My books are FREE this weekend!

P_20200710_080428All of my book babies are FREE this weekend!! 🖤💙(Friday thru Sunday). Find the books here:  my Amazon Author’s Page.

I would love to find some new readers and get some more reviews, especially for my Hope Quest books (Hope Quest book 1: Blackbird and Hope Quest book 2: The Lightning), a YA, supernatural, coming of age series about 14 year old Hope, an unusual girl who speaks in a whisper and occasionally pulls stars from the sky, and her motley group of friends, whose search for Hope’s strange origins takes them to STARfest, a rock festival, where they find enigmatic musician Blackbird and discover his dark connection to Hope.

I also have two poetry and dance photography collections (I’ve worked as a children’s photographer for the last decade): Elegant Execution and The Stars Went Out.

So, if you are looking a summer read or two (or four!), please check out my books and consider leaving a review if you liked them! I would be forever appreciative. Those reviews are gold for indie authors like me!!! 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Persistent whispers

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I really didn’t want to do it.  Homeschooling my dyslexic son was on the very bottom of my things I’d like to do in this life list and although my husband and I had already kicked around the idea and I had expressed that maybe I would homeschool him next year, I was really just dragging my feet hoping for something else or someone else to step in and present themselves as the answer to our problems.  The little voice in the back of my head, that persistent little whisper that had been there since my son was two, when I first started to become aware of his language and learning difficulties, the one that always said what I wasn’t willing to admit, told me there was no rescue coming.  It said, “you are all he has.”

I desperately didn’t want to believe it.

And then, six weeks into my son’s grade four year, at yet another school meeting with the teacher, the principal and a myriad of other admins who had simply passed the buck by passing my son through grade after grade, year after year, knowing full well he couldn’t read and not wanting to deal with his recent dyslexia diagnosis (no one at the meeting could even bring themselves to say the word dyslexia outloud -well, except me, who said it constantly and loudly knowing it HAD to be addressed if my son was to have any chance of success in school), the house of cards that had been my son’s inefficient education finally and completely, collapsed.  Through yelling and tears (and not just mine), it was made abundantly clear that no one at the school was willing to help my son in the way that he needed to be helped.  So, my husband and I gave up the fight, we collected our son from his classroom and went home to wage our own battle.

Sitting at the kitchen table with my boy the next morning, knowing that his education was now completely in my hands and my hands only was as scary and daunting as sitting in my dorm room in college away from home for the first time had been.  It was a spine-tingling sort of realization of “Oh my godI’ve done it.  I’m here.  Now what??”

The two years that followed (much like my two years of college) were some of the most challenging, yet rewarding times I’ve ever had the pleasure of going through and growing through – and most importantly, it had the same impact on my son.

During those long hard years of homeschooling / reading remediation, my son went from reading four years behind grade level (that equated to not knowing the alphabet in grade four) to reading at grade level.  He revelled in finally being able to read his Harry Potter books to himself.  I’d listen at his closed bedroom door with tears in my eyes as he carefully and haltingly read outloud.  It tugged at my mommy heartstrings just like hearing his first words and seeing his first steps had done – but moreso because learning how to read (and for me, learning how to teach him to read) had been a steep, steep mountain for both of us to climb.  But, even on my worst days, that persistent little whisper in the back of my head was my constant cheerleader, believing in me and what I was doing even when I wasn’t too sure of anything at all.  “You’re the only one who can and will help him,” it told me, “so keep going!”  So I did.

Two years have passed since I wrapped up homeschooling and put my son back into the school system. He just finished grade 7.  He still has his struggles (and always will) because of his dyslexia, but his reading has continued to improve and stay consistent with his grade level.  I couldn’t be prouder of him, even as that persistent whisper in the back of my head has continued.

“Keep helping,” it has told me for two years now.  “There’s more like him.”

And it’s true.

While homeschooling, so many of my mom friends shared their own frustrations at their child’s poor reading skills and the inability of the school to provide appropriate or effective resources to help and so many came to the same sad conclusion, “I can’t do anything about it.  I’m not self-employed like you are, so I can’t homeschool.”

That was true, too.  Being self-employed as a photographer for the past decade has allowed me to schedule my work around my kids and their needs and I was able to move from full to part time employment in order to homeschool.  But then, the pandemic happened and in March I closed up my studio, thinking it would be temporary, but instead, it offered the silence needed for those whispers to get louder.

 

This summer, I will finish up my Orton-Gillingham certification and will close my photography business.  This fall, I will start a new venture:  Rock Star Readers, a reading tutor service for kids.

Those persistent whispers in my head finally made their way to my heart and now I trust them to lead me where they may.

 

 

What the silence has to say

quiet _ lune

I’m still trying to find my footing in this new place.  Having to shut down my photography studio last month, needing to apply for unemployment benefits for the first time ever, adjusting to online / homeschooling with my kids – two of whom would rather do anything else than sit at a computer to do schoolwork with their mom  (and trust me, most days the feeling is mutual) – it’s all wrecked havoc with my emotions, my focus, my motivation, especially when it comes to my writing.

Entering into my second year as an indie author, I had had some very concrete plans in place and up until early March, I was working on them almost daily.

And then….well, we’re all familiar with what happens when we’re busy making other plans – a pandemic  – no sorry,  life happens, or at least some semblance of life as we used to know it.  For me, this new life hit like a mini cyclone, wiping out my job, my income, my schedule, my routine, my drive, my direction, and sense of purpose in just a matter of days.

Gone.  Finito.  Kaput.

One month in and the dust seems to be settling a bit, although I struggle some days with navigating this new normal and other days I still feel plain lost, I have come to appreciate the quiet that has fallen around us.

My calendar is now blank. My schedule is now free of appointments. The pressure to do, to be, to get it all done has lifted and amongst this new quiet, I’ve had time to sit and listen to the silence that it has brought.  It has a lot to say, but mostly it’s message is to listen and to wait for what’s next.

So I will.

Between the pages, between the cracks

crackI never feel more alone than I do when I am amongst a crowd.  I’ve always felt that way.  Just out of place with everyone and everything. I don’t stress about it too much.  I figure that’s just what makes me who I am.  And I like who I am.  I enjoy my own company, to be really honest.  But at the same time, there are periods when I want to belong, when I want to be accepted, when I want to be a part of something bigger than just me because sometimes being alone a lot becomes, well….lonely.

I have a very small family and I have very few friends.  Being introverted and, for the most part, very private, it takes a lot for me to let others into my tiny circle.  I don’t care for small talk and anything that is popular in the mainstream usually turns me off.  I’ve always been drawn to the outsiders, the outcasts, everything and anything on the fringe.

Maybe that’s why I was always drawn to writing.  It’s the perfect occupation for an outsider, an outcast and can and often is done on the fringes of society, away from the crowd.  I feel most comfortable when I am alone and writing.  But I sure would love for some of that writing to be read at some point.

Rachel Carson so beautifully wrote about the loneliness of creative work:

“If you write what you yourself sincerely think and feel and are interested in, the chances are very high that you will interest other people as well.”

I like to keep that in mind when I am writing – alone in my head, alone at my keyboard, feeling as though I am sending my thoughts and words out to no one.

If I keep at it, maybe people will eventually read my work.  Maybe my words will resonate somewhere, with someone and maybe, just maybe, I might be accepted and finally find my place amongst that crowd.

 

 

 

My book is FREE this weekend!

Screenshot_2019-05-14 Kindle Cover CreatorMy first book, Hope Quest book 1: Blackbird is FREE today (Friday, Feb. 21 thru Sunday, Feb. 23)!!  Get it here.  It is the first part of my Hope Quest trilogy (Hope Quest book 2: The Lightning also available and book 3 still to come this year).  Cosmic and supernatural, the story is set at a music festival with punk kids and musicians, and a strange girl named Hope who speaks in a whisper and occasionally pulls stars from the sky.  The story came to me in a series of dreams when I was 15 and a fun fact, my own fifteen-year-old daughter graces the cover!

I would love for you to check it out and if you like it, please consider leaving me a review on Amazon!  Those reviews are gold for indie writers like me!!

The Measure of Everything

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Two of the most powerful attributes that humans possess are:

1)  the ability to LOVE

2) the ability to CREATE

Having spent my formative years under the thumb of a restrictive parental figure: I was not allowed to say “I want”, I never heard the phrase “I love you” (certainly was never inspired to speak the words either) and my creative endeavors were always overlooked and dissuaded – the idea of living a creative life was laughed at and labeled a “pipe dream” – I’ve spent my adult years learning both how to express love and how to express myself – including allowing myself to express both my needs AND my wants.

 

In the process, I’ve discovered a deep, rich and untapped well of passions lying dormant inside of me. 

 

It’s taken many, many years of learning, growing, stretching myself beyond my comfort zone and oftentimes just plain scaring myself, but the faster my heart beats and more anxious I feel, the more that well gets churned, and the deeper and deeper I am able to dip into it – loving, creating (particularly, writing) and allowing myself, finally and freely, to express myself.

It hasn’t always made me the most popular girl around – especially within my own family!! – but I refuse to censor myself, to keep my emotions or my wants or needs repressed any longer.

It was no way to live. 

With a heart full of love and a head full of stories, neither of which were wanted or allowed to be expressed, my memories of childhood and adolescence boil down to being simply a very unhappy time for a very unhappy kid.

But now, I am the parent and as so, I have always encouraged my children to express themselves in every positive and negative way they see fit – and they are growing up to be the most loving and creative people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing!

 

My measure of everything in life now lies in how much that well of passion gets churned by the thought of a new project, new adventure or new endeavor:

If it’s not a ‘hell yeah!’   Then it’s a ‘no’.

                      (the unhappy kid inside of me smiles whenever she hears that)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Visibility Lessons

alexander-krivitskiy-8Z8JijlydJs-unsplash (cue the tiny violins)….I wrote my last poem today.  Things just weren’t working out.  The amount of energy I was expending on them, losing sleep to get those lines out of my head, onto paper (initially – usually scrawled at 4 am by dimmed light with blurry eyes and a tired hand) and then getting them into just the right poetic order, searching for just the right stock photo, getting it onto Instagram at just the right time suggested by Insights………..only to get maybe 20 likes and generally zero comments.  It just wasn’t working.  It wasn’t what I wanted for my poems, those tiny pieces of huge emotions that I felt just secure enough to release to the world.  It just wasn’t working.

They were all falling flat. The message was being lost.  The words were unraveling.  Over and over again.

And it was making me feel…..broken.

So, I wrote my last one today.  It’s not my best one, but it took just as much time and care and attention as all the rest, so it’s just as important – and once I decide to publish it, I know it will suffer the same fate as all the rest.  “I’m sorry little poem,” I’d often say just before posting them, “you’re going to go die a slow death on Insta now.  I’m so sorry.”

But, in a way, I’m not.

I’m not sorry because I have written hundreds of those poems over the years and now I have hundreds to submit to literary magazines in a quest to get traditionally published for the first time in too many years.  My poetry audience wasn’t on Instagram, but maybe there are eager eyes looking somewhere else for my work, so I’m going hunting for them now, putting my energies into finding just the right magazines, submitting at just the right times for their deadlines.

Being invisible to some eyes doesn’t necessarily mean being invisible to all the eyes out there.  I know someone, somewhere will see my work – and now I can concentrate my own eyes on writing the three novels I currently have in the works.

I did start this year with a publication. A literary magazine in Indiana accepted one  of my dance photos – not one of my poems – but something of mine found an audience! It’s getting published!

I’ve found my first set of eyes.

 

My books are FREE!!

Screenshot_2019-05-14 Kindle Cover Creator6 months ago today, I started my indie author journey with the release of my poetry and dance photography collection, Elegant Execution.  One month after that, I released my novel, Hope Quest book 1: Blackbird.  To celebrate, I am offering both books (e-book versions) FREE today and tomorrow (Friday and Saturday)!!!  Links in the titles.

Hope Quest is the story of an unusual 14 year old girl (Hope) who speaks in a whisper and has some unique abilities in regards to the stars.  In her search for her family, to uncover questions about her strange abilities, she stumbles across Blackbird, the enigmatic frontman for Meteoric Rise, at a music festival, and her search takes some very dark and twisted turns.  Hope Quest does contain disturbing and triggering material and is not for the faint of heart!

I had the story in my head since I was 15 years old and it helped get me through some dark times in my life.  My own 15 year old daughter is on the cover.  It took me two years to write the full 550 page story, which I am breaking up into a trilogy.   Hope Quest book 2: The Lightning will be released later this year.

Go download the books!  They’re free, they’re cool and you just might like them!  Remember to leave me a review on Amazon and / or Goodreads, too.  As an indie author, those reviews are gold!!

Elegant Execution ~ FREE this weekend!

Screenshot_2019-06-17 Elegant Execution - Kindle edition by Melanie Ever Moore Literature Fiction Kindle eBooks Amazon com   My debut poetry and dance photography book, Elegant Execution, is FREE today and tomorrow as an e-book! 

Here’s the link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QM3H999

41 dark and haunting poems of love and loss and the strength to endure it, interspersed with black and white photos of young dancers, representing innocence lost.

The book was originally released in April of this year and was my first go at self-publishing.  It was also my way of dealing with a difficult childhood and youth, and trying to turn that pain into something more palatable for me, maybe even, beautiful.

The six young dancers are all from my community and did an amazing job.

My next poetry and photography book, The Stars Went Out, will be released in October.

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