The Power Of The Written Word

 Power of the Written Word
Painting, Konstantin Somov – Lovers in the Evening

I don’t know what made me start thinking one night about the books I had read which impacted my thoughts, behavior or life in some way.  Once I started I could not stop.  There aren’t enough hours in a day to write my complete list so here is a quickie.

Stephen King:

The Stand – After reading The Stand, I couldn’t move fast enough from people who were sniffling, sneezing or coughing.  Didn’t want to touch anything in public either.  Dogs and cars? Sometimes I give them a wide berth too (Cujo, Christine).

Salem’s Lot and Desperation – Small towns?  No thank you!  I don’t want to live in them, drive through them or pass relatively close to them.  Airlines have become my best friend.  Yeah, yeah…I know he wrote a book about that too.

Cell – Now you know why I don’t answer my cell phone.

Sol Stein:

The Husband – It taught me to have sympathy and understanding for the supposed bad guy.  Of course when it happened to me, all that empathizing went right out the window.  I tried to dust the floor with the guy!  The novel vaguely reminded me of Henry Miller’s, Sexus.

Elizabeth McNeill:

Nine ½ Weeks – I must have been about fifteen when I read it.  Boy, did it open my eyes to a sexual world I never knew existed.   Of course I had written erotica since the third grade.  So by fifteen I thought I knew it all.  From a writer’s perspective of course, not experience.  My book debut, Light My Fire, inspired by The Doors and Jose Feliciano, was an instant hit but almost an automatic suspension.

Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning:

My Last Duchess, Men and Women, The Love Letters of Elizabeth and Robert Browning, and Sonnets of the Portuguese – It is not so much the books and poems themselves that effected me but the tone and the sentiment that was conveyed in every line.  The love and influence the couple had upon each other is apparent in their writings.  I love poetry, but to this day, never having read those lines since my early high school days, I can still quote “How do I Love Thee” verse for verse.  I wanted a love like that.  Did I get it?  Well…    Their book of love letters also inspired me to write my own;  my first published book, To The One I Love.

Clive Barker:

Books of Blood – Talk about nightmares! This collection of short stories had me screaming in the night but I still came back for more.  Since all his books have the same result, I didn’t bother to list more than one.

Janet Evanovich:

Stephanie Plum Novels –  She taught me you can be destitute, have a broken-down car that probably won’t last more than a few weeks or months, have a ex-ho for a best friend, be resourceful, clueless and still get the job done.  Not to mention have two hot guys chasing after you.

Robin Cook:

Almost everything he’s published:   I learned don’t trust blood banks, organ donors cards, doctors, injections, genetic testing and HMOs.  And for Pete’s sake, never…ever…jog alone, let others breath on you, look at you, or stand next to you!  An ambulance you say?  No thanks, I’ll grab a cab.  His novels gave me “white coat syndrome” for sure.  Unfortunately I don’t regret the introduction.

G.A. McKevett:

Savannah Reid Mysteries – Her books leave no doubt that a curvy girl can have a crazy family, a cheap boyfriend/husband, loyal friends and still kick ass, mentally, intellectually and physically.

John Sandford:

The Lucas Davenport Novels – Don’t get me wrong, I certainly wouldn’t pass up Virgil Flowers, but my ultimate book boyfriend is none other than Lucas Davenport.  He’s large and in charge with a side of nasty.  Rich, intelligent, good-looking; he is a cop that’s not afraid to get his hands dirty or scuff his Ferragamo shoes.  What’s not to love?

Amanda Quick, Emily Bronte, Johanna Lindsey, Emily Dickinson:

Mistress, Jane EyreLove Only Once, The Gorgeous Nothings – What girl or woman who reads romance classics and regency romances hasn’t imagined herself  in flowing gowns of ruffles and lace?  Sometimes I am embroiled in a tryst with a dark domineering hero, at other times my imagination runs along the lines of a more genteel setting of balls, tea rooms and quiet longing.

Robert Frost:

The Road Not Taken – Let’s face it, most of us have, at some point, considered the choice of the road not taken.

James Weldon Johnson:

God’s Trombones: Seven Negro Spirituals in Verse – When James Weldon Johnson is mentioned, one of his works that quickly comes to mind is Lift Every Voice (The Black National Anthem).  My favorite however is God’s Trombones.  I still get caught up in this beautiful portrayal of God in The Creation.  The poem also reminds me of Auguste Rodin’s sculpture The Thinker because of the line, “With his head in his hands, God thought and thought, til he though, ‘I think I’ll make a man’.”

The names and titles above barely scratch the surface.  I read more than four hundred books a year so you can only shudder at the thought of what stimulates my actions and thoughts.

Tell me what novels, short stories and poems move you to live, think and act certain ways.  I’d love to know.

The Monster – Audelia’s Story

My Sister's Soul, a novel by Dawn Gena
My Sister’s Soul, a novel by Dawn Gena

Audelia is young, talented with a ton of possibilities lined up for her future.  She just has one major problem.  The monster…

I hate her.  She is the bane of my existence.  I often prey for the ability to wish her away the way that child did in an episode of the Twilight Zone.  Her crystal blue eyes come to rest where I sit, half hidden in a corner of the room, and my thoughts desert me.  The corners of her mouth twist up in a parody of a smile and I visibly cringe.  Oh no.

“Audelia, dear, come here,” she beckons with dulce tones.   The royal court surrounding the Queen Bee watches with indulgent smiles as I cautiously make my way to her.  She offers me her hand as I draw near and I hesitantly take it.  Her long cold fingers, first caress, then curl around my hand.  The Queen Bee’s smile is as bright as the highly buffed chrome on my father’s old Cadillac.

The air is filled with sighs and ah’s as the nearby crowd witnesses what they think is a touching moment.  If they looked hard enough, they would see the talon-like nails digging into the flesh of my palm.  If they truly cared, they would notice the frostbitten eyes that sear into me.  But the Queen Bee has played this game for a very long time.  People see what she allows them to see.  They have never met the monster which lies beneath the beauty.  Never felt her all-consuming and constant wrath.

Whether awake or in slumber, I suffer mercilessly in this hell.  A hell where the monster reigns.  At times, I am more frightened of myself than of the monster.  Will I awaken one day and find myself to be the mirror image of her inside and out?  After all, she is my mother…

You can read the rest of Audelia’s ordeal in My Sister’s Soul which will be available at online booksellers the first week of December.

What We Want

Leaning_nude_woman_Makó
What We Want by Dawn Gena

We are tenacious, strong, intelligent and resourceful.  

We are the love of your life, the bane of your existence, the center of your world and catalyst of your downfall.

We bear your children and more often than not; raise them alone.  

We fight beside you in wars, on and off battlefields.  

We have overcome the heavy yolks thrown around our necks by society only to have new ones forged by the hands of the cold, calculating and desperate.

We wear numerous hats while living many roles.  

We are rich, poor and everything in between.

We are the colors of the rainbow and Mother Earth.

We are women.

No matter the country, the century, the day of the week…

We all want one thing.

Love.

To The One I Love, The Book Trailer

I think book trailers are a wonderful thing.  If you are familiar with Chronicle Keeperz, you know that there is or was a trailer for every book published.  I figured, why break from tradition.  So here it is the trailer for To The One I Love.

Hey!  Why not check out my website!    dawngena@com

 

A Big Kiss Thank You!

Thank you readers!

To The One I Love by Dawn Gena
To The One I Love by Dawn Gena

I want to thank everyone who has downloaded or purchased the romantic prose novella, To The One I Love.  Thanks to you all To The One I Love is #1 in the contemporary poetry category and #6 the love poetry category in Kindle Store at Amazon.com.

A big kiss to all my readers.  Without you this couldn’t have happened.

 

Dawn Gena, Writer

An icon from the Crystal Project icon theme.
Short video.  Visit dawngena.com

George Lucas or Martin Scorsese would more than likely laugh at my little video but what can I say?  A few authors, including yours truly,  were asked to create some form of media that expressed something about them.   Here is my effort.   Ha, ha, ha…

Visit me at dawngena.com to learn more of what’s going on in my world.

The Noose: A Mystery Novelette by Dawn Gena

A Woman’s Point Of View

The Noose: A Mystery Novelette by Dawn Gena
The Noose: A Mystery Novelette by Dawn Gena

Hmm, I don’t know, maybe readers would prefer a woman?  It doesn’t seem as if anyone had anything to say about Scott Coleman, a male, being the main character of  The Noose.  Let’s see if anyone wants to comment on the lead character being a woman.  Frankly I think a woman would be great.  After all, woman are resourceful, tenacious, intelligent and let’s not forget passionate.

The Noose by Dawn Gena
The Noose by Dawn Gena

An account of events as told by Loraine Barton:

I came to on the floor, wedged between the back seat and the front seat of what I thought to be a passenger van or SUV.    I was lying on my stomach with my right arm pinned under me.  My jaw was throbbing from the hit I had taken from that Neanderthal who had walked up to me outside of the airport terminal.  Though the windows seemed to have a dark tint, the sun’s rays were doing their best to fry my back.

