The novel has taken a very interesting turn for the better, I believe. While I don't want to get into the juicy details, I have had a brainstorm of epic proportions in relation to how the story will progress. Thanks to a brilliant suggestion by my good friend, C.M. Wright.  (Yes, I mentioned you in my blog, girlfiend! ;) )Love You tons! I am re-planning  the order of events, where I plan to begin the novel, and which character will lead off.  




With this character, I will go into the back   story, allowing the audience to see  how it all began, and then progress from there.

My hopes and goals? To make it into a trilogy or a full blown series, not sure, depending on where my characters lead me! All-in-all it is becoming quite an adventure, and to top it off, I have found an awesome editor to help me shape the story into the success I know it is capable of!

Thanks to all my supporters! Once I get more written I will share teasers, and will blog more for the series. For now, this concludes the blog series for A Son for Ibiza!

A Believer and Skeptic in One

The paranormal realm has always interested me, even as a child. I am both believer and skeptic, if there even is such a thing. I do believe and know that their is a spiritual dimension that we can't see, but exists. However, I do not count every little bump and noise as being paranormal. I look for a more logical, scientific reason for something happening before I claim it as supernatural. I have had my share of experiences throughout my life, and I am sure I will continue to have more as time goes on. I don't know if I could call myself sensitive, because it is not like spirits are drawn to me and I can see them every day.  However, sometimes my dreams are extremely vivid and I can remember them per every detail as they happened, even years later. I have also experienced strange hiccups in time. We call this deja vu, usually. Where you know you have experienced something before, but you can't quite understand when, how, or why? I have slight precognitive abilities where I can predict things before they happen. The strange thing about it is, it's usually all mental. For example, I'll dream something, or a thought or event will come to mind, but hasn't happened yet, and sometimes seconds, inutes, hours, or even days later, it will happen,  Sometimes,I don't really realize it, but others, it feels like a deja vu moment. I have even picked up the phone to call a certain person and they'd actually be on the other end. The phone never rang, so I would never have known until that moment. That sometimes freaks me out, but it's kind of neat.

Vivid Dreams

Going back to dreams for a moment, I have had several very vivid and strange dreams; sometimes even frightening where I wake up crying! I have had a repetitive dream about a certain house. I haven't had that dream in years, but I am sure it will rear it's ugly head again sometime in the future. I can't pinpoint what exactly makes me have that dream, but I have had it at least three times in my life.It's quite terrifying. The house has a white exterior, and is very charming, almost like a quaint little victorian cottage...sort of... anyways, going in, it's very small and claustrophobic....and dark. There are points of light within, but there are strange shadows along the walls. One in particular seems to chase me. it's very large and intimidating. As I try to run to escape it, the house appears to shrink, like a funhouse affect. I feel myself getting short of breath, feeling panic...I try to reach the door and just as I go to open it, I wake up. That's exactly how it ends every time!  Other dreams I have had involved my daughter when she was a baby. I think those were just stemmed from apparent seperation anxiety on my behalf. I was attending school at the time to get  my Asosciates Degree in Architectural Design, and I guess felt guilty for leaving her. My dreams were always about abandonment and me not knowing where she was, or knowing where she was but had been taken and something horrible happening to her. I woke up, countless times in tears and sweat freaking out! I always ran into her room to check on her and she would be peacefully sleeping. Afterwords, I would go back to sleep and be ok.

Another very vivid dream I had a few years ago, and I even remember the date of the dream. February 10, 2003... A few days short of Valentines day, but right before the night of our Valentines Dinner at church. Anyways, I am sitting atop of this cloud, kind of floating, the air is thick and the skies are dark and crimson,  and there are three crosses on a hill. I am at the head of the center cross, wiping the brow of  Christ...Yes, Jesus... I can hear and see the commotion below.I can see the other two men on the crosses. I can see the Roman soldiers standing guard. I hear Jesus say his seven final words and I realize I am at his crucifixion. *Side note: at the time of this dream, I had been certified as a Doula/labor assistant and during labor I would help the mother feel relaxed and wipe the sweat off her brow* I continue to dab the cloth on his brow, wiping away blood and sweat. He then turns to me, looks me straight in the eyes, with a bright smile on his face. The light around him glows brighter, and I could see no pain...nothing but love...He says to me, "Brandy, I love you, You are MINE!" I remember embracing him tight after that, and I feel the blood from his side dripping onto my hand. It felt so real! I woke up in tears, but it was such a mixed emotion, I could not even tell my then husband what I had just experienced until hours later. I also remember when I woke up, I could still feel him, his presence was there and I felt the embrace. I also felt something wet on my right hand, and when I looked, in between my thumb and forefinger, there were three little dark red droplet stains on my hand! This unfathomable peace came over me. I still get emotional even typing those words, because I knew at that moment, no matter what I had done in my life, I was not perfect, but he loved me and he claimed me as his own! Those three blood stains remained on my hand for three days, despite washing them, they did not go away til the third day! Now mind you, this was also Lent season, so it had a very particular meaning for me as a woman of faith. I will never forget that dream, and I don't think I am ever supposed to and that's quite alright with me!!!

