About sherryrossman

I'm a tea-loving momma who loves to write. And when I say write, I mean exploring the things of life we get tastes of in dreams, in the things that go bump in the night, and those that hover at the corners of our eyes. No matter what they are or aren't I believe God holds all these things in His hands.

The Summer Files: Day 12

Posted on May 30, 2016 by sherryrossman

My ears have been ringing for 12 straight days. At first, I though it was sugar-induced pandemonium that caused The Children to jack the noise level up to Rock Concert. Then I thought maybe, just maybe, the sweet release of homework into the void of bye-bye-for-now caused this uncontained clamor.

The noise level has been so high that the sound waves knocked birds from the sky. Wings. Feathers. Squawking. I also suspect The Canine.

I got so tired of using the word noise when people asked what my kids summer plans included that I consulted my thesaurus for more interesting options.
Clamor, din, babel.

Hullabaloo.

But when Memorial Day arrived, I realized the noise (although unhealthy for ear drums and sane minds) was distracting me from the root of it all. Really, the noise erupting from my children is not so much commotion, racket, or an uproar, but an expression of freedom.

Freedom to play, freedom to laugh at funny faces, cats, and words that rhyme with poop. Freedom to express opinions, LOUDLY, and to not recite times tables for the whole summer. Freedom to say God’s name and to be able to step outside in relative safety.

So I’m okay with that. (Except the sibling fights, that’s just pure foofaraw).

I may make a little noise myself today.

Many thanks to our veterans who paved the way for joyful noises.

The Summer Files: Day 5

Posted on May 23, 2016 by sherryrossman

It hasn’t yet been a week and The Son has discovered that sweat makes a good hair gel. Blond hair on end, unyielding energy pumping through his body, he goes, and goes, and goes, despite the powerful Az sun.
He’s managed to climb the entire height of the stucco column on the patio. I’m not sure if it’s the steroids he’s on for an irritable bowel, or if it’s the elation of summer freedom. I may never know.

The daughter approaches her vacation with a more subtle approach. At 7:30am, I rise late due to my nighttime Away job, and find the eight-year-old preparing a pot

The Polar Express, Az. style

of oatmeal for me. She knows I like it with honey, and dutifully scrapes the sugared stuff from the jug and heats it up so it pours smoothly into my bowl. Later on, she unearths my pointe shoes and wears them around the house like princess slippers.

After walking The Canine, I take them to the park where they bike circles around me. Hmm. Shortly after, I sit them down in front of the Goosebumps movie, starring Jack Back. Concerned at first that it might scare them despite the PG rating, I’m pleasantly surprised when they laugh through most of the film. Who knew evil garden gnomes weren’t scary?

While tending to my At-Home job—writing my newest book in The City of Light series–I decide it’s time for The Children to make their own City of Light.
We cut. We trim and paste. It’s still in progress, but I think this will be end up being a project to remember.

So far, I find myself ~~tolerating~~ enjoying Summer. Until next week.

A Single Beautiful Thing

Posted on May 16, 2016 by sherryrossman

There was a man in my college photography class who taught us how to capture a beautiful shot from anywhere. “Zoom in,” he said, “It’s about focus.” When he propped his photo up on our critique board, I saw a shadowed arch, eye-catching in its imperfection flowing through a gray sea. I didn’t think crack in a sidewalk until he told us that’s what it was.

I’m not sure what got me thinking about this seventeen-year-old memory; maybe some of you can relate, but when you become a parent, focusing on any single thing becomes folklore. A crack in the sidewalk becomes a collection point for Cheerios overflowing beyond the crevice— milk and all— onto my freshly mopped floor.

Maybe it’s my son with the indeterminate illness, and my friend with the cancer diagnosis. The hard things like to come at once, so how do we manage to focus on a single beautiful thing amidst cold, hard reality?

If Peter had kept his eyes on Jesus, his feet would not have slipped through the water. He saw the storm, the waves–he even suspected Jesus was a ghost. But the few moments he focused on the Lord, he got his miracle—one that’s been documented to help us through every one of our hard seasons. An old reminder of what could be.

Jesus traveled with a team—I’m thinking of all of you right now. Let’s climb inside this boat together and fix our eyes on our King.

A Bird Song

Posted on May 9, 2016 by sherryrossman

Grandma Bird was never without a pocket full of Kleenex. Often when I sneeze, or feel full to the brim with allergens, I pull my own Kleenex from my pocket and think of her. Glasses hanging around her neck like a fine piece of jewelry, fingers and ears bare of adornment, Grandma knew that life wasn’t about impressing others.

How could she? She survived the Great Depression and never forgot it. Not that she was all business either—in eighth grade, when I had FINALLY achieved honor roll status, the certificate of my feat floated around our kitchen for a few weeks. My parents were proud, I was shocked, but my Grandma? Nope. She picked up my honor roll certificate without a glance and moved it out of the way of one of my drawings underneath. That was where my heart was and Grandma knew it.

Just be you.

I didn’t need to impress her by struggling through classes, which, to tell you the truth, I mostly hated (Except English—how I love you, English). I worked harder that year so I could stay in music class, not to achieve honor roll. I just needed to reach the arts that most schools make so hard to find. Even if artists starve and get called all sorts of names like moody, poor, dreamers, without sensible ambition—those are stereotypes invented by people who worshiped scholastic hierarchy. Nothing but the stuff on paper or Kleenex you wad up a throw away.
But my heart on the right kind of paper? That’s me.

I’m eternally grateful that my kids attend a fine/performing arts school. It’s not an uppity right-side-of-the-tracks school by any means. It’s not a private school. It’s a school owned by a couple who knows that artistic kids need to be nourished just as much as the scholarly types.

Where is your heart? I hope you have a Grandma Bird to appreciate the real you.

Chatting with Annie

Posted on May 2, 2016 by sherryrossman

What better way to finish a good book than having the opportunity to interview the author? I’m talking to YA Author, Annie Douglass Lima today. Check out the end of this interview for a chance to win a gift card or digital copy of The Collar and the Cavvarach. It’s a hard book to put down!

S: Give us a brief description of The Gladiator and the Guard.

The Gladiator and the Guard is Book 2 in the Krillonian Chronicles series. I’d like to first give you the back-cover blurb for Book 1, The Collar and the Cavvarach, if I may:

Bensin, a teenage slave and martial artist, is desperate to see his little sister freed. But only victory in the Krillonian Empire’s most prestigious tournament will allow him to secretly arrange for Ellie’s escape. Dangerous people are closing in on her, however, and Bensin is running out of time. With his one hope fading quickly away, how can Bensin save Ellie from a life of slavery and abuse?

And now for The Gladiator and the Guard:

Bensin, a teenage slave and martial artist, is just one victory away from freedom. But after he is accused of a crime he didn’t commit, he is condemned to the violent life and early death of a gladiator. While his loved ones seek desperately for a way to rescue him, Bensin struggles to stay alive and forge an identity in an environment designed to strip it from him. When he infuriates the authorities with his choices, he knows he is running out of time. Can he stand against the cruelty of the arena system and seize his freedom before that system crushes him?

S: Take us into the world of your book. What goes on here that we should know about?

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A: The stories take place in a world almost exactly like our own. Although most aspects of the culture are just about what they are currently on Earth, a few sports are different, such as the martial art known as cavvara shil. The main difference, however, is that slavery is legal there.

The Krillonian Empire rules much of the world. An emperor, who is never named, governs from the capital city, Krillonia, on the continent known as Imperia. Eight separate provinces (independent nations before they were conquered) can be found on nearby continents. Each province, plus Imperia, is allowed to elect its own legislature and decide on many of its own laws, but the emperor reserves the right to veto any of them and make changes as he sees fit. This seldom happens, however, and to most people the emperor is merely a vague and distant ceremonial figure.

The prevalence of slavery is probably what would stand out the most to visitors from Earth. There are nearly as many slaves in the city of Jarreon, where both books take place, as free people, and they are easily identified by the steel collars they are required to wear locked around their necks. From each collar hangs a tag inscribed with the slave’s name, their owner’s name, and a copy of their owner’s signature. On the back of the tag is their owner’s phone number and a bar code that can be scanned to access additional information.

Many families own one or more slaves who do their housework and yardwork. Businesses often own a large number of slaves, usually for manual labor, though some are trained for more complex tasks. Those who don’t own their own slaves may “hire in” one belonging to someone else. The accepted rate for an hourly wage is two-thirds the amount that a free person would earn for equivalent labor (the money goes to the slave’s owner, of course).

To read more about the culture of the Krillonian Empire, take a look at this post on my blog.

S: What makes The Gladiator and the Guard stand out from other books in this genre?

A: I don’t know of any other books that take place in a world so similar to ours, and yet so disturbingly different in just a few key areas.

S: How did you get the idea for this book series?

A: I’ve had the idea growing in my mind for the last few years. It started as just a picture of the setting and its culture (with legalized slavery), and the plot and individual characters emerged little by little. The martial art of cavvara shil, which Bensin is proficient in, didn’t enter my imagination until just before I started drafting.

S. Does it relate to anything going on in our world today?

A: Not directly. I hope this story will make readers think about the value of human life and perhaps take a second look at some of the practices we accept or choose to turn a blind eye to in our own culture. Legalized slavery sounds so impossibly wrong that it’s easy to think we could never let it happen in this day and age, but how many other wrongs do we overlook just because it isn’t convenient to do anything about them?

S: What do you do when you’re not writing?

A: Besides writing, I enjoy reading (especially fantasy and science fiction) and scrapbooking. Hiking and other outdoor adventures are high on my list as well as travel (especially internationally). Oh, and my day job: I’m a 5^th grade teacher.

S: What’s next for you after The Gladiator and the Guard?

A: There will probably be one more book in this series, though I’m tossing around ideas that may eventually lead to other stories set in the same world. In the meantime, I’m working on a final book in my Annals of Alasia fantasy series, which should be ready to publish in the next few months. I also have a science fiction novel that I drafted for last year’s NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, in November). I hope to have that one polished and ready for publication in another year or so. Lots of irons in the fire!

If you want to connect with Annie, click on the links below:

Enter Below to win an Amazon gift card or free digital copy of The Collar and the Cavvarach.

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That In-Between Place

Posted on April 25, 2016 by sherryrossman

Many people lose their faith when they forget Lazarus. By human standards, it was far too late for him to receive his miracle. Four days in the grave doesn’t even take a lawyer to convince us of his demise. His sisters, Mary and Martha were devastated, both telling Jesus if only He had been there, their brother would have been saved.

For America, the last decade has been ripe with all kinds of Lazarus-loss. Everyone reading this probably knows someone, or have themselves lost a home or a job. A loved one or a marriage. No matter how advanced our culture becomes, hardship slips in on the breeze, impervious to financial status or healthy living. Parts of our lives crumble into the tomb where it’s dark, hopeless.

Trying to move forward can be full of bitterness; waking up to heartbreak every day, dragging our feet by that tomb holding our loss. Where is God when the good things start to slip away? Is His eye still on the sparrow?

Jesus didn’t scold the sisters for grieving or confronting Him about His absence when he showed up days late. He mourned with them.

Then He walked to the cave in which Lazarus was buried and raised him from the dead. Earlier, right before His journey to Bethany, He tells the disciples that He is going there to wake Lazarus, saying, “…and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe.”

There’s this place in-between where God works, like the three days between Jesus’ death on the cross and His resurrection. The days between Lazarus’ death and his own restoration. In this place, we’re reminded that we don’t rule the world. We can’t control our circumstances, but if we do like the sisters and the disciples and keep our eyes focused on Jesus, He’s going to show us how our circumstances can bring hope to a struggling world. Hope beyond what we could ever have imagined.

I hope you have a blessed weeks, friends. Just a reminder, Wake is on sale until Wednesday…only .99! As of this moment, it’s #1 Amazon bestseller in Christian Science Fiction.

Is This What He Really Looks Like?

Posted on April 20, 2016 by sherryrossman

Allow me to pop briefly into your Wednesday–It’s Monet’s question that gets addressed today on ManyBooks (and several more). Here we go:

“I stare into Luke’s eyes that are haunted by all those things reason can’t satisfy and meet them with my own question: Who are we now?”

Stop by ManyBooks as I address this scene and offer Wake on sale today. Click on those pretty blues of Luke’s to get there.

Call of the Jungle

Posted on April 18, 2016 by sherryrossman

I don’t know that I’ve ever been so pressed to work as I am this year. I won’t list all the titles and duties, because that doesn’t really matter. But the panorama of my project list has kept me dazing into its hypnotic eyes so much that I began to feel like Mowgli unknowingly being crushed in the grip of Kaa.

Deep into the night, I’ve gone over my list of have-to-get-dones, thinking about what I could shed from the stack; I’m not a workaholic by nature, and am careful not to turn into one—this is the child of the workaholic speaking—but it’s difficult navigating through this jungle. Gotta finish.

Sometimes you have to put down the tools anyway, because Kaa will eat you alive if you allow her to become your idol.

Our “fun” expert

So instead of preparing a blog ahead of time to avoid all those ugly editing blips, we took the kids to see Jungle Book, then come evening, I folded my daughter into my arms and we sat in front of the TV until her bedtime. On Sunday (blessed chair-sitting, holy-singing Sunday), the kids helped us with our grown-up chores, then we reveled in a bike ride. What’s better than the wind in your hair and God smiling upon your joy?

Don’t worry about getting lost in the wasteland—God made manna for those who rely on Him, not themselves.

I did learn something about the vital things you can miss when working too hard, but that’ll come next week.

Peace to you this Monday.

Pedaling Forward

Posted on April 11, 2016 by sherryrossman

Chloe just graduated to a new bike—a perfect infusion of pink and purple wonder-girl, just in time for spring. We didn’t realize how much she had grown until she laid down her old bike, replete with scratches and memories, and climbed onto her new one. What a difference! I thought her recent struggle to pedal was due to lack of riding, but no—she had moved into a new season of girlhood.

Off she cruised, uphill, over dirt and broken pavement; strong enough to handle it all despite the cold winter of insidedom. She was a little disappointed when her pristinely black tires arrived home coated in dirt, but was invigorated enough from her experience to let it go.

It seems to be a season of change for us, as well as for a few friends. Whether we think we’re ready to go forward or not, staying in our comfort zones may be more of a hindrance than we realize. In being called to the next step in our stories we may get a little dirty, but the experience can be spectacular.

Story Ghosts

Posted on April 4, 2016 by sherryrossman

I discovered a piece of my Dad’s unspoken story through a man who never knew him. The man, quarantined to his wheelchair, sat next to my desk at work and told me what Vietnam did to a man. I sat rapt, at he told me how, like many soldiers, he had to learn how to talk about it.

The stories coated in blood don’t come easily; they come in nightmares. They come in a sound or random gesture that morphs the mind’s eye into a battlefield all over again. This can produce all kinds of reactions which no one really understands unless they’ve walked the same dark mine fields.

With his yellow lab curled at his feet, he told me how someone taught him to expel some of the darkness through telling his story.

The three step snake. I literally pulled around my desk and sat forward. The three step snake was maybe the only thing I remember my Dad mentioning about Vietnam. “By the time you took the third step, you were dead,” said the man in the wheelchair and the memory of my Dad.

But nestled within horror, there was the honor. The lifted shoulders, the dignity, knowing that despite what others thought of that war, or whether or not a soldier volunteered or was drafted, the man and my dad both knew they could go in and lay down their lives for something bigger than themselves. They didn’t run—they stepped forward into the unknown.

I have a Russian sage in my front yard. It grows wildly huge, and the first season we lived in the house new sprouts of sage poked through the ground all over the front portion of the yard. Not wanting more bushes to take over the yard, I pulled, I hacked and cursed until I realized they were all connected to the same plant. I couldn’t see it at first because the branches were buried so deeply in the ground. This was the man in front of me. This was my Dad.

Although they were separated from each other through the dimension of heaven and earth, their stories live on just like their flesh and blood children. Part of my Dad’s story came to me despite his silence.

There’s something vitally important with our stories—something we can’t see in the physical realm, but something eternal. When people say to spill your heart out for your loved ones before you lose them, we all nod and agree, but if some things don’t get said, it’s okay. If there’s a story that needs to live on, God can extend it to you in His own boundless way.