Sacrifice by Kelly Komm

5 Stars

ISBN-10: 0-7414-4254-X
Publish date: December 2007
Trade paperback; 194 pages; $13.95
Fiction, Fantasy, Adventure
Recommended for: YA/Teens and Adult

Mystical and rich with vivid description.

After her parents are slaughtered by the evil Garshu, young Nell is raised by Garick, a wise elf who shelters her and protects her from danger by passing her off as an elf child. Until the day Nell discovers the truth. She is Human, a race that is thought to be nearly extinct.

Accompanied by Garick and a band of fascinating characters, Nell sets off on a perilous journey to rid the world of the bloodthirsty Garshulan soldiers, to destroy once and for all the Garshula and their nests, and to find justice for her parents’ death.

Kelly Komm’s writing is lyrical, moving and engaging. Mystical and rich with vivid description, Sacrifice is a mix of fantasy and adventure that will keep you turning the pages until the very last one. It is one of those rare finds, and although it is marketed as young adult fiction, even adult readers will enjoy this entertaining novel. I certainly did.

You can order Sacrifice HERE.

~ Cheryl Kaye Tardif is a freelance journalist, book reviewer and editor. She is also the author of three bestselling novels set in Canada, including the “compelling “ and “beautiful” Whale Song, the high-octane thriller The River and the sizzling psychic suspense Divine Intervention.

When 'stuff' happens - write about it !

Holiday Family Memories can be made under the Strangest Circumstances


It was the night before – the night before – Christmas, and all of the mice in our family, old and young were out at a festive local inn for a traditional holiday feast.

The nearby inn was a place that we had taken our kids since they’d been old enough to sit in a chair and eat without spilling at least half of it on the floor.
It was a great old place – several hundred years old and very colonial. And we always made a point of going to the inn just before Christmas because it’s always all decked out in wreaths, ribbons and candle’s, like something straight out of Currier and Ives.

The night of our dinner was no exception. In fact all of New England had been blanked by several back to back snowstorms, giving us the feeling that we actually had stepped back into a Currier and Ives world. It was perfect.

As we all filed in, the image was only enhanced by the cheery ambience of the large main dinning room. Wood fires roaring in massive fireplaces and garlands of greens strung all around the room.
But best all was the atmosphere and the people.
The people all seemed to go so well with the place. Large tables filled with families – grandmas, grandpas, moms, dads, kids, nephews, cousins. All dressed for the season in bright holiday sweaters and corduroys or tweed skirts. Everyone eating, drinking, talking and laughing. All so happy to be together at this happy time of year – just having a good time and enjoying one another’s company.

Well almost.

As we were shown to our table I happened to notice that there was a table of several very elegant and sophisticated people who certainly didn’t seem to blend in with the merry throng. And the brief glance that I had of their demeanor as we were seated several table away, seemed to indicate that they had no intention of it either.

Oh well, none of my business. There was certainly more than enough holiday cheer radiating throughout the room to fill even the most jaded of hearts. So peace on earth and good will to all … Or so I thought.

The first order of business I decided as we sat down, was to order up a bottle of the bubbly to toast all of our children finally making it home for Christmas together for the first time in several years My wife was of course delighted, gathering her babies from the four corners of the world. Our oldest boy in from LA after a two day adventure in winter flying. Our daughter finally finished with her continent hopping and happily ensconced back in Boston and our youngest son just returned from Europe.
We had our toast and commenced to catching up. Our twenty-five-year-old daughter, a manager at a publishing company (sadly for her writer Pa, in the medical field, not fiction.) was right in the middle of a very funny story when from out of nowhere an elegantly clad arm fell across her shoulder and a clipped, brittle voice said. “You’re going to have to lower your voice, you’re disturbing us.”
I looked up. It was one of the sophisticated young women from two tables down. She was standing next to my daughter and scowling at her in a disdainful way that I hadn’t seen since Holly Golightly put on her “Dahhhling” act in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Wha-a-at ?

Then the Poppa Bear woke up. Who the “bleep” was this prissy young thing disdainfully sauntering up to my daughter and pretty much calling her a … loudmouth?
My talented, educated daughter sat there stunned. This is a girl that had studied in Europe, been a journalist in the Outback of Australia, and gone skydiving in Switzerland and bungee jumping in New Zealand. She is not easily intimidated. But now – she was speechless. The arrogant young woman had finished delivering her pronouncement and was sashaying back to her table. Mission accomplished. Another family of rubes put in their proper place. The back of my neck began to get warm. I got up.

My wife halfheartedly put her hand on my arm but she was too upset to stop me and I was building up too big a head of steam to care.

I followed the elegant young lady back to her table and, Um-m-m, lets just say proceeded gently but emphatically, to give them ‘a piece’ of a father’s mind.
By the time I got back to our table, the holiday mood had most definitely been punctured, though everyone tried to make the best of it. In fact for the rest of the evening there was a steady parade of fellow diners and even waitresses and busboys that had seen the incident and described the disdainful table as a … Well, I’ll paraphrase and just leave it at “a real bunch of jerks.”

For the next twenty-four hours, my wife continued to lament that the rude, supercilious sophisticates had ruined our first full family reunion in three years.
But by the second day, Christmas Day, the story had started to produce laughter and when I heard the kids teasing and laughing about the whole thing – especially about their hot-tempered old man, I realized that a dinner that might have become just another vaguely pleasant memory among many pleasant holiday dinners at the old inn, was on it’s way to becoming one of those classic family stories. Perhaps one that the kids will even recall and laugh about long after their old man is pushing up daisies.

So remember, the next time one of ‘those things’ happens to you and your family, look at it this way. Maybe it’s just another family memory in the making.

All the best!
Ric

Ric Wasley
Author
• Shadow of Innocence – 2007
• Acid Test – 2004

http://www.kunati.com/shadow-of-innocence-hip-myster/

And please check out my McCarthy Family Mysteries free sample chapters on Amazon and Google!

Baby Boomer article series: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Ric_Wasley

Why I Love Revenue Canada

It was the eleventh hour. I'd written and rewritten my first novel, Taxed to Death, umpteen times over an eight-year period, and finally gave it to a professional editor prior to publishing. And then the question came - the one I hadn't anticipated as a neophyte - the one that ran my blood cold. "Have you run this by Revenue Canada? After all, you're using their name in your book and they might have issues with it." Indeed. My protagonist, Alex Bellamy, is a junior auditor with R.C., his colleague's been murdered, and Alex's investigation leads him to think that someone within R.C. might be involved.

Novel in hand, I sought the advice of an entertainment lawyer and asked him to read the book in search of possible libelous content. While he found none, he advised me to contact R.C., tell them what I was doing and ask permission to use their name in my story. Legally, he told me, R.C., or any real instituion I used, could say no. Having worked too hard and too long to abandon this book, I took his advice to heart.

Did you know there are friendly, helpful people at Revenue Canada, or Revenue Canada Agency as it's now called? After explaining my situation to a woman at the Vancouver Branch, she paused a moment, clearly taken aback by my request. "No one's asked to put us in a novel before," she said. Hmm. I couldn't imagine why. And then she told me that she'd have to speak to higher ups in Ottawa. The prospect of involving Ottawa put me in a cold sweat. If this went badly, I'd either have to scrap the book, risk a lawsuit or, worse, face audits every year for the rest of my life.

Within 48 hours, the woman phoned me back and reported that they'd need an outline of my book and the names of main R.C. characters to run through their database. R.C. wanted to ensure that no one past and present, anywhere in Canada, had those names. At this point, the sweat really began to pour. The names were Alex Bellamy, Andy Gowan, and Kelly Faust. What were the odds?

Astronomical as it turned out. No one had those names and furthermore, R.C. approved the project and wished me well. I have this in writing, in case you were wondering. I couldn't have been happier with their promptness, their courtesy, or more relieved at the outcome.

I'm sharing this to spare other writers the risk of legal problems in their novels. If you intend to use a real institution or corporation in your book, check with them before doing so. A couple of phone calls and an outline is a small price to pay for your peace of mind. Oh yes, and get it in writing.

HOW BAD DO YOU WANT AN AGENT?

by ALVIN ABRAM

I believe that it is any author’s dream to be represented by an agent who will elevate their writings to fame and wealth. It’s mine. But at what cost? That was the question that faced me recently.

I had an agent. I self-published a non-fiction book and was approached by a national publisher who wanted to purchase the rights. The publisher preferred to deal with an agent who knew all the pros and cons of the writing industry and suggested I find an agent. I approached an agency that was just starting and whose principal had a background that was impeccable. He agreed to represent me. He in turn, turned me over to a person who would represent the firm.

As it turned out that individual was a national disaster. I signed what I was to learn one of the worst contracts possible. I gave away everything. Three years passed and too many letters later trying to get the publisher to live up to their own contract, and the agent to do his job, I finally went to the Writers Union for help. After months of representing me, they threw in the towel and recommended I hire a lawyer.

I did. A big lawyer.

Two weeks after being contacted by my lawyer, the publisher offered to return my rights if I gave up any claims against the firm. I agreed. I earned $1,400 in three years in royalties and spent $1,500 in legal fees. If you do the math, I gave up three years of my life for minus $100. At the time I was 64 years old. Time is not a commodity that I can afford to squander. The agent received their full commission and shrugged their shoulders at my problem.

Flash forward to today. I have been approached by an agent interested in representing me. I have now written seven books – all self-published and grossed more than $150,000 of which I donated $20,000 to charity. Do I want an agent to disturb the status quo?

Yes.

I turned this agent down. This is a business. I just didn’t like his contract. I felt I gave up too much. That could be my problem. I’m too much of a free-wheeler. Maybe the reality for me is that I should be satisfied with what I have accomplished. That, too, is difficult to accept. I’m only 71. My next novel will be released in a few months. I’m told I’m at an age when most are thinking of retirement. I tried that. It sucks!

The dream is still there. I have become a local phenomenon. I still dream the dream of any author. I know I can never attain the full extent of that dream alone. But I also can’t attain that goal with just any agent. It has to be someone who believes in my writing and not what they can gain out of me. That’s the harsh reality of what I see. I’m reminded by something my mother once said to me before I wrote my first book. “You are never too old to dream.” So I still dream.

Purchase Belly of the Whale

When A Thought Becomes A Story

There's a great line in the movie Indecent Proposal where an architect holds up a single brick in front of his design class and proclaims, "Even this brick longs to be a building."

Here, the architect underscores a simple and profound fact - small things are the building blocks for larger things. Single ideas are the genesis of larger ideas. And, one thought can be the first brick to building a larger story.

Inspiring, isn't it?

Here's a picture of how one of my curious thoughts about geneaology so wanted to become a novel that it would not cease until it was done. Brick by brick. Word by word. Draft by draft. Rejection after rejection. Year by year for the last 60 plus months until it was realized.




Got a thought today? Don't give up. See it through.

It very well may be the difference between a single idea on piece of notebook paper and a bound book.

www.karenharringtonbooks.com