Posts Tagged ‘travelers’

Introducing Author Jenny Schwartz

December 3, 2010

Welcome Jenny:
It’s a pleasure having you here. W e look forward to your sharing your thoughts on writing.

“Write what you know” is an oft-repeated piece of writing wisdom. But I don’t believe it. Passion is far more important. If you’re passionate about what you’re writing, it strengthens your commitment to the long, lonely process and it shares the energy of your enthusiasm with your readers.
When I started writing “Angel Thief” I knew my heroine had to be an archivist. I’m passionate about the importance of knowledge. Lost knowledge makes me want to scream. I shudder to think of the ancient Library of Alexandria burning.
Studying sociology probably impacted my reverence for knowledge. I kept hearing the Foucauldian “truth” that knowledge IS power and power, knowledge. When we lose knowledge, we lose something of who we could have been.
So I created Sara, my angel archivist, who sees her role as “the Indiana Jones of data recovery”. At the moment when a document (and its knowledge) will be destroyed and lost forever to the species who created it, she dashes in and rescues it. I’d like to imagine that the lost works of the ancient world exist in a heavenly archive.
That’s the beauty of writing fiction. You can take your passion for an issue, explore it, share it, and finally, give it a happy ending. Because in my fiction (whether reading or writing), I insist on a happy ending.
Thanks]
Angel Thief, published by Carina Press
http://bit.ly/AngThief

She’s breaking the rules. Again.

An archivist in the heavenly library, Sara must follow protocol when it comes to curating the knowledge of the universe. But “liberating” an ancient text from the collection of a human—an Australian drug lord—could save a boy’s life. Sara has no way of knowing that one of the man’s other treasures is a sexy-as-sin djinni, bound by a wish to guard the estate.

He’s only following orders.

Filip is compelled to turn over intruders, even celestial ones, to his master. When he catches Sara in the library, he isn’t above indulging in some sensual kisses with her, or using her to trick the mobster into wasting a wish. It’s what he must do to preserve his facade of freedom and protect his heart.

But the kidnapping of the drug lord’s daughter forces Sara and Filip to work together—bringing out the hero that lurks within the soul of the djinni, and the passion within the angel.

***
You can find Jenny:
at her website http://www.authorjennyschwartz.com/
blogging http://www.acquiring-magic.blogspot.com/
or on Twitter @Jenny_Schwartz http://twitter.com/jenny_schwartz

Download hot ebooks from Carina Press
YOu will also gind Jenny’s eBook at http://www.barnesandnoble.com, http://www.amazon.com and http://www.borders.com and wherever eBooks are sold

Melbourne’s Trams

October 25, 2010


A complimentary ride on Melbourne’s City Circle will introduce my husband and me to a city famous for its network of trams. Wide streets, tree-lined boulevards, gardens and history await us as we travel along Flinders Street in a colorful burgundy tram with gold and cream trim

The city’s first horse trams began on a suburban line in 1884; cable trams were initiated one year later. In 1889, electric trams took over and the City Circle Line has served tourists and city residents since 1936.

We spot the City Circle logo and board at Treasury Gardens; the oldest in Melbourne. Directly to the rear is Fitzroy Gardens and Captain James Cook’s Cottage commemorating the English navigator, his life and his voyages in the southern hemisphere.

The next stop is the Gold Treasury Museum; we’re interested in its permanent collection Built on Gold. Eight of the vaults that stored the gold bullion now show how Victoria’s precious metal fashioned Melbourne’s destiny – the diggings, bush rangers who attacked the diggers on their journey to Melbourne to sell nuggets or dust, buyers working the fields who offered diggers a lower price than banks and bullion merchants and escort troops who charged one shilling per ounce of gold.

By switching to Tram No.16 at Swanton Street and St. Kilda Road, visitors may travel to the Shrine of Remembrance – a memorial completed in 1934 – dedicated to men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice to preserve freedom. A climb to the top of the complex is rewarded with magnificent views of Melbourne’s skyline. Tram No.16 also carries beach lovers to St. Kilda where Melbourne’s citizens walk and cycle along the palm lined shore, sit at outdoor cafés, and gaze at Port Phillip Bay’s panoramic scenes.

Back on the City Circle Tram the following day, we arrive at Melbourne’s Aquarium where Giant Sharks and Sting Rays reside in a 2.2 million litre oceanarium then onward to La Trobe Street where Flagstaff Gardens is located on the highest sector of land in the city. A shiver of fear attacks when we stop at the Old Melbourne Gaol, the site of 135 hangings between 1842 and 1929 including that of infamous bush ranger Ned Kelly.