Believe it... or Not!

I have not told too many people about that dream. Most, especially non-believers, would not get it, and others, well they may not believe me, despite the vivid detail and recount! Something just felt right about telling it here. That way, if you read it, you can either believe, or not... or come to your own conclusions. I just know that those who share my faith felt very blessed and touched when I told them, it was like a reaffirmation for me, and sometimes even for them. it was my Valentine's gift from God that year and I'll forever cherish it!! Does this make me psychic or sensitive, I don't really know. I just know that it was as real to me as someone reaching out and caressing my arm or face. I felt it! Was it paranormal? In a way, yes, because it was not of this world, and in the dream, I was not in this physical plane. My soul and psyche had transcended into a realm that is undefined by even science. How could it have been so real?Maybe because God's love transcends time and space, and that is how I was able to feel and sense everything from the dream even after waking. it is a unique and wonderful mystery, one of which not many get to experience and I am very fortunate and grateful to have been gifted with that!

Pinterest seems an unlikely resource for writers. Consequently, it is actually a hot bed for inspiration.  Writers and authors of all genres can find something to give their story, article, poem, or script, an edge. Creating story boards with pins of inspiration for your writing projects can be a powerful resource and help with writer's block.  Writers can find photos, quotes, art, period clothing, vintage items...just about anything you can think of to start the writing process. I came across this resource, myself, on one of my writing network sites. Not sure if it was Freelance Writing Jobs, Scripted, or Skywords. I know it was one of them who had posted a great article from a writer about using Pinterest for writing. It's a brilliant idea, and one I am taking advantage of!  Who woulda thought?

If you are on pinterest, you can follow my Write Diva's Writing Inspiration Board. Now, I am not going to create entire storylines. Whatever I use is just for inspiration to help me brainstorm. 

If you see something on pinterest that you feel may be of use to me, and I haven't come across it yet, please feel free to share it! I appreciate all input!

When deciding upon my characters for the story, I had to maintain the historical attributes, as well as the Arabic culture, for my main characters. I wanted my characters names to have a meaning to them. To me, this was crucial to their development of their story.  I searched for Arabic baby names that symbolized who they were, and sometimes provided an ironic dynamic to them.  For the Sheik, I wanted his name to be literal.  Mutazz means noble, superior. My harem mistress, Azizah, means Beloved one- Which she is... or was until her exile. Muhibb, the Sheik's brother, means loyal--the irony? well, He has an affair with Mutazz's favored harem mistress, Azizah... how loyal is he, now? ;)  I added Khalilah, a minor supporting character for Azizah's maidservant. Her name describes exactly who she is to Azizah...bosom friend, confidante. Azizah trusts her implicitly and can tell her anything, including the trist she has with Muhibb!  Khalilah being so loyal to Azizah, does not give her away to Mutazz, even when he insists. 

While in exile, Azizah discovers she is pregnant, and since this child is possibly the lost heir of Ibiza, his name, Khalaf, means successor or heir!
Now, even though he is not a major character, and not Arabic, but Greek. Captain Aeneas becomes a brief love interest for Azizah.  I came up with the  name, Aeneas, because it is a strong, Grecian name, an epitome of strength and ruggedness. He is a bit of a tragic character himself, but you'll have to read the book to find out what I mean. ;)

Once I had the names, I googled artwork of arabic men and women during the renaissance period, which was close to the time period of my novel. I knew what I was looking for, but did not want to give too much away, so I have a "muse" painting for Azizah, and a suggestive one for Her and Muhibb together, which you see here. They fit with the romance and poetry of the  story, they tell a story themselves, which I loved. The only one I had trouble finding was a Mother/child portrait that resembles Azizah and Khalaf, but that's ok. Having these bring my characters more to life, and makes you want to know more about them....or at least that's my goal!

Stay tuned for next week....The Progression , hopes, and goals for the Novel!

The setting: Ibiza, August 8, 1235 A.D.-The Arabs have ruled for 500 years when the Catalans invade. The Catalans, being from mainland Spain want to also claim Ibiza as their own. This makes sense, as the Island is just off the coast of  Spain, with the Balearic Sea flowing through them; making Ibiza, Frontemera, Cabrera, Mallorca, and Minorco, the Balearic Islands. 