 The vehicle wasn’t moving so I wasn’t sure whether we were still at the airport or if I had been driven some place else.  I was about to raise my head when the driver’s seat shook a little and the door opened causing the small chiming noise of the car door to sound off.  I closed my eyes and tried to slow my breathing as much as I could to make them think that I was still unconscious.

 “I’ll get us some food and water.”  A woman’s voice said from the driver’s seat.  Her voice reminded me of the woman who had approached me just before I had been punched.

 “You gas up and keep an eye on the package.  Notice I said eye.  Don’t you dare lay another hand on her.” The woman threatened.

 The package?  Were they referring to me?  The front passenger door opened and the vehicle bounced and swayed as if something heavy was being removed.  My guess, it was the massive monster who had slugged me.

 The smells of gasoline, grilled meat and heat rushed in through the door the monster had left open.  I could hear car doors opening and closing, children laughing and an occasional car horn honking.  We seemed to be at a gas station.  A very busy gas station.

 My head was at an awkward angle that had the bottom of my chin resting on the floor mat with my neck craned back.  I was about to move my head to a more comfortable position when everything went dark.  I no longer felt the sun’s heat on my back.  The overgrown troll must have been looking in the back window at me.  I held my breath and froze.  The last thing I wanted was for him to know I was conscious.  It seemed like forever before the sunlight returned.  The troll had moved away from the passenger right rear window.

 By then, my neck was screaming for relief.  I had to move my head.  I heard the door of the gas tank spring open and then the twist of the gas cap.  The troll was still on the right side toward the rear of the van or SUV.   I finally thought it safe enough to move my head.  As I did, pain shot from my neck, then my shoulders, ending at the back of my head.  I tasted blood from my lip as I bit down to stifle my groan.  Now, through my left eye, I could see more of my prison.  From the look of it, I was in an SUV.  The logo of the automaker was emblazoned in a small corner of the door between the window and the armrest.  I also had a limited view out the rear right side window.  I saw no sign of the troll.  I could, however, hear him fumbling with the gas pump nozzle in the tank every now and again.

 I had no idea where they were taking me or what they wanted.  What I did know was that I probably wouldn’t have a better chance, than at that moment, to try to escape.  I tuned my ears to listen for the slightest noise as I slowly slid my left arm up my side and past my head.  My knuckles grazed along the left door panel until they made contact with the door latch.   I stopped and listened to make sure the troll was still filling the gas tank.  As if on queue, the springs on the right rear of the SUV lowered as the Neanderthal leaned against it.

 I grasped the door latch and slowly pulled it toward me.  The door opened with a faint pop.  Sunlight blazed through the crack in the doorway blinding me.  I pushed the door wider and raised myself on my hands and knees as I began to crawl toward the open door.

 The SUV was higher off the ground than I had anticipated.  I moved so quickly through the opening I had no time to brace myself for the two-foot drop to the ground.  My hands came down hard on the oil stained cement.  My arms buckled and my head smacked the ground.  The rest of my body tumbled out with one of my feet still caught in the doorway.

 I heard a sharp gasp and looked up to find a woman quickly guiding her children around me as she stared at me in horror.

 “Call the police!”  I called after her retreating back.  The woman and her children disappeared around the front of the SUV without a backward glance.  Ignoring the shards of pain, I hurriedly untangled myself and was about to stand up when I heard a voice directly behind me.

 “Going somewhere?”  I turned around, knowing it was none other than the troll.  From where I crouched, my line of sight fell on his kneecaps.  I gathered my breath and opened my mouth to let out the loudest yell I could manage.  The cry locked in my throat as the troll stepped closer and placed the barrel of his big gun in the center of my chest.  My eyes climbed his large rumpled frame until they came to his mouth.  What I saw there did not encourage me to venture any further.  The troll’s wide mouth was twisted into a cruel grin that bared a lot of big white teeth.  Too stupid to halt there, my eyes met his.  His green eyes were vacant yet somehow managed to convey the layer upon layer of maliciousness that vibrated through his being.

 “Sneaky bitch,” he sneered.  For someone so large, he could move quickly.  Before I could register what was happening, he drew the gun back and clubbed me on the side of my head.  Damn, that was going to leave another bruise.  Miranda was not going to be pleased…

 Note to self:  Did I mention I was going to kill the bastard?

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