Friday, December 21, 2012

Uprising Blog Tour - That's a Wrap, People!

All good things must come to an end...


Okay, the world isn't one of those things - not yet, anyway. 
The Uprising Blog Tour is another matter. *sniff*

I'd like to propose a toast to Mindy over at Forbidden Reviews, for hosting this shindig. A kick-ass chick and organizational Guru ~ 
Mindy, you ROCK! 

Another toast goes out to all the fantastic bloggers who allowed me to share their page for a while. It was a great experience, and I stand in awe of all the hard work put into those amazing sites.

And BIG HUGS to Time and Tide Publishing, without whom this whole thing wouldn't have been possible!

Even in the midst of holiday insanity, this Blog Tour went off without a hitch! I had a blast, and my sincere thanks goes out to every, single one of you!
~ Dawn


Sunday, December 2, 2012

Angels Among Us

Dominik walked the area, keeping a lookout for souls in turmoil, those vulnerable to spiritual attack. He found a few and offered assistance—nothing dramatic, or even angelic. Just gestures of kindness borne from keen observation and a willingness to act.

I can't tell you how many times I almost deleted that paragraph when I was writing Uprising. It's not essential to the story or character development, so standard operating procedure would deem those words unnecessary, doomed to the delete key. 

I kept those lines because they were important to me, to my development. I tend to forget or overlook the goodness in the world, the kindness in my fellow travelers on this remarkable journey.

see an article  about something horrible or tragic and more often than not, I'll click. I wish I could say the same about reports of decency and selflessness, but I usually pass on such things. Maybe it's because I don't want to live in rose-colored glasses, or perhaps I need a constant stream of perspective so I remember my life is really, really not bad. I should probably balance that with some uplifting news.

I've decided to track down some angels. Not the ones with wings and a halo, but those living among us, quietly and humbly making the world a little better. This article and photo of the New York City police officer who purchased boots for a homeless gentleman has already gone viral - for good reason in my estimation - but I think it's worth repeating.

Larry DePrimo - you've earned the Angels Among Us Wings!

~ Dawn

Saturday, December 1, 2012

My 16 new BFF's - Blog Tour event Schedule!

Here's the compete Blog Tour schedule for Uprising! These 16 bloggers were crazy gracious enough to allow my book a spot on their pages. Check them out - I'll bet at least one ends up in your bookmarks!

When If you stop by, make sure you enter the give-a-way contest. Lots of prizes and lots of winners - this bracelet is one of several up for grabs.

Nov 29    Forbidden Reviews

Nov 30    Tina Carreiro

Dec 03    I Read Indie 
Dec 04    Tich Brewster

Dec 12    Tsk Tsk What to Read

Dec 13    Forbidden Reviews
Dec 14    Ever and Ever Sight
Dec 17    Insane about Books

Dec 18    Sassy Book Lovers

Dec 21    Dawn Jayne

Friday, November 16, 2012

The Angels Fly Again!

I'd like to interrupt the (totally awesome) Breaking Dawn festivities to present the cover for Uprising! I'm unbelievably thrilled, and all credit goes to Time and Tide Publishing.

Also in the realm of great news, the release date is set for November 29, 2012. There's a full moon and penumbral eclipse the night before. 

Talk about a tough act to follow. :) 

~ Dawn Jayne

Monday, July 16, 2012

Watching Others Burn

It has been said by others with far more eloquence that I will ever possess, that we sometimes don't see things until we are ready to see them. I absolutely believe this is true.

It might be a person in our office, one we pass every day but never notice, only to discover he or she has the loveliest smile we've ever seen. It might be a song on the radio that we never really listen to, but then one day the lyrics seem to speak to us and it becomes our favorite. A painting on a wall, one we've only glanced at a few times, and then one day we see it with new eyes and it's the most beautiful thing in the world. I love those moments, because usually it is a sign of an internal change, of growth.

There is also a downside to these moments, and those come when we finally see something in a new light and it's not pretty. Perhaps it's a partner we always trusted, a friend we thought had our back, a situation we believed was right and it turns out to be horribly wrong.