As the Catalans are prepared to invade, the ruling Sheik and his brother are quarrelled over a mistress of the harem.  The brother gets back at the  Sheik and shows the Catalans the secret passage under the Dalta Villa, called Calle de san Ciriaco. This passage allows the Catalans to enter the city and take over.  (So much for the fortified Citadel!)  While the historical facts do not reveal the fate of the Sheik, the brother, or the mistress, that is where my story takes off and gives it life. 

Before the Catalans or the Arabs, the Romans, Phoenicians, Carthaginians,  Byzantines, and the Moors all ruled over Ibiza.   Not at the same time, mind you, but they each had their turn immersing their beliefs, culture, food,art,  and traditions into the fiber of Ibiza. There are even ancient Carthaginian burial grounds that still exist today. 


Having researched the native food, vegetation, industry, and atmosphere of Ibiza and Es Vedra, I wanted to keep that authentic and maintain historical accuracy of the time. I also researched the Arabic clothing, and am still researching clothing, artillery, and other implements used during the 9th Century.  Weaving these aspects of history into fiction allows readers to want to put themselves into the story; see ancient Ibiza through the characters' eyes. This breathes life into the story and the characters.


The mysterious island of Es Vedra is my chosen exile Island for my mistress character, Azizah.  Many strange occurrences have been reported on this island which is the reason why I have added a special element to the story. You will know it when you read it! ;) Legend has it,  Es Vedra is the upturned sunken lost city of Atlantis.   

I am looking forward to learning more about the culture of Ibiza as I continue to write and develop my characters around the history of the Island. it is an amazing experience so far, and hopefully I can travel to Ibiza one day and see it in all it's ancient, majestic, exotic beauty that my characters saw 900 hundred years ago!


Stay tuned for next week's installment- Breathing Life Into My Characters!


Historical references: http://www.ibizaspotlight.com/ibizamagic/history_i.htm

The distant sound of machine guns and mortars crackle violently...echoing through the valley-reverberating off the corrugated tin roofs of makeshift barracks...Barracks? Where am I? The stench of sweat and blood burns my nostrils...My body writhes furiously in what I assume is a terrible nightmare. Eyes locked shut...unable to open them...I feel somewhat paralyzed as I feel something...no... someone staring down at me as I dream...tossing and turning...the anxiety and fear building inside...face feeling flushed as I feel the form staring down at me come closer...the weight and warmth enveloping me...my eyes snap open and as I catch a quick glimpse...I let out a scream...and then I gasp....my eyes come into focus on a young man...handsome...familiar...

Where have I seen that face before? I study him thoroughly...bewildered...I can't seem to place him...

His smooth, youthful face breaks into a wide smile as he asks me "Hello, beautiful! Where in God's name did you come from?"

"What do you mean? You are in my room!"

"No, honey, I’m afraid not!” You are on my pallet! How did you get here?

Suddenly, I become aware that he is right-I am no longer in the comfort of my own bed, but on this hard, uncomfortable, cot, with heavy, scratchy, green-camouflaged bedding. I sit up quickly...panicked. He places a gentle hand on my shoulder, still smiling. I look down and realize I am still in my pajamas...an intimate, off-white, filmy gown. I pull the covers up to my chin to regain my privacy. Shaking and near tears, I gaze blankly at him; not knowing what to make of it all.

He begins to question me in a strong, buttery, northern accent. "So, what brings you to Vietnam?"

"Vietnam?!?!” I nearly shout at him. Covering my mouth apologetically, I feel my face flush again.

"Yep, Nam, baby! We're in the middle of the Vietnam war! The year 1967!!!" He spreads his arms out, exclaiming exuberantly.

"OMG! 1967?! What the hell? How did I get here?"

"O...M..G?" He looks at me, puzzled.

"Yeah, it means, Oh My God! Everyone says it!"

He laughs, raising his eyebrows, and retorts,"You're not from around here, are ya?"

"Well, DUH! Ya think?" I reply smartly.

He shakes his head in disbelief. "No one talks like that here, so where are you really from?"

"I live in Texas, and it's the year 2013!"

"Texas? 2013? I would have thought you would look much different...like half alien, half cowgirl."

"Gee, Thanks!" I reply, rolling my eyes, slightly giggling at such a stereotypical assumption.