The tram turns on Spring Street where the Princess Theatre home welcomes generations of theatre goers, luminaries and ghosts. Notably, the ghost of the baritone “Frederici,” who died of a heart attack while performing Mephistopheles in Gounod’s opera Faust; another shiver when I learn he returned to take his bow.

We wait for Tram No. 55 on Elizabeth Street; the tram will deposit us at the Queen Victoria Market. More than 1000 stalls offer meat, fish, bakery products, fruit, vegetables and an abundance of general merchandise and knick-knacks. Cafes are close to the Queen Victoria and Sundays a wine market is in residence.

This is the second century of electric trams in Melbourne; providing a delightful and inexpensive overview of Melbourne and the inner suburbs.
For more information about me-log on to http://www.elisewarner.com My cozy mystery eBook is available at http://www.bn.com, http://www.amazon.com, http://www.borders.com, http://www.carinapress.com
Carina Press: Your next great read!
and wherever eBooks are sold. Scene Stealer is also procued as an audio book by http://www.audible.com

Listen to a Bestseller for $7.49 at audible.com!

Scene Stealer at Book Lovers Book Reviews

October 10, 2010


“The World is Beautiful Today…” Received a 4/5 rating for Scene Stealer at http://www.bookloverbookreviews.com Book Lover is a reviewer-Joanne P. who is an Australia. Jo also did an interview with me and I couldn’t be more pleased. Please take a trip Down Underand leave a comment.
I’ve been to that marvelous, magical country three times and have fallen in love with it from the tropical rain forest to Alice. From kangeroos and koalas to the smallest penguins in the world.
If you’d like to know more about me, please log on to http://www.elisewarner.com My cozy mystery is available at http://www.barnesandnoble.com, http://www.amazon.com, http://www.borders.com, http://www.carinapress.com
Download hot ebooks from Carina Press
and wherever eBooks are sold. An audio version will be released by http://www.audible.com on Oct. 15

TENT SHOW

October 8, 2010

Platea is two gas stations and a general store somewhere in the area of Erie, Pennsylvania. Not even a dot on the map. Hard to find-I know-I could never find the place again.
When I was in my middle teens, I was offered a job for the summer as ingénue with a traveling tent show whose owners lived in a small ramshackle house in Platea. Ready, willing and eager, I joined the troupe of seven that included a leading lady and leading man, a juvenile, two character actors and a utility man. We rehearsed for a week in a second and larger house that hadn’t seen tenants for a long while; we cooked on a kerosene stove and our personnel needs were taken care of in an outhouse in back where seven rats resided, or so our leading man claimed. He gave each rat a name; the names were originally ours alone.
We would present plays like Uncle Tom’s Cabin-I doubled playing Little Eve and Eliza. I would cross the ice with a doll-representing a baby-in my arms as I tried to escape the bloodhounds chasing us, race down the stairs, discard my bandana and the smock, that covered Little Eva’s white dress, place the doll on a table, pull on a blonde wig and return to the stage where I rested my dying body on a pallet.
One memorable performance the stairs weren’t in place and I stepped from the stage into space. I ignored the pain, quickly made the fast change and clambered back on stage. The lights came up. Uncle Tom began singing a hymn, looked at me and then began to stifle giggles. Blood seeped through the dress adding a bit of authenticity to my role and distressing the owners.
During intermissions, we would sell an orange drink concoction and bags of popcorn; twice a week, after the show-for an additional half-dollar-we would put on an afterpiece that included comedy sketches, songs and dances. The theme of one afterpiece was the roaring twenties; we’d dress ourselves in flapper costumes, dance the Charleston and sing a number that went
We’re working our way through college,
To get a lot of knowledge,
That we’ll probably never, ever use again.
There were six different plays-one for each night of the show week. Among them, The Cohens and The Kellys similar to a Broadway play titled Abie’s Irish Rose that defied critics and ran for years and Your Country Cousin about a bumpkin that outsmarts everyone. Saturday nights, we tore down the set after the performance-I was in charge of making sandwiches for the crew-then we drove to the next town. I sat next to the popcorn machine. The next morning, it was my job to walk through the streets, find strong teen-age boys and offer them free tickets to the show in exchange for help in putting up the tent and the benches. I thought of myself as the Pied Piper of Pennsylvania.
Just like Broadway, our motto was “The Show Must Go On” and go on it did no matter how sick we were. I came down with the flu in one town and spent several days in bed. Out leading lady was kind enough to iron my costumes but at night I trod the boards. One afternoon as I lay on the bed sleeping, a noise woke me up and I saw several children sneaking a quick look at me from the doorway. The enterprising young son of our boarding house owner had sold a few tickets at twenty-five cents apiece–for a chance to peep at the ingénue-to his friends.
On a road trip to Erie one year, my husband and I tried to find Platea; I wanted to show him the old house where we rehearsed, the general store where we bought chips, bologna and sodas, the outhouse I avoided as much as humanly possible. But Platea was changed or gone and-except in my memory-I couldn’t go back.

For more information about me, please log on to http://www.elisewarner.com My mystery titled SCENE STEALER is availbel at http://www.barnesandnoble.com, http://www.amazon.com, http://www.borders.com, http://www.carinapress.com
Carina Press: Your next great read!
and wherever eBooks are sold An audio version will be released by http://www.audible.com on Oct. 15.
.

Housework

October 6, 2010

I will do almost anything to keep from cleaning. Dusting, using the vacuum cleaner, washing the floors, sinks, and toilets. And I can just about sew on a button-my grandmother saved me from flunking sewing class in school. Cooking is fun and sometimes a way to relax but I want to spend my time writing. A mystery, a non-fiction article and a blog.
Walking, for me, lends itself to ideas and reading stimulates. Theatre and museums and dinner in a lovely, comfortable restaurant are my favorite ways to spend leisure time. Travel is exciting and opens my mind to new ideas, new foods, lives that are different from mine and yet-the same in so many ways.
I caught the travel bug at an early age and have never stopped wanting to travel. So many stories Is it inspiration? Perhaps it’s the adventure.
For more information about me: Please log on to http://www.elisewarner.com

SCENE STEALER, my mystery is available at http://www.barnesandnoble.com, http://www.amazon.com, http://www.borders.com, http://www.carinaprress.com
Carina Press: Your next great read!
and wheerever eBooks are sold

Make Yourself At Home

September 27, 2010


We’re in Rotorua, New Zealand and our day had begun with a not to be missed learning experience at the Whakarewarewa Thermal Village; a living Maori village bordered by hot thermal springs, bubbling mud pools and steaming vapor discharged through vents. Guides welcome us with the story of Rangi, their sky father, and Papatuanuki, the earth mother and the tribe’s history. For me, a writer, I listen to the stories with the anticipation of a child.
Several guides talk of a personal genealogical past that goes back 25 generations. Forty thousand years ago, the Maori of WhakarewarewaValley believed that here the Goddesses of fire, Te Pupu and Te Hoa rose from the center of the earth. As they drew and exhaled breath, geysers, mud pools and hot springs were born. Seven, amongst the approximately 65 vents are active and there are at least 500-mud pools. Visitors are impressed with Po Hutu which sometimes erupts to 98.3 feet. Residents use the hot steam from Roturua’s thermal wonderland to heat homes, cook, warm hot tubs, and immerse themselves in geothermal mud baths for a relaxing beauty treatment.
Te Puia, adjacent to Whakarewarewa, presents three Maori Cultural Performances a day. Stories are told through song and movement with the beguiling Poi dance, a war dance (Haka) and games performed with sticks where the dexterous performer dances with eight high flying rods.
Conservation is of major importance at Te Puia; in 1976, the Kiwi House opened; the house became a sanctuary for injured birds and by 1999, a breeding program was introduced. Te Puia is committed to the survival of New Zealand’s national symbol as well as other birds that live and thrive in this sheltered and natural environment.
Ancient arts and crafts are taught at Te Puia to insure the preservation of Maori traditions for future generations. Masters teach a three-year course in carving to 12 full-time students from all over New Zealand; The School of Weaving offers practical hands on teaching. Designs that stem from each tribe’s history are often employed and the work is exhibited all over the world. The shop offers artwork that ranges from carved wall hangings to serving bowls to woven art. The crafts are all beautifully fashioned by students and graduates.
A perfect day in Rotorua, 220 miles S.E. of Auckland, New Zealand in the heart of the Taupo Volcanic zone, was drawing to an end for two happy travelers. My husband and I finish a superb dinner at Zanellis, accompanied by a refreshingly different New Zealand fruit wine. The restaurant has appealed to hungry diners in downtown Rotorua for over twenty years. Satisfied, we stroll through the square; stop and enjoy line dancing performed by a group of Maori women to the strains of Begin the Beguine. The sound of a jazz band beckons us to the far corner of the square; the music is irresistible and we join the locals dancing in the street.
To learne more about me, please log on to http://www.elisewarner.com My eBook titled Scene Stealer is available at http://www.barnesandnoble.com, http://www.amazon.com, http://www.borders.com, http://www.carinapress.com and wherever eBooks are sold
Carina Press: Your next great read!

Little Devil

September 20, 2010

Fierce and ugly, with forty-two needle-sharp teeth by the age of two, the terrier-sized Tasmanian Devil is not the most loved of Australia’s marsupials. But on a visit to the Tasmanian Devil Park and Wildlife Rescue Center in the Port Arthur region of Tasmania, Australia, my husband and I met a little Devil that the unwary might find as cuddly as a plush toy.
The jet-black, course-furred, eight-month old was an orphan being raised in the park’s nursery; this carnivore’s sleepy appearance gives him a look of complete innocence. A triangle of white accents his hindquarters and matches a strip across his chest; dark eyes and pink ears complete the picture. Born blind and deaf, young Devils called “Joeys,” have bad eyesight and flash photos are forbidden. Lactose intolerant, infants are fed special formulas to keep them healthy. It takes about forty weeks to wean a baby and Joeys are encouraged to drink from bowls as soon as possible. At about five and one-half months they begin to teeth and chew on bony shin bits.
A loner, the Devil begins to breed by the age of two; the female visits the male den for a interlude of about two weeks in March and the blessed event takes place about three weeks later. At birth, the Devil has been described as being the size of a jellybean. Up to thirty “Jelly beans” try to make their way to their mother’s backward-styled pouch; nature’s way of ensuring that dirt doesn’t enter when mom is tearing into carrion. Since there are just four teats in the pouch only three or four survive. The Joeys latch onto mother’s milk teats for about three months then they’re left in their grass and leaf lined den – a cave, a hollow log or an old wombat burrow – while mom forages for food. Later, they may hitch a ride on her back or follow along behind. Though they achieve independence by twenty-eight weeks and are agile enough to climb a tree, many never reach maturity as predators often attack them. At night, these nocturnal creatures usually meander along secondary roads looking for road-kill; unfortunately automobiles often hit them as they feast on a diet of wallaby, rodents or lizards. A Devil, fortunate enough to survive the hazards Devils face, may reach the age of six to eight years.
Grown Devils feed at 11:00 am; the former jelly bean now has a broad head, reminiscent of a bear, a muzzle with long whiskers and a squat body with a short, thick tail and back paws with four toes. Devils enjoy nothing so much as a good fight or chase around the enclosure; when angry their pink ears turn red with increased blood flow. Weighing anywhere from nine to twenty-six pounds, they’re particularly aggressive when it comes to food. Snorts, whistles, growls, screeches and demonic screams, worthy of a Stephen King horror movie, rend the air when a Devil protects its find or a competitor ignores the challenge of a sharp sneeze. An overwrought Devil emits a pungent odor only a deodorant manufacturer would enjoy. Often a Devil will sport scars or missing patches of fur earned in combat. Endowed with the strongest jaws and teeth of any animal, nothing edible goes to waste when this marsupial devours carrion or prey. The Tasmanian Devils at the Park are either orphans or have been bred here. Females and their young are kept separate from the males who exhibit no paternal pride in their offspring and would make a happy meal of them.
Fossils have been found all over Australia, but living Devils are alive and well only in Tasmania, having lost a battle over the same food supply favored by the Dingo, a wild dog brought to the mainland by the Indigenous People over 600-years ago. The Dingo never crossed the 150-mile Bass Strait that separates the Island of Tasmania from the southeastern mainland and here, the Devil survives.
A rough period for Devils began in 1830; farmers considered them a nuisance as they ate livestock and poultry. Van Dieman’s Land Company paid a bounty of twenty-five cents for males and thirty-five cents for females and many a Devil was poisoned or caught in a trap. It wasn’t until June 1941, that Devils came under the protection of the law. Today they are a symbol of the Tasmanian National Parks and Wildlife Service and farmers realize they have a place in the food chain; they clean up the carrion that would pollute the land and prey on mice and other pests that consume agricultural produce. NOTE: Since our visit, the Tasmanian population has been devastated by disease. Australian scientists and medical personnel are doing their best to find a cure and keep the Devil from extinction.
The Tasmanian Devil Park offers shelter to other animals in need of medical assistance and loving care. Visitor may spot a hand raised Brush-Tailed Possum curled up in a log or a Long-nosed Potoroo (a small Marsupial,) recovering from a broken pelvis or engage in a staring contest with two Tasmanian Masked Owls. The owls – one with only one wing and one with a broken wing seem as interested in us as we are in them. Wedge-Tailed Eagles, White Parakeets, a Pacific Gull, Green Rosellas, who can no longer fly because of damaged wings, and a parrot who doesn’t appreciate travelers, and is likely to take a nibble, also find a haven here. We were able to walk amongst orphaned marsupials – the name comes from the Latin word meaning pouch – as Bennett’s Wallabies and Forester Kangaroos are comfortably situated in a large field. When rehabilitated they return to the wild. A Conservation Centre for Raptors, in association with the National Parks and Wildlife Service, was completed in October of 2001 and is used for breeding and conservation of rare birds of prey. At the present time, anyone seeking a Tasmanian Tiger at the park is doomed to disappointment. There have been no sightings since the 1930’s but the Tiger is wholly protected by the National Parks and Wildlife Act of 1970 and many believe the Tiger still lives in a thick Tasmanian Forest.
for more information about me, please visit http://www.elisewarner.com, My cozy mystery titled Scene Stealer may be purchased at carinapress.com. barnesandnoble.com, amazon.com, broders.com and anywherre eBooks are sold