We can run, disengage from people or situations that we realize no longer have our best interests at heart. There is a sense of freedom in this, but also humiliation. We wonder how we could have been so blind to not see these things before. We question our intelligence, spend a lot of time licking our wounds and trying to piece together the shattered remains of our ego.

Worse, once we can see with new eyes, we want to tell it to the world, to others still entangled in the situations we've escaped. But we know they won't listen. They are still looking through a veil that won't be lifted until it's ready, the same way it lifted for us. That's a hard place to be, a frustrating place. It sucks.

For me, I sometimes feel like a person that has escaped a burning building but couldn't warn anyone else. I feel like I'm standing back, watching in horror as people are consumed by a fire they don't even see. It's heart-breaking, maddening, and painful.

Sometimes all we can do is keep our hearts and arms wide open, and pray for the day we can embrace other refugees as they see the light. We can help stifle the flames and help them to start rebuilding, just as we did.

Peace ~

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Lead us not into Stupidity

I've been following with perverse fascination the story of a woman who tossed a one-million dollar winning scratch off ticket in the trash. Said ticket was then picked up by another woman who proceeded to turn it in and claim the money.

For reasons only lawyers can understand, a court has determined the winnings should be returned to the original ticket holder. That ruling is being appealed and this is my shocked face. Oo

I really don't care about the legal part of this mess that includes furious discussion over the difference between a trashcan and a ticket bin, or a machine that may or may not have been working properly, or what constitutes found property. The thing that amazes me is the woman who tossed away her millions said she did so because...drum roll...the scanning machine told her the ticket wasn't a winner.

I've played the lottery more than a few times, including those scratch off tickets. There is nothing difficult in the process of determining what is or is not a winning ticket. Like most others, the ticket in question was a simple match-the-numbers game. If your number at the top matches a number at the bottom, you win. Most of us have been doing variations on this game since preschool, so I am astounded that a person who had just chucked over ten or twenty bucks on the possibility of winning one million dollars chose to rely on a machine to give her the thumbs-up or down.

Oh! She insisted that she even scanned that ticket two or three times - like she always does - just to make sure it wasn't a winner before she threw it away. I can't decide if that makes the situation better or worse.

Dependence on technology is not a new phenomenon; just ask the people that follow their GPS over hills and streams and into the wilderness where they sit for days trying to get a cell signal so they can call someone to save them before they starve to death. It's insane that we are a society of people that continue to allow machines and computers to run our life. It's lack of personal accountability in all it's glory. We've gone beyond blaming another person for our losses and now we can point fingers at things that don't even have a pulse.

I don't care one way or another which of these women end up with that million dollars. God bless both of them for reminding me of how far we've all gone on the path of stupidity.

I guess that's about all I have to say on this. Before I post I'm going to hit spell-check so I have an excuse if anything is wrong, then I'm going to hop in my car and head down the road to pick up my daughter at a friend's house. I'm going to set my cruise control at 60 so if I get pulled over for speeding I can blame it on the car.

Peace ~ Dawn

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Easter Egg - deleted scene from Uprising #1

Sometimes you have to kill your darlings. As an author, I have a love for every scene I write but there are times when they just have to go, for one reason or another. It can be to quicken the pace, to chop down the word count or just because it's a scene that isn't really relevant to the larger story. It's a process I'm still learning, and I was fortunate to have a fantastic beta reader, Tina, that gave me invaluable advice. She pointed out that this scene - one I really liked - didn't do much for the story, and she was absolutely right. So away it went from the book, but I present it now as a little Easter Egg!

This scene was to take pace in Chapter Eleven. It's a short conversation between Rise and Danny's father, Phillip Daly. This is the actual draft, in all its very un-edited glory!


Within a few hours, as the party got livelier, Rise was reconsidering her answer. People were eating and drinking and laughing and having a good time, and she was becoming miserable. She tried to keep a smile, but she really wanted to curl up on the floor in a dark, soundproof room. She slipped out the door, thinking some fresh air might help.

 She leaned against the brick wall outside, closed her eyes and tried to relax. She could hear still hear the ruckus inside, the voices and the plates and forks scraping together. She breathed rhythmically, and tried to focus her attention elsewhere.  She saw a dog across the street, sniffing around some litter and she concentrated on that. She heard the door to the pub creak open and shut. She didn’t budge.