His hand rests on my shoulder again, lightly caressing it. He begins to play with the ruffled strap of my nightgown. I look over to my shoulder, enjoying his touch. Trying not to give myself away, I close my eyes slightly. I quickly look up again to find him staring forlornly at me. I am sure it has been a while since he has seen or even touched a woman. A welcome sight I must be! Our eyes meet, piercing each other's soul with a penetrating gaze that cuts through the time and space between us. His eyes become misty and he blinks several times before turning away. I reach out and I touch the side of his face. Running my hands through his dark, slicked-back hair which waves in the back and on top. He is real! How can this be a dream? He turns to face me again, with the same look. Our hands touch, he begins to trace the back of my hand with his finger. My other hand rests on his, and he takes both of my hands up to his lips and kisses each one. I blush profusely, quickly pulling away. He lunges forward, catching me off guard, and kisses me. I fall back, he catches me in his arms, and pulls me to him. My breathing quickens...chest begins to rise and fall rapidly. I try to push him away.

"I can't --this is not right...I can't!" I push him off.

"You're married, aren't you?" He asks, disappointed.

"Yes...as a matter of fact, I am. I'm sorry, but It's not right! I love my husband!"

"Lucky man -- Your husband! I can only hope to find someone like you, someday!" He exclaims, straightening up his jumpsuit.

I just happen to notice he's wearing a jumpsuit that looks vaguely familiar to one I saw Eric wearing in a picture from when he was in Vietnam! The young man sits back down on the cot next to me. I begin touching the patches and stripes on his jumpsuit, noticing it says "U.S. Air Force" on the left side above his heart, and on the right, a faded name I.D. patch. I can barely make out, what I believe to say, Cugino! No...this can't be! This can’t be him! My face drains of all color...shock overwhelms me as my eyes glaze over, dumbfounded at my discovery.

"What's wrong, darlin' ? You look as if you've seen a ghost!" Appearing concerned, he clasps my hands tightly, caressing my cheek.

"That's not even the word for it!" I exclaim.

What is going on here? Confused and afraid that I may be trapped in this dream-state, I begin to cry. He gently leans in toward me, kissing my forehead. He begins to whisper to me..."Rest now...just rest...I'm here...I'm here..." My eyes flutter before closing to enter into another fitful sleep. His face begins to blur before me, yet I still feel the back of his hand caressing my cheek, his hand still holding tightly onto mine.




*****

My head thrashes side to side, tears pouring down my face, I feel strong arms holding onto mine as I reach for an invisible form, begging for it not to abandon me. Trying to force my eyes open to see who's holding me; my vision, blurry at first, begins to focus in on the familiar face of my husband. Very much relieved, I embrace him. My breathing begins to slow, and I regain my sense of reality. He encourages me to share with him the dream I just experienced. Expelling every detail, he is astounded at how accurate it all seems. Right down to the year he was there!

"That's quite a dream, sweet darlin'!"

"Yeah, it seemed so real! He seemed so real! He had your mannerisms and everything!"

"What if it was me?" He questions, in half disbelief.

"I guess it's possible! Right?"

He shrugs his shoulders, kisses me on the forehead, and walks out to the kitchen to make coffee. Leaving me with my thoughts and questions of what had just occurred within the realm of sleep. Wondering, if I closed my eyes... would I return to that moment?

To be continued...

So I seem to have shut myself in these two days off for the pure love of writing without distraction. Granted, I did not get a whole lot accomplished yesterday due to some female issues, today I have applied to a couple of new opportunities, and am writing this blog post!! Also hoping to get my daily short story written,which I am finding is not as easy as it usually is. Mainly because I need some inspiration, ya think?

Reading through some of the books I bought, skimming a few pages of each to keep the motivation and desire going. Which that doesn't take much because, writing has become a drug for me...I have to have a fix every day! This is a good thing, i presume! Especially if I plan to do this full-time, eventually! I know I can do this and will be successful, i feel it in every fiber of my body!! It's in the core of me now, deeply embedded!

I am so blessed at being given this innate ability to arrange words in a way to speak to the hearts and minds of others, to reach those that know not what to say or how to say it. I am astounded at the words I put to paper...it is like an outer body experience...feeling as if it wasn't me, but someone else writing the words...but I know it is me, because they come from my mind, heart, and soul!

So, am I becoming reclusive? I dare say not because I know there is life to be lived outdoors... for that is where inspiration comes from...I can't afford to be a shut-in because I have a daughter who loves the park, and I love the fresh air, sunshine, and cool breeze when the weather is right... Even though some of the best writers and authors have become very eccentric reclusives, that lifestyle is not for me. Besides there is only so much you can write about within four walls. Mother nature can be such an inspiring muse, along with different sights, smells, and tastes of the world! Let us not forget what our ears hear... that too can be inspiration. As a musician, certain sounds can prove to be poetic and inspiring.

