Do You Believe in Ghosts?

Do you believe in ghosts?

 

With the ghostly element of my new book, HAUNTED HEART, coming out soon, I thought this might be appropriate.

Remember the advertisement for one of my favorite movies, "Ghost"? I've thought of that often, but until this experience I'm not sure I believed, despite the promise of the ad.

But when my daughter was a teen, we took in a French exchange student and it was absolutely one of the best things we’d done! Hortense was beautiful, smart as hell, very down to earth and a LOT of fun. As teens do, the number of French exchange students multiplied and we ended up with three more exchange students staying with us at least most of the summer.

We decided to take them all camping at Yosemite. I’d never been there and looked forward to a break from the California beaches, which are a bit crazy during the summer. But I worked as an Air Traffic Controller on a schedule they call “the rattler”, because it definitely leaves you rattled! In this schedule I typically didn’t have time to sleep between the early morning shift and the midnight shift that evening. And I very often had a consulting job or ice skating competition for my daughter the next morning. So staying awake and alert for 36 hours was something I had trained myself to do and thankfully haven’t done in years now.

This particular weekend was no exception. There were preparations to be made for camping. But I’d camped quite a lot in the mountains. I knew it would be comfortable, if not a bit cool at night.

After my midnight shift, we loaded all five of us into my Mazda MPV and headed out for our adventure. When we drove over Gorman pass to Bakersfield, my new car overheated and we had to stop for ten minutes several times. It was hot in the Central Valley. Of course, it was July!  But summer heat had been lost on me in that I lived on the coast and air conditioning consisted of opening my windows a bit wider and when it was extreme heat, I’d turn on an electric fan.

The kids had discovered a new American band and had asked to put in a C.D. They all sang the words aloud in broken English (except for my daughter) and within minutes I ascertained that none of them—not even my daughter—realized the words they were saying—thank God!. I fought back a blush and pushed eject on the stereo. We loaded a Latin music C.D. and everyone seemed to be enjoying it. Although I admit it may have been just as obscene.

We’d gotten a late start out of Yosemite, and with the numerous stops, it was after two am when we began our descent to the Yosemite Valley floor. The kids were all asleep and at that point, other than a brief nap, I had been awake for over 36 hours. NOTE: I cringe when I see that now. But back then, I was quite used to working and carrying on for days before sleeping.

Driving into the valley was extraordinary and I was re-invigorated. I could sense the spirituality of the place—something I had never experienced anyplace before. And I could feel the greatness of the monoliths that surrounded us. Their presence was sharply carved out of the brilliant star-filled sky.

The kids had left on the Latin music, and suddenly, I thought I could understood the words to the music.

We arrived at our campsite at 3am and set up camp. Our camp area was called “Housekeeping” and it consisted of three cement walls and a curtain. Outside of the curtain was a picnic table, and a fence that enclosed our camp and provided privacy. We closed the curtain with the girls inside on the beds, and the boys outside on the private porch and all fell into a deep slumber.

After my days without sleep, I usually made up for it when I did crash. But this time I woke unusually early to the sounds of camp—always pleasing sounds and smells: coffee and bacon, pancakes and eggs frying and the smell of fresh pines. I looked out at the gap in the curtain, it was a bit more open than we’d left it.

I remember quite vividly thinking, “We need to get the kids up so we can hike now. It’s going to get hot later.”  I glanced at my watch. It was 7am.  We’d slept only 4 hours. I argued with myself and couldn’t imagine why I thought it would get hot. After all, we were in the mountains. It doesn’t get hot in the mountains!

Sensibility won out and I went back to sleep for another three hours. When I did wake, the kids had already started breakfast and I was grateful. Yosemite was breathtaking and I couldn’t wait to get on the trail.

As we ate, Hortense asked me, “Who was that man?”

I asked, “What man?”

“The man you were speaking to this morning?”

I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about. I hadn’t spoken to anyone.

Hortense was not to be put off. “The man that said we had to get up to go hiking because it was going to get hot outside.”

A chill ran down my spine. I knew exactly what she was talking about, but it had most certainly not been a verbal discussion! I had opened my eyes and been fully awake. Still there had been almost an argument about the question of heat in the mountains.

Finally I said, “Hortense, there was no one there. I didn’t speak to anyone.”

She said, “Yes. It was the old cowboy, with the long gray beard.”

“Old cowboy?”

“Yes. And he spoke to you in Spanish.”

At this, I sat in stunned silence.

 

Several hours later we made the very rugged hike to the top of Yosemite Falls. And I discovered that it did in fact get hot in these mountains! I carried a gallon of water and by the time we got to the top, the water was gone. It hit over a hundred on the trail and the climb down was rough without water..

A few days later we walked through Yosemite lodge. There was a picture of John Muir and his team. There, next to Muir was a Hispanic looking old cowboy with a long gray beard and something about him was definitely familiar to me. I turned to Hortense and her eyes were wide as she nodded. It was him.

 

Nothing else happened the rest of our time. No floating items, no secret messages, no signs at all that there had been a visitor who had somehow worked his way past the boys cots and opened our curtain to warn us. Still, I will always remember the ghost I never saw. But yes, I believe. Do you?

From Trilogy to Series: The Oracles

Just two and a half years ago I had a few seconds that changed my life forever.

A single thought struck like lightning while on my drive into D.C. (right before the bridge). It was so vivid and intense that as soon as I parked, I pulled out my iPhone and began writing as I walked. That first scene from The Sibylline Oracle, has remained much the same as it was then on my tiny notepad. Ten weeks later I had the first draft to a trilogy.

While writing The Last Oracle, Book Three of what is now known as "The Oracles" (Sibylline Trilogy), I realized the problem. I had promised to resolve all of the issues in THREE books by calling it a trilogy.  But the novels had introduced characters, that in the initial vision I had never even considered. These characters had their own stories that were begging to be told. Also I felt there was much more to Alex and Valeria's story. Book Four has proven that.

Paolo Carrara became my favorite character and I felt that to end the series without giving him a future was to deny him what he deserved. Also I had written an entire back story to Paolo's mother, Kristiana, that was thoroughly researched and linked to historical events. I loved that story, and it guided events through all three books, but it had to be cut due to the length of The Last Oracle.

With that said, I am excited about Book Four: The Mists of Time, which will be released this year. It has been my favorite novel to write.  I'm hoping to have Book Five out by Christmas. Book Five will focus on Kristiana and who she really is. I think you'll be surprised (there are clues in all three books).

The very talented photographer and movie maker Fazil Ahmed will be working his magic in a cover shoot for Book Four, starring the intense and very sexy Paolo Carrara, captured perfectly by Attila Kozma and feisty Nicky/Antonia Morgan, to be portrayed by the beautiful and talented Trista Tripp. Both of these actors/models are just phenomenal and exactly what I envisioned for these characters.

I don't know if five books will tell the whole story. In the meanwhile, I hope you follow the release  at www.Facebook.com/DeliajColvin.

xox!

Delia

Finding Happiness

I've tried to stay out of it--despite my passion...despite my losses. I've tried to remind myself that my purpose in writing is to help people "feel good".

But there comes a time when knowing the truth just isn't good enough. There comes a time when you must speak up.  Robin William's suicide was yet another reminder that I need to say what I know to be true.

This is for you sweet Michael.

Many years ago, my brother married a woman who had given birth to an extremely premature child; Michael.  When I first met Michael, he was five years old, but the size of a three year old. He wore thick glasses for his reduced vision and hearing aids. He was nearly deaf without them. But the boy's pure JOY of life was contagious! Michael was one of the most beautifully sweet beings I have had the pleasure of meeting in my life.

In the early 90's, I read about various "feel good" drugs and had also been fortunate to have been warned of the price of that kind of "happiness". There were a number of them, mostly Prozac, Zoloft and to handle kids, Ritalin.

Once Michael was in school, his weak eye sight and over-stimulation from what he couldn't quite see or hear, made him a "perfect candidate" for Ritalin--which later led to many other drugs...and problems.

Once Michael was on Ritalin he constantly battled his emotions to find happiness. By the time Michael was in his teens, he was a problem child. He still had the beautiful smile that I remembered, but without any of the previous joy. He was on numerous prescription drugs designed to alter his mood and personality, and he was addicted to  street drugs.

When he was only twenty-two, he walked into his mother's house, hugged her and apologized for being such a failure in life. He walked into the shed in their backyard, took a gun to his head and blew his brains out.

Happiness is not measured in deeds done or goals met, but in the process of achieving your goals. When you rely on the pharmaceutical  "solutions" it offers neither happiness nor the ability to achieve your goals.  YOU were meant to climb MOUNTAINS not molehills--don't ever allow yourself to believe less of yourself.

I'm not telling you this heart-breaking story without purpose. It's because I wanted to understand WHY! In my research I found so many stories of Ritalin and Anti-psychotics/Anti-depressants linked to extraordinary violence (including every single one of the school shootings) and suicides from people that had been on these drugs for only weeks. Look at the side-effects! Read them! They aren't there as a mild warning.  And if you truly want to understand what we are doing to our children and to ourselves check out the site below.

YOU deserve a life full of happiness and joy. So did Robin...So did Corey...So did Michael.

http://www.cchr.org/videos.html

xox!

Delia

The One Thing

Two years ago I had a freak reaction to minor surgery when my blood began to coagulate at an abnormal rate creating numerous blood clots that raced through my veins, into my heart—nearly stopping it and then splattered onto the wall of my lungs in what the technician said was more blood clots than they had ever seen in a living person’s lungs.

Remember that great line from City Slickers:

Curly: Do you know what the secret of life is? One thing. Just one thing.

Mitch: But, what is the "one thing”?

Curly: That's what you have to find out.

In that moment with my heart pounding wildly, knowing I had only moments left of consciousness, to be honest there was more than one thing. There were three things.

First, believe it or not, I had run into the bathroom for some odd reason and I immediately realized that I did not want to do an "Elvis" and die in a bathroom... Yes, really. I returned to the living room.

Then I looked at my husband, Randy. It had been a very difficult couple years for him and I worried about how he would deal with this.

Randy and I have this amazing communication. Later, when they carried me to the back of the ambulance he was instructed to follow us.

As the doors to the ambulance were closed I thought, I don’t believe Randy knows that he will never see me again. A moment later the back of the ambulance opened and he smiled and said, “See? You thought you wouldn’t see me again.” He doesn’t remember saying that to me.

The third thing that I thought was that I was a storyteller yet nobody had ever read any of my stories. I had files and files of unfinished novels and screenplays. But I had never had the courage to allow anyone to read them and I had come to doubt my ability to complete a novel.

One year later I was still thinking about previous novels and how I would finish them “one day” when suddenly a new concept for a story flashed into my head in a matter of seconds. It was a storyline so odd to me in a genre I would never have considered and yet I was absolutely compelled to write.

I was working twelve hour days in D.C. in an intense job and truly no time to write. So I pulled out my iPhone and wrote on the notepad while walking the mile to and from my car, during lunch and other breaks and then in the evening when I got home.

In three weeks I had completed my first novel.

Seeing me writing on my computer was not an oddity at our home. What was odd, was when I took my laptop over to my husband’s desk and in a very small voice said, “I’ve just finished my first novel. Do you think you could take a look at it?”

Randy is not a fiction reader and it was absolutely terrifying for me to open my story to him. After reading for a few hours Randy turned to me and shook his head. I thought he didn’t like it. Then he said the words that forged our lives in a whole new direction:

“Forget air traffic control. This is what you were born to do!”

What an extraordinary gift! Followed by another…the story was a trilogy. Within ten weeks I had completed the first draft of a paranormal romance, The Sibylline Trilogy. This was followed by the arduous task of rewriting, editing and learning the book business in a world that is changing rapidly.

For the past year and three months I’ve been a full-time novelist and I now spend a glorious 10-14 hours a day mostly writing but also learning and working the book business. I’ve been blessed to have stumbled upon the most extraordinary of teachers—first and foremost the amazing Melissa Foster, bestselling author and best friend to authors around the world with her various author groups—primarily Fostering Success.

I’ve seen the first two novels of the trilogy, The Sibylline Oracle and The Symbolon hit Amazon’s bestsellers lists with extraordinary reception. I’ve made money (yes, it is possible). But mostly I am living a life that reflects my one thing—okay two things, my passions, my husband and my writing and it is a beautiful life!

I LOVE connecting with readers! If you've read my books please contact me at DeliaJColvin@gmail.com so that I can thank you personally!

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