-Heroes

They're the ruthless characters we love to gasp at, wonder what they'll do next, and if it will help or hinder the hero. Bring. It. On.

Long before I knew they were actually anti-heroes, I admired these spunky, obnoxious, slightly dark, self-serving characters. Movies especially make these characters alluring, funny, and real. 

Rumplestiltskin Once Upon A Time has done an amazing job of breathing new life into this traditional mischief-maker. We hate him. We love him. But we have to keep watching because who knows what side he'll be on next.

The Arrow In the first two seasons of the CW's Arrow, Stephen Amell played the perfect anti-hero. Who knew if he'd save your life or kick your...um....well, you get the point. Damaged and slightly unhinged, we only knew we couldn't look away. (Especially when his shirt was off.)

Han Solo Seriously, what girl didn't love Han Solo? Selfish, disheveled, self-centered, and always concerned with what's in it for him, Somehow that didn't make him less attractive. (Really, Luke Skywalker is positively boring next to him.)

Shrek Until Shrek arrived on the scene with his tasteless jokes and questionable motives, I didn't know what true love was. Granted, eventually he becomes the hero we always wanted...but then he just turned back into a flatulant ogre, which is the way we like him anyway.

Snape I spent the first five books hating him only to discover that he's the dark hero of the entire flipping series. Well played, JK Rowling, well played. Harry never would have grown into his own powers without such a fierce protector behind him. (And we judged him on his preference for black and his greasy mop of hair. Tragic, really.)

Sherlock Oh yes, Sherlock Holmes is the ultimate anti-hero who gets in his own way as often as he gets in everyone else's. But why wouldn't we love an ultra-intelligent, handsome, fearless character? (Unless we have to share a flat with him. Poor, poor John. That ego can't be easy to live with.)

Wolverine He's one of my personal favorites. Hunky, moody, foul-mouthed, damaged, and ready for any fight that comes his way. At his core is a nugget of loyalty. He'd make an interesting boyfriend...

Loki The God of Mischief can't be anything but an anti-hero. Every action, whether noble or cowardly, is spurred by a self-serving motive. His admonition to Thor rings true in nearly every instance, Are you ever not going to fall for that?

Anti-heroes are after delightfully human (except Loki) and often more relatable than traditional heroes. I've yet to write an anti-hero into a book, but it's only a matter of time before I sneak one in. After all, my next project is Rumplestiltskin...

Who are your favorite anti-heroes? Leave me a comment, and as always, thanks for dropping in! (Feel free to throw some ladies in there...)

Like to read about more aspects of the writing process?
Give it Heart, New Life, New Breath
Tragically Flawed...Or Not
The Meet-Cute
Breaking the Rules
World Building for the Literary Challenged

One Hundred

100 posts in! 100 posts full of Sarah silliness, insights, story samples, and plenty of advice on plenty of subjects. I'm just enough of a data dork (yes, another of my lovely quirks) to enjoy watching those numbers tick higher and higher. Delightful! The top 10 (plus 1) are a medley of everything that makes me ME. Read and enjoy!

Bend in the Road Are there rocks ahead? If there are, we'll all be dead! New adventures don't come without a little bit of risk. 

Woman: The  Most Dangerous Plaything Meet Sylvi Lockhart, a budding author who throws in with private investigator Jesse James. What begins as research for her next novel leads to adventure, excitement, and more sweaty balding men than Sylvi bargained for. 

Socially Acceptable Stalking: the Ins and Outs of Followers Ah, the art of mastering the Twitterverse. It's not for the faint of heart! Learn how to find, gain, and keep worthwhile followers. 

Ready or Not... Change will come. How you respond to it as a writer and as a human being will define you as a person. 

#BookSelfie Everybody is jumping on the #selfie train! Maybe you think it's only a fad, but trust me, it's fun to see your cover featured in a #BookSelfie! 

On Tour! Revisit Becoming Beauty's Blog Tour from Nov 2015. Yep, I'm definitely doing that again. Blog tours are the best. 

It's Playtime! All kids learn through play. And SURPRISE, adults need it too. (Also, we need cookies and fluffy pillows.)

Verbosity Many are afraid of large words, but they needn't be! We only need to use them well so that our audience will run to Google and not throw our books at the wall in annoyance.

Ms. Etiquette Makes an Appearance After conquering the Neanderthals at school, Ms. Kindergarten Teacher takes on social media. Can they be taught manners? Or will they be put in timeout within the first five minutes?

Cringe Worthy Got an embarrassing moment? Suuuure you do...I'm pretty sure I've got you beat. Humiliations galore!

Sassy Pants Worried about crafting the perfect Woman Power heroine? How about being one? It's fun and makes for fantastic writing.

Ignite

Last year, I attended my first writers' conference, LDS Storymakers. I had the honor of meeting Sara B. Larson. She was such a gifted presenter--spunky, adorable, and fun--that I had to buy her book. Defy had a compelling storyline, a complex heroine, and a healthy dose of romance. And okay, a beautiful cover. How could I resist? The twins' story is reminiscent of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night (which is one of my favorites) with a whole lot more sass and action thrown in. I connected with the story almost as soon as I cracked open the book. 

I hit the end of Defy and went, "Whaaaaat?" Fake out! When the sequel Ignite was released, I grabbed it on Amazon. In the midst of finishing the school year and dealing with all the stresses of moving to a different school, I blew off some steam reading Ignite. The characters Sara developed in Defy continued to seize my attention and tug at my heart strings. Alexa is fascinating, strong, and skilled in ways the typical heroine isn't (in swordplay, for instance). She's the subject of my previous post Tragically Flawed...Or Not. And her relationship with King Damian keeps a girl reading into the wee hours and emitting girlie sighs. The finale, Endure, will be released in January 2016. And yep, I'll be picking that one up too (and taking it wherever I can to get Sara to sign it). Anyone who loves YA Action/Adventure would enjoy this series. Read on for the blurbs!

Defy

Alexa Hollen is a fighter. Forced to disguise herself as a boy and serve in the king's army, Alex uses her quick wit and fierce sword-fighting skills to earn a spot on the elite prince's guard. But when a powerful sorcerer sneaks into the palace in the dead of night, even Alex, who is virtually unbeatable, can't prevent him from abducting her, her fellow guard and friend Rylan, and Prince Damian, taking them through the treacherous wilds of the jungle and deep into enemy territory.

The longer Alex is held captive with both Rylan and the prince, the more she realizes that she is not the only one who has been keeping dangerous secrets. And suddenly, after her own secret is revealed, Alex finds herself confronted with two men vying for her heart: the safe and steady Rylan, who has always cared for her, and the dark, intriguing Damian. With hidden foes lurking around every corner, is Alex strong enough to save herself and the kingdom she's sworn to protect? (Source: Amazon)

Ignite

Alexa continues to harbor a secret love for the newly crowned King Damian, yet she remains by his side as his guard and ever committed to helping him rebuild Antion and reclaim the hope of Antion's people. However, when a new threat to Damian and his kingdom emerges, and blame is cast on the once friendly nation of Blevon, Alexa knows things are not what they seem. Once again the fate of her country hangs in the balance. Will Alexa be able to protect her king and uncover the true enemy -- before it's too late? (Source: Amazon)

Looking for something else to read? Try some of my other reviews:
Miranual For Life 
Letters To My Future Husband
Ann-with-an-E
Where Life Takes You
Persuaded
Pass The Pepper
Hope Grows In A...
Southern Belles: Words of Wisdom & Other Shenanigans
Happy reading, my dears!