Shift

July 14, 2010

My thoughts have been focused on Scene Stealer for the last few months. Now it’s published and off and running and it’s time to think about a short story I began right before I recieved that very special call from Angela James at Carina Press asking if I were interested in the mystery’s publication.
The characters in my short story lived many centuries ago in Italy. I have to time-travel back to another time and another place and share another adventure with people I will get to know, love and perhaps dislike or even hate. We’ll see what happens.

One Right Shoe

June 13, 2010

I read about archeologists finding one right shoe buried under piles of sheep dung. The shoe, 5,500-years old was discoverd by a student in Armenia. Her dream come true. Everyone wonders what might have happened to the left? The shoe was well made; leather with laces and most likely belonged to the upper crust. The imagination can just run wild with this story. I thought, for a brief moment about becoming an archeologist before realizing it would be hard to find indoor plumbing.

Memorial Day

May 31, 2010

On the west side of the Greve river, approximately 7.5 miles south of Florence, Italy, set against a backdrop of hills dense with London Plane trees, headstones belonging to 4,402 American Military Dead stand on 70 acres of foreign soil. Pine, cypress, willow, oak and cedar trees enclose the section along with oleander, crepe myrtle and laurel-cherry shrubs.
A bridge set between the cemetery office and the visitor’s center at the entrance to the cemetery leads us to row after row of crosses and stars of David. The cemetery is hushed except for the occasional rustle of a leaf or a bird’s fragment of song. We wander among the headstones that bear the names and dates of birth of the servicemen and women who were lost to friends, loved ones and our nation. Here and there, we see a pebble placed on a stone; a way to say “We are here. We came to see you. We will never forget you.”
Americans, traveling through the area, stop at the cemetery, on the west side of the Via Cassia, a major highway that links Florence with Rome and Sienna, to pay their respects to the heroes who made the ultimate sacrifice in World War II. The majority died in the fighting that occurred after the liberation of Rome in June 1944 and during the fierce battles in the Apennines right before the end of the war.
The cemetery is one of 14 permanent memorials built by the American Battle Monuments Commission. The site (liberated on August 3, 1944 by the South African 6th Armored Division) and the stone used to construct the chapel and headstones was supplied by Italy.
On the highest of three terraces located in back of the burial site are two open sections partially enclosed by walls; to the east is the American flag. Tablets of the Missing, constructed of Travertine stone, connect the two sections. Visitors barely breathe as they read the Baveno granite panels; on the tablets are inscribed the names of 1,409 Americans (United States Army and Air Forces and the United States Navy) who died in our nation’s service and rest in nameless graves. They came from every state in our union but Alaska and Hawaii.
Men study the north section’s west wall where two marble operations maps tell the story of the American Forces in the area. Inscriptions in English and Italian provide an explanation for the maps and the military operations. A forecourt at the south end of the tablets leads to a marble and mosaic chapel; a place to meditate and pray for the peace represented in a sculpture that rests on a pylon.
The Florence American Cemetery and Memorial is open daily from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm from April 16 to September 30 and from 8:00am to 5:00pm from October 1 to April 15. Staff members in the visitors’ building will accompany family members to the graves and memorial sites.