Tag Archives: Jillian Chantal

Sorry and Questions about Book Series

Jillian here-  Sorry I’ve been AWOL but I am back now. I had my surgery (finally!) at the end of April and I was surprised to find that even though I felt much better after about a week, I continued to be really tired and had no energy. I also had no desire to write or do much of anything. I did go back to work part time after three weeks, but took care to leave early as I didn’t want to overdo it.

I finally started a new story last week and was very relieved that my creativity was back. Not being compelled to write was an odd feeling for me.

I read a lot while I was unmotivated to work on my own stuff and read a series called The Shades of Magic  by V. E. Schwab. The first one was very good and I inhaled it. The second one was all right, but not as great as the first. The thing ended on a cliffhanger (pet peeve for me) but I already had the third one (I got these for Mother’s Day). The third one went on way too long and pretty much could’ve been merged into book two very easily- they were each over 400 pages, but two and three could’ve been merged into one at around 550 and been a better story, I think. But perhaps the author had a three-book deal. 🙂

So, my questions are, “Do you think some series are too long? Do you think there is a tendency to pad the word count to get to three books? Do they usually get better or worse as the books go on? How do you feel about cliffhangers where the book stops in the middle of the action- not an overarching plot for the series but when the book just ends abruptly? I feel manipulated when that happens.  I like a beginning, middle and end.

Share your thoughts on book series! Happy July!

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My Feline Life

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At our office, we have a number of stray cats who come to hang out with us. We feed them and have fun petting them for stress relief. When it’s cold out, we let them stay inside. They all also … Continue reading

Psychic Medium Funny Story

Jillian here. Happy February.

There’s a psychic medium here in my hometown who has actually helped our police and sheriff’s departments solve murder cases, so she seems pretty legit. Once a month or so, she holds open readings and one of my friends talked me into going. It was a  pretty neat experience.

One of the things I learned was that my belief that when cardinals fly into my yard or past my car window, that it’s truly what my family has always believed: deceased loved ones sending messages that we are still loved by them. It was weird as the psychic said, “Your grandmother says she’s the one sending the birds.”  I was shocked as I didn’t say a word about birds but I do see them  a lot- especially when I’m stressed.

She also indicted my grandmother was with the child I lost. It was when we first started the reading. She made a move like holding a baby and swaying with it and whispered almost to herself, “Are you her baby or is she your baby?” Gave me chills as I always wondered about the child I miscarried and if that little soul was in heaven. (In the past, I’ve had my palm read a few times and, every time, the person always says I was meant to be the mother of three- and I’ve never mentioned my miscarriage- seems spooky, almost, doesn’t it?).

Now comes the funny part. This medium-lady is African-American and she spent a bit of time talking about a person who she said was in the room. It sounded as if she was describing my maternal grandfather who died when I was eight but who I remember very well. She mentioned he was watching over my sister as well as me.

The psychic kept asking me if my sister was darker than me. I kept shaking my head and saying, “No, she has blonde hair.” The women kept persisting and saying my sister was darker than me. It was so funny because I was completely lost and was insistent that she was totally not darker.

The psychic finally said, “You don’t look biracial but is your sister? Is she dark-skinned like me?”

Then it dawned on me and I cracked up. I said, “When my sister was married, her last name was Black.”

Everyone in the room burst out laughing. The psychic shook her head and said, “Lord, girl. I’ve never had that happen but when I see someone of my race in my head, I have to ask if that’s who is being referred to. I saw her as black in skin but you led me on a merry chase to get to the truth.”

It was insane but it was creepy too as she was so right about that and that my long-deceased grandfather would’ve seen my sister when she was married to Mr. Black.

How about you? Any psychic experiences you’ve had?  Do you even believe some people have such a gift?

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Of Books, Birthdays, New Year, and Football

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Jillian here. Happy New Year! Since last we visited, I had a book release (the weekend of Christmas which was not my choice of dates), a birthday, the passing of the old year and lots of ball games were played. … Continue reading

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December Tradition

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Jillian here. Sorry I’m late posting. I was in Atlanta, Georgia and didn’t arrive home until late last night. It actually snowed when I was driving up there and snowed on us while we were there. It was cool but … Continue reading

A Silly Little Story

Jillian here. Welcome to November. I have been reading about everyone’s travels and wishing I’d been winging away to somewhere fun. Alas, I am working, working, working. I actually have to have another surgery (appreciate some prayers on the 14th) and so I’m trying to work hard to clear my decks before being out for a bit. I am also doing NaNoWriMo- yes, I am crazy.  Just lock me up!

Since it’s been dullsville here in the Florida panhandle, I thought I’d share a silly little piece of flash fiction I did about a year ago. The writing prompt was a picture of breakfast so I wrote this little ditty called Bacon and Eggs:

Bacon and eggs

The bell over the door of the diner tinkled announcing a customer. Tom, the short-order cook, didn’t look up. He was tired of glancing at the door and being disappointed. If only she’d come. Desperate to see her again, he forced himself to focus on the pancakes on the griddle and the sausages in the pan. Keeping everything going at the same time was a challenge when he first came to work at the hole in the wall joint. It wasn’t what he was used to but it was honest work.

“Tom?”

He couldn’t believe it. It must be his imagination. Was it really her voice? One word—his name—and he recognized it?

Afraid to turn around and have his hopes dashed, he ignored the sound and kept his attention on the food orders.

“Tom?”

There it was again. His broken heart must be working overtime to taunt him. He could swear it was her but she was gone. She’d left him long ago. He’d even moved and gotten a job in a place she’d never think to search for him. It wouldn’t be her if he looked. He was sure of it.

“Tom. Please.”

Inhaling deeply, he turned to face the person who relentlessly spoke his name.

Stunned to see the woman he loved and lost, he couldn’t find words. He stared in amazement.

“I’ve found you at last.” She smiled and held her hand out. “Won’t you come home?”

“But you said you couldn’t love me.”

“I was wrong. I see that now.” She stared at the griddle. “What you’ve done is beautiful.”

“I have learned not to burn the bacon and scald the eggs.”

“Please come home. I never meant you to leave. I only wanted you to learn to cook.”

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Happy October? Summer in Fall?

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Jillian here. Sorry I missed my post last month. I had what was supposed to be a minor surgery that turned a bit more complex and I wasn’t able to focus for more than 10 minutes at a time even … Continue reading