Hi Guys,
Today (a little later than usual, I know), I'm proud to present this weeks Author Take Over; Dama Blythe!!! Please give her a warm welcome, and make sure to stop by her pages to give them some love afterwards. If you want to know my thoughts on Immortal Eyes - look at the previous post :-)
So, without delaying anymore... I'm handing over my blog to Dama:
Guest post from author Dama Blythe:
“Immortal Eyes” brings together some of my
favorite things: the mysterious and magical, the Appalachian Mountains, and the
written word.
I was born and raised in the Appalachian
Mountains of Southwestern Virginia. There is one thing you learn early here in
these mountains: the magical and the
mysterious exist all around you. Growing up in the embrace of some of the
oldest mountains in the world, and encircled by the third oldest river in the
world (the New River), you become aware of the energy that exudes from the
Earth itself. You cannot help but to be touched by the energies buried deep in
the sediment here.
I remember walking through the mountains
and forests when I was a child, and seeing the hidden shacks hidden back in the
trees, nearly impossible to see – camouflaged, almost having become a part of
the mountain itself. I dreamed of who might live in those humble homes,
spirited off away from any contact with the world. Granny women, who stop blood
with the magic of a Bible verse or cure the croup with a concoction of roots
and bark. Spirits that roam throughout the mountains, and inhabit old
farmhouses. Noises in the night that have no explanation. That was the backdrop
to my childhood.
Growing up, I never discounted these
things. I never went through that awkward period between childhood stories and
adult explanations. Even now, in my middle age, I refuse to listen to reason,
choosing instead to hear the magic calling from the trees.
Writing offers a place to capture the
stories whispered in the depths of the hollows here. If you’ve ever studied the
mystical arts (or even studied the cultures that practice them) then you know
that the word is powerful. The most exquisite detail can be shared with perfect
precision. Stories are a part of our deep subconscious need to connect with our
past, put our dreams into words, and understand the world around us.
Now that “Immortal Eyes” is published, I
have begun working on the next book in the series, which will explore more of
the mysteries and magic of the Appalachian Mountains. I hope you will join me
for more exciting journeys.
For those of you who haven’t yet read
“Immortal Eyes,” here are a few excerpts to introduce you to the characters
telling the story. These are a few of my favorite lines from each of the voices
in the novel.
Shalyn Trent: “It seemed to her that
everyone in the bar could hear the racing of her heart or, at the very least,
see the pounding artery at her pale throat. The man did not seem to notice her
at all, which opened up a whole new paranoia. What if he was trying to disguise
that he was watching Shalyn? She began to fear that the scream which was
collecting itself in her throat would escape. Then this strange man looked her
directly in the eye, and smiled. Shalyn began to run through the crowd, though
to her it seemed she was not moving at all.”
Frank Vant: “He was sitting at his usual
table, drinking his usual beer… He wondered for what must have been the
millionth time, if it had all been for nothing. Beer now had a more pleasant
taste but everything else had gone to hell… He felt so old and alone… As he
absent-mindedly tucked a loose piece of his raven black hair back into the
rubber band at the nape of his neck, his fingers brushed across the leather
string there. For a moment he was overtaken by the urge to rip it off and let
nature take its course…Then the door opened cautiously beside him and his heart
stopped momentarily. The time had indeed come at last.
Eddie Jackson: “He lit a Marlboro from his
freshly opened pack and leaned his six foot frame against the utility pole. He
felt a little like James Dean and a whole lot like the Big Bad Wolf…He caught a
glimpse of her through the pale curtains as she slipped into a gown… ‘Fe, Fi,
Fo, Fum. Watch out little piggy, ‘cause here I come,’ he whispered to himself.
Raoul Francois de Valpres (the voice of the
journal): “She is somehow ethereal with
some form of earthiness which keeps her from vaporizing into sheer light. I
cannot place exactly where her beauty emanates from – her lustrous hair,
exquisite features, the tiny-ness of her feet, tinkling of her laughter,
huskiness of her whispers or perhaps it is simply the way her gaze touches me
and leaves heat in its wake upon my skin…she twirled around the room on bare
tiptoe to silent song until she collapsed, giggling in my arms… My arms have
never felt as empty as they have since she pirouetted away.”
Zendella D’Ouveau: “Zendella listened to
the familiar creaking of the antique rocking chair mixed with the spring
peepers’ song across the mountain… Somehow the rocker had aged with Zendella,
acquiring the creaks and groans which comprise the personality and wisdom of
each…Her heart skipped a beat in recognition of the fact that Old Mother Earth
would claim her soon, unless everything happened on time…Her fragile shoulders
shuddered at the thought. But there were some things not etched in stone,
instead they simply dangled from the tiny web that destiny spins…and eventually
destroys.”
You can find Dama here:
You can buy Immortal Eyes here:
