Jeanne Owens, author

Blog about author Jeanne Owens and her writing


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Available Now – Chronicles of Riss: Adventures in Sorcery Paperback Edition

It’s here! It’s finally here! Woohoo!

What is? The paperback edition of my book, Chronicles of Riss: Adventures in Sorcery, that’s what! After debating it for a while, I finally decided to have a paperback version of this short story collection. And now it’s here and Chronicles of Riss is no longer only available as an ebook. Now, those of you who prefer to hold an actual book in your hand to read instead of an e-reader can enjoy this book full of fun, fantastical adventures.

 

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Confronting evil sorcerers. Fighting monsters. Dueling metal golems. Searching for a sea monster. Hunting lost treasure. Finding a missing show dog. Competing in talent contests. Helping lost children. These are just some of the widely varied exploits that the young mercenary sorceress Marissa “Riss” Cobalt shares in this second Adventures in Sorcery book. Riss reveals how she ended up as a mercenary and chronicles some of the many adventures, ranging from fun to serious, that she’s had prior to the events of Kismet and Tell.

 

 

 

 

Get it now on Amazon by clicking here.

You can get the ebook version on Amazon here and at other online bookstores, like Barnes & Noble.

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No Reservations – Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCS

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He sat at the restaurant’s table and swirled the wine in his glass. As he waited for her, his mind drifted back to the conversation he’d had earlier that afternoon with his best friend.

He had been getting ready when Mark had called, and they talked as he got dressed.

“So where are you and Lidia going?” Mark had asked.

“I got us reservations for 5:00 at Michel’s.”

“Wow! You’re really going all out for this, aren’t you?”

“You know it.”

“Really going to do it, huh? No second thoughts? No reservations about your decision?”

“Nope. None at all.”

“Well, good luck, man. I hope it goes well for you.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

He gazed pensively into the wine in his glass. Am I really sure about this? he thought despite what he’d told Mark. I’m not making a mistake, am I?

Lidia walked up to the table, escorted by a waiter, and sat down across from him with a big grin on her beautiful face, and any doubts he had about his decision evaporated.

No reservations at all, he thought with a grin of his own as he slowly began to slide the ring box from his pants pocket.


This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “reservation”:

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS June 16/18


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Demotivational Posters for Writers

Tara Sparling writes

Following on from last week’s post, which made us all envision a team of fresh-faced enthusiastic writers, chucked into the lion’s den that is a London hedge fund, I found myself wondering what their office would be like.

Would it be a triumph of modernist minimalism, all glass and chrome, with the odd adornment of bamboo? Or would it be a throwback, stuck somewhere around 1997, festooned with greys and beiges, with undeniably depressing motivational posters adding to the gloom?

And then I thought – this hedge fund seems to have thought things through quite a lot already. They have the psychometric tests all lined up and ready to go. Mightn’t they be more likely to go for something a little less obvious?

Of course they would.

I therefore now present to you – the Demotivational Posters of the Hedge Fund Writers’ Office.

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The trouble with using long words…Stephen King QUOTES FOR WRITERS (and people who like quotes)

BRIDGET WHELAN writer

embarrassed boyOne of the really bad things you can do to your writing is to dress up the vocabulary, working for long words because you’re maybe a little bit ashamed of your short ones. This is like dressing up a household pet in evening clothes. The pet is embarrassed, and the person who committed this act of premeditated cuteness should be even more embarrassed.
Stephen King

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You Might Be an English Teacher If…

Accidentally Inspired

Does anything contribute to sudden discomfort and fits of blinking into the middle distance than a poorly-placed bit of punctuation?

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What the hell does “daily” mean? If it’s sliced everyday, you don’t put “daily” in scare-quotes like that!

Who is the guy who writes the copy that goes on the packaging? Where is their copy editor? Do these people realize just how much strife they’ve caused me? It’s 5:45 in the morning, I’m trying to make a sandwich to send my kid off to school, and now my sleep-addled brain is burning out its tires trying to puzzle out just why in the name of all that’s holy the word “daily” isn’t just the word daily there.

Is it more-or-less daily? Like, some days they slice it, some days they don’t, but on the average, they slice it every day? Or is it “daily” as in taking place on…

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Grilling – Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCS

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It took many long hours and many unsuccessful attempts,  but after finally successfully grilling his mother-in-law for her secret barbecue sauce recipe, Jackson fired up his grill and loaded it up with steaks and slabs of ribs, then went back inside to prepare the barbecue sauce and sides for his Memorial Day cookout.

Meanwhile, Sammy, who was dozing under one of the trees in the backyard, smelled the meat Jackson was grilling and woke up. He glanced around, trying to find where it was coming from, and spotted the grill.

His mouth watering, Sammy looked around again, this time to see if anyone was around. Seeing the coast was clear, Sammy carefully crept towards the grill, just in case someone might spot him.

Sammy stared at the grill, eyes wide at the sight of all the meat. He couldn’t believe the feast he saw. A little drool dripped from the corner of his mouth. Unable to control his urges, Sammy jumped up on the table beside the grill and reached out for a steak.

Jackson came back outside with a bowl of barbecue sauce in hand and spotted Sammy on the table with a steak half-pulled off the grill. “Sammy, NO!” he cried out. “Bad cat! Get down!”

He ran over just as Sammy jumped down from the table, steak dangling from his mouth, and ran across the lawn. Jackson watched in shock as his cat and steak disappeared among the bushes.


This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday:

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS May 26/18

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