Not to dis Miss Emily Dickenson and her fine poetry...she is one of my favorites, but she had to have had a very keen sixth sense of a writer to see more than the boundaries of the four walls she enclosed herself in! I am sure as writers we all learn to harness that and use our sixth creative sense to our greatest advantage! 

The title for this book isn't something that I would have conceived on my own. I truly believe it was Divine Intervention. I woke up in the middle of the night with this "phrase" running through my head..."A Son for Ibiza"..."A Son for Ibiza"...it almost kept repeating in my head until I wrote it down. It wouldn't let me rest until I did. So, I sat up, picked up my writing journal and jotted it down, having no idea what would become of it. It kept nudging me for the next couple of days. More like a quiet whisper just reminding me not to forget about it. I had no idea what I was going to do with this title., but I found myself looking up the name, Ibiza. I mean, I had never heard of it before, and I seriously thought I was going to write about a girl named Ibiza. However, then it was "whispered" into my ear again that it was about a city. I began researching Ibiza, and was pleasantly surprised with the amazing history of this Spanish Mediterranean Island. I honestly had no idea that it existed. I know, it sounds like I've been hiding under a rock, right? 

During my research, I discovered an intriguing love triangle involving the ruling Sheik, his favored mistress, and his brother. That's when I knew I had to run with that. I knew it was really meant for me to write this story, and I now had an angle and a direction in which to go with the story I was already planning in my head. 
Before, I discovered that juicy piece of history, I was tossing the "lost heir" idea around, but wasn't really sure how I was going to introduce it. When I found my little gem, it was a Eureka moment! I couldn't believe my fortune,

Anyways, it has now evolved into a full-fledged historical fiction about a lost heir, Khalaf, that comes back to Ibiza to claim the throne after being exiled with his mother, Azizah. It has truly been an adventure writing this novel, getting to know my characters as they develop, and especially learning the history and mysterious legends that surround the island, and those that surround Ibiza. It may be a series, if successful, but we shall see. 

Keep following for more installments of the series.  A new one each week!

Stay tuned for next week's...Vol. 2- The History Behind the Fiction

Stepping outside to check on my 10-year-old daughter and her best friend at play, I over-hear their dialogue:

  "No...here... you take the map!"
 
   "No... You take it, and don't let it fall into the ocean!"

They seem to be passing a notebook with a map on it to each other, back-and-forth.  They're on a dry grassy knoll in front of our apartment building, with two Disney princess tents, a small pink one and a larger purple one, set up for them to cross between. They obviously seem to be on a wild voyage to a new world, playfully arguing over who's navigating the trip. I smile to myself as I walk back inside, feeling as if I've done something right in my parenting skills. Knowing my daughter has an imagination and still utilizes it at 10 years old, fills me with pride. As a writer, singer, and all around creative person, I have always had to use my imagination. My love for books and reading always enthralled me because it alowed me to visit new lands, meet new people, and experience things I would not otherwise experience in reality; not to mention that I could even time travel!!! When a child uses their imagination, the possibilities are endless!

Every child is instilled with an imagination; whether it is nurtured positively and creatively, is something else. Sometimes, it is not nurtured at all, or even stifled; neither of which is developmentally productive for a child.  It is a huge detriment to a child who is not encouraged to "think outside the box,"so-to-speak. Parents who do not foster creativity or imagination in their children will never reap the end rewards. Imagination is crucial to creativity and growth.  Unfortunately, many children in this day in age do not know how to use the imagination God gave them, due to the fact they are constantly distracted with video games, the computer, phones, etc. While video games can encourage creative play, it also depend on the video game parents allow their children to play. The violent and graphic content of today's games are in no way a positive reinforcer of imagination. Children and even teens, who should know better, lose grips with reality when playing these games, and as we see time-and-time againin the news, end up taking the game into a real-life setting where people are mortally wounded. Who can we really hold accounbtable for this? The parents? The children? The game designers? The retailers? WHO??

As parents, we need to take responsibility for our child(ren)'s well-being!  Allowing their creativity and imaginations to be used productively and positively; to make a difference in the world, is what we want for them!!  We will all be better off!  They need to break off from technology every once in a while and get lost in a book, write in a journal, draw, color, sing, dance, or even just playing with a friend. Two minds are better than one, three or more is even better. Creativity can be sparked and is contagious!  Do not be afraid to listen in or ask to see what they write or draw. Give them postive, but honest critique. Do not berate them or put them down for doing something different than the norm. So what if their sky is pink, and not blue? Who's to say that's not their vision of a sunrise or sunset! Let them be who they are, respect them for their natural talents and abilities, and hone in on what their passions are! That is what will lead them to THEIR success!!