“You okay Jalynn?” Mr. Daly asked. “I’m sorry, it’s Rise now, isn’t it? New tricks are hard for us old dogs.” He put a cigarette in his mouth and starting checking his pockets.

“It’s okay,” Rise said. “I’m fine, just needed some air. It’s hot in there.”

“Getting that way, that’s for sure,” he said, and his voice was muddled from talking around the cigarette. He flipped open a gold lighter with a USMC emblem on the side. He took a long drag. “So are you doing all right? I heard about what happened with that little girl. It was a brave thing you did. But I imagine seeing a thing like that would stick with a person.”

Rise’s first instinct was to smile and say she was fine, which had been her rote response to similar inquiries. But when she noticed the genuine concern in the man’s voice, it compelled her to answer truthfully; if he was kind enough to ask, she could at least mange an honest answer.

“I’m not sure how I feel about it yet,” she said.

Mr. Daly nodded and tapped some ashes onto the ground. “I’m supposed to tell you hello, from Emily. She had a touch of fever so I took her over to the neighbor’s house for the night.”

 “I haven’t seen her in a while,” Rise said.  “I bet she’s getting big. She’s twelve now, right? Danny told me she’s doing better.” Emily had been living in Florida with Danny’s mom, Marlene. But she’d died from cancer back in February and Emily had moved back to live with her dad. The little girl had been having a hard time adjusting.

  “She’s getting there,” Mr. Daly said. “She liked going to the beach, so she misses that. And you know Marlene got re-married to that guy named Mike, and he had a daughter about the same ago, and Emily misses her, too. But she told me last week she’s looking forward having snow for Christmas again.” He shook his head and smiled. “When she was little, she used to make snow angels all over the yard, but she’s probably too old for that now. She’s starting to show an interest in art these days, taking after her mom, looks like.”

“Danny told me his mom starting painting before she died, ” Rise said, and shifted her weight. She was feeling odd, standing outside like this with her best friend’s father, talking about things she didn’t want to talk about. She noticed Mr. Daly had a drink in his free hand, and she suspected it wasn’t his first of the night. He wasn’t the chatty type.

Mr. Daly blew out a long stream of smoke.

“Emily told me her step-dad enclosed the porch on the house down there, so Marlene could use it to paint,” he said. “I guess she was pretty good, sold quite a few.” Mr. Daly got quiet for a minute. “Before the divorce, Marlene always told me she wanted to be an artist. She asked me more than a few times to clear out that back bedroom so she could use it as a studio, but I never got around to it.” He looked away. “There was a lot I didn’t get around to, I suppose.”

“You helped me a lot when I moved,” Rise said. She was starting to rethink her enjoyment of adulthood. If this kind of conversation came along with the title, she wasn’t sure she wanted the title. “And you volunteered almost every day last year with the rebuilding after the floods.”

“I decided I’d lost enough time being lazy. Marlene always wanted me to be one of those men that got up and did things.”

“Well, you are now,” Rise said, and hoped that was a good response.

“Maybe so, maybe so,” Mr. Daly said, and grunted. “All it took for me to be the man Marlene wanted was for her to leave. Funny isn’t it? But I did clear out that room. Emily uses it now.”

The door opened again and Emory’s mother stuck her head out. She was an attractive woman and kept her hair natural and very short. She’d recently had it colored, so it had a reddish hue.

“You better get back in here,” she said to Mr. Daly. “Half this bar is trying to buy your boy a drink. You’ll be carrying him home.”

“I’m coming,” he said with a laugh and tossed down the cigarette butt. “You staying out here, Rise?”

“Just for a few more minutes.”

The dog she had seen earlier crossed the street and wandered over. He was what most folks would call mangy, but his bushy tail was wagging so she held out her hand. He came over and sniffed her, then licked her fingers. She patted his head, mostly to get the slobber off. Then the dog’s tail went straight up and his fur stood on end. He took off running down the street.

Rise wondered what had spooked him, but then a strong gust of wind hit her and she looked up to see a man walking down the middle of the street in her direction. He was too far away to see his face clearly, but he was short and wide. Rise felt a tingle on the back of her neck and her senses perked. She decided the dog had the right idea and she scurried back into the bar.