A Fairytale, a Family Tradition, a Little Innocent Potty Humor, and a Three Year Old’s Laughter

Contest!  Contest!  Today, I’m giving away my first ARC to one lucky person who leaves a comment.

In a land far, far away, Prince Aa-choo searched for his princess, the love of his life.  Oh, how he longed to find that beautiful maiden who could laugh with him and who could love him in spite of his one BIG flaw— his frequent and extremely loud sneezes—sneezes so loud, the rest of the kingdom would run for cover, certain the sky would be falling soon.  Oh, he tried to keep the noise level of his sneezes down, but the need to sneeze would come on so fast, that he had no time to think of trying to quiet the noise.  Why, he barely had time to cover his nose.  Having a tissue in hands at all time was a must.

Prince Aa-choo met many beautiful maidens in his search for true love.  But after one sneeze too many, each girl would run from the castle complaining that his sneezes were downright frightening to hear and too much to bare.  It was almost enough to break the prince's heart.

Then after months of searching, of being lonely, he heard a wizard telling a story of a poor maiden in a land many miles from his kingdom.  What really intrigued Prince Aa-choos was that this maiden had been cursed with the inability to sneeze.   Oh, the inside of her nose would tickle and she could feel the sneeze at the tip of her nose, but then she just couldn’t follow through. 

Instantly, the prince had a thought.  What better person to understand his flaw than a princess who longed to sneeze?  So he packed his bags, readied his carriage, and off he went to find his sneeze-less maiden, whom he was certain would become his princess bride. 

After long days of traveling, he came upon her village.  It was late, but the prince could not wait until morning.  So he quietly climbed the tower to her room where she slept.  He walked over to her bed and gazed down at her. She was so beautiful he feared she could never love a sneezing man like himself.  But without thinking he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.  The collar of his shirt was covered in fur, and as he kissed her, the fur brushed across the end of her nose, and she drew in a big breath and then . . . and then she did the impossible.  She sneezed.  What's more, she sneezed all over the prince!  Covered him in boogers.

She woke up, startled by the prince’s presence in her chambers, but so happy that she had actually sneezed, she hugged him, and when she did, she sneezed again.  Then the prince sneezed and it was so loud it shook the walls of her tower.   They both started laughing.  They lived happily ever after and had children who could always sneeze.  And could sneeze as loud as they needed to.

The End.

Okay…I know that was a stretch from my regular blogs, but you see, hubby and I had our three-year-old granddaughter staying with us this weekend.  And my granddaughter, knowing her grandmother is a storyteller, is always saying, “Mawmaw, tell me a story.  Please, just one more.” 

Funny thing is, I may be the first published writer in my family, but being from Alabama, part of that Southern culture and my heritage involves storytelling.  Oh, the stories my family would tell around the kitchen table.  I can still remember asking my grandfather to tell me about the mean rooster he accidentally killed with his sling shot. 

Part of me, when I’m telling crazy stories—stories that instill laughter from my fairytale-loving granddaughter—knows that I’m carrying on a family tradition.  One that I’m sure began even before my grandfather started talking about mean roosters.   

Oh, I know the story of Prince Aa-Choo may not be one of my best works, but you see, Pawpaw, my hubby, is a champion loud sneezer.  When his granddaughter heard him sneeze while he was downstairs, and she was upstairs, she found it very humorous.   And then that evening, when the Little Wonder insisted grandma tell her a story. . .  Well, the story of Prince Aa-Choo just came into being.

And no matter how silly it was, that Little Wonder laughed with delight at my story.  Her love of princesses, her love of grandpa and his loud, thunderous sneezes, and her inherited love of potty humor from her grandma, all came together in one story.  And I have a feeling that someday down the line, she’ll look at her own granddaughter and start a story that begins, “In a land far, far way . . .”

So, now you know what I did this weekend.  What did you guys do?  Any stories or fairytales to tell?  And today, in honor of my next release, