Libbie the Lobster

To purchase the children's book "Saving Libbie the Lobster" go to



One Tiny Moment in Time

In one tiny moment in time, one instant of my life, all the love, compassion, and connection I feel to all of life burst forth to create one choice, one action that culminated in saving one rare yellow lobster and my own life.

I truly believe that what I feel within is what I will see without. If I am fearful and angry, the whole word becomes a fearful, angry place. But if I feel love within, I see a world of beauty and light. 1549789-thumbnailThis all sounds philosophical I know and yes, I’ve been a seeker my whole life. The uniquely human questions of “Why am I here?” and “How did it all come about?” have always intrigued me. I am a deep thinker but growing older has taught me simplicity. I am content learning about the physical world and my deepest connection to it is the feeling of love.

Not to belabor the idea of love and connection to the earth, I simply wish to impart my sense of awe at how that one tiny moment in time, that one lightning fast decision to snap a picture of the beautiful rare lobster to find her a home, was absolutely profound in its effect on my life.

Every thought, every choice I make in every instant creates my life. I choose love.

May you, my readers, have much joy these holidays.

Have there been moments that have changed your life? I’d love to hear about it.

Flagler Beach Fun on the way to The Nation’s Oldest City



A new author friend S.K. Nicholls Loves our beach town and our book! Thanks Susan for writing about your visit in our fabulous town.

Originally posted on S.K. Nicholls:

The RS and I took a notion to travel on Saturday and headed out to St. Augustine for an overnighter. We usually travel south for Old World Florida fun but this trip took us a bit north. The highlight was a detour off I-95 across Hwy. #100 to Flagler Beach where local authors were having a book signing at Change Jar Books. All of these authors write their stories set in Flager Beach and are local celebrities. They should be regional or national celebrities. When they are, we can say, “We knew them when…” You can follow Tim on Twitter @blindoggbooks, drop by and show some love. He’s almost at 10,000 followers.

The RS knows the work effort that went into writing and publishing Red Clay and Roses and he really appreciates independent authors. One of our favorite writers, Tim Baker was at the signing. We picked up a…

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The Naysayer (A short Story by Marybeth Jeitner)

Through the crack of the door, Phaedra heard the familiar six chimes of the grandfather clock in the grand hallway. “No, not yet. It’s far too early,” she moaned. She turned onto her side and covered herself with the thick satin quilt, settling in for a few more moments of sleep. It’s always cold in this mausoleum of a mansion! She thought. classic-old-home


Suddenly, she heard commotion in the antechamber. In one fluid movement, Phaedra threw off the covers, swung her legs over the side of the bed and jumped onto the floor without using the step stool.  She walked barefoot on the gelid marble floor to the top of the staircase and saw Malcolm, the butler, awkwardly trying to comfort Alister Bradley, mother’s friend, who was flailing her arms and weeping.


“Mz. Bradley, Madam will be with ya soon,” Malcolm said nervously. 


Phaedra felt her mother whisk by, the sweet scent of her perfume lingering in the air. She watched as her mother approached her friend and said in her feigned motherly voice, “There, there my dear, tell me all about it.” And turning to Malcolm she said, “Bring us some tea in the sitting room, please.”


Returning to her room to dress for school, Phaedra wondered what horrible thing could have happened to Mrs. Bradley. Then, she remembered what Mavis, the housekeeper, had told her and her friend Alexandria after school one day while sitting in the kitchen. Mavis had said that a tragedy would befall Alexandria’s family soon. Mavis must be a fortune teller. How else would she predict things are going to happen? Phaedra thought.


Practically running up the steep hill toward her friend’s house, Phaedra could see her breath in the cold air. She had worn her kelly green high school blazer which was little protection from the threatening frost. As she approached the Bradley estate, Phaedra saw her friend, Alexandria, walking slowly toward her with her head hung low. 


“Lexy, are you alright? What awful thing has happened?”


“They had one of their fights last night. It was the worst yet. Father has left us! Phay, he’s gone! What will become of us?”


“Lexy, I don’t know what to say. Hey, let’s skip school and go down to the cabin by the lake. You’ll feel better. It’s your favorite place.”


Walking hand in hand, the girls headed out across the baron field. The grass was turning its winter brown and dark clouds overhead concealed the sunlight. As they approached the tree line they kicked playfully at the red, orange and yellow leaves that littered the ground beneath the old oak trees.


“Hear that wind, Phay? It reminds me of the day that we went on the hay ride when we were eight years old. Remember Mavis went with us because your mother thought it was dangerous? The wind was howling that day and even the horses wanted to turn back.” 


“I remember, Lexy. And you wanted to jump off the wagon because you got so mad when Mr. Keenan wouldn’t let you sit up front with him to drive the wagon!” Phaedra said laughingly.


The laughter was soon replaced by fear as Phaedra recalled a warning that Mavis had given her later that same day. “Miss Phaedra,” she had said. “You be very careful, now, ya hear! That friend of yours is evil. There’s somethin’ dark about her!” Phaedra knew Mavis was always right about the things she foreshadowed but Lexy was her best friend and she had never seen her hurt anyone.


Inside the cabin they sat on an old, warped, wooden bench and huddled together to warm them but Phaedra felt a growing sense of doom as she looked around the dusty, dark, old cabin that until then had been a place she and Lexy felt at home. Wallpaper_Autumn_Landscape_Old_Kentucky_Country_Home-1600x900


“What happened Lexy? What were they fighting about?”


“They were fighting about me.” Alexandria said flatly as she looked at the floor.


Nervously Phaedra stood and walked to the window. “What about you?”


“My father thinks I need to go back to the hospital. He said I’m a ticking time bomb but my mother said I can stay home and she’ll take care of me. She said she can keep me from getting so angry. I don’t know what they’re talking about Phay. I don’t think I get angry. Do you think I do?”


Shocked by hearing her words and the strange tone of her voice, Phaedra thought, Whatever is she talking about? Why would she go back to the hospital? She was there because she had pneumonia, wasn’t she? Could this be what Mavis warned me about?


Out of the corner of her eye Phaedra saw movement in the trees. She focused on the spot and began to see the outline of a man. As he emerged from the shadows, she saw an old man with long, white, tangled hair and a beard filled with leaves and dirt from the forest. His tattered clothes hung loosely on his thin frame. In an instant he was within inches of the window. When Phaedra looked into his large, round, brown eyes, she saw that it was Mavis. She held a crooked finger to her lips motioning for Phaedra to stay quiet.


Gripped with terror, Phaedra turned to Alexandria only to find her friend had transformed into someone she barely recognized. Her eyes wide and glazed over seemed to pierce through her. Alexandria held a machete in her hand. In an instant she was on her and thrust the knife into Phaedra’s stomach, ripping upward. 


“Lexy why?” Phaedra garbled as she collapsed to the floor.


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The Inspired Mic December Spotlight – Becky Pourchot


Spotlight on my friend Becky Pouchot. She’s someone to watch. Her YA Hungry Ghost Series is awesome!

Originally posted on Michael Ray King:

The December Inspired Mic will see us at a new location, Leroy’s 19th Hole, the Country Club restaurant and bar for the Cypress Knoll Golf Course in Palm Coast. The following two weeks this site will display the presenters who will be on stage on December 16th. With the new location comes some new perks. We are excited about our growth and the community’s interest in local talent. Please check back each day for a little insight into our Inspired Mic Event presenters!

Becky Pourchot best becky portrait alana (2)Becky Pourchot

Becky never wanted to be a writer. Not ever. Writing was just something she did for fun. Then in’93 a boyfriend asked her to write a column for the college paper he edited and she obliged. Upon graduation she left the boyfriend and her newspaper ambitions behind. Still determined to be anything but a writer, Becky pursued loftier careers like pre-school teacher, ice cream store…

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Ten Classic Novels I’ve Never Read


My friend and fellow author Tim Baker humbly makes a confession.

Originally posted on blindoggbooks:

One of the first tenets in the writing world is to be well-read.

It’s one of those givens…in order to be a good writer you must read – a lot.

What should prospective writers read? you ask…

The accepted philosophy is anything and everything – whether it’s Gone With the Wind or the back of your cereal box.

Just read.

should be reading

Well…I have a confession to make, but before I bare my soul…I want to say that I do love to read. I read as much as I can (when I’m not writing) so I would like you to take that fact into consideration as you read on.

This is my confession (I feel like I should genuflect and cross myself or something)…

There are many great…no CLASSIC works of literature I have not read.

Sometimes when I’m with other writers I feel somewhat ashamed when the conversation turns to Dickens…

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Christmas Nostalgia

Dressed in a black velvet dress with a white furry collar, white leggings and black patent leather shoes, I demurely awaited Christmas dinner. Mother and grandmother clearly approved of my lady-like disposition as I sat in the thickly upholstered chair with my feet far from touching the floor. Next to me the crackling fire raged in the stone fireplace and warmed my feet. As I gazed at the Christmas tree that reached to the high ceiling, I became mesmerized by the colored lights shining on the red and green ornaments and silver tinsel. The scent of pine filled the room. Newly opened boxes in many sizes and shapes remained under the tree. On top of the baby grand piano sat candelabras whose shimmering light sent flickering shadows around the large room. fileDespite the warm fire, the room felt cold, or perhaps it only seemed cold because the snow was piled high on the outside windowsill and the oak trees swayed in the blustery wind.

Having spent the day excitedly opening gifts and receiving everything I had asked Santa for, I was content on the outside but inside, I wanted to run and play with daddy and grandpop. I was bursting with energy but was relegated to the living room to await the evening feast. I felt uncomfortable in the crinolines under my dress that made my legs itch and the shoe straps across my feet would have cut into my skin save for the perfectly turned down white socks.

But I was so much younger then. I remember those years with sad fondness. The people are gone and the old-fashioned ambiance of my family’s traditional Christmas is gone with them. The little girl I was is much older now and my ideas of this holiday are tainted by what I see all around me. The general disregard for the problems facing the future of humanity as evidenced by the demands for more of everything, is more apparent to me now.

Although the luster of Christmas has dimmed for me, I believe that Christmas is still magical for children. I could not be more grateful to be able to be a part of children’s joy this year for the holidays. Many people have been buying our books as gifts from Santa to their children. I can picture their faces light up when they see the colorful illustrations and they read the story of Libbie’s rescue from the supermarket tank. I would like to think Heather Chalmers and I are like Santa’s elves who worked happily to bring joy to children. 75696088ec7e30b36947ba739c2c9d01

Now instead of snow laden oak trees outside my window, I see regal palm trees with Christmas lights snaking up their trunks against a backdrop of blue ocean.  I could not be happier. It has been said that with age comes wisdom, so wiser now, I can enjoy making new memories of holidays with friends and their little ones.

What are your earliest memories of Christmas? And how has that changed for you?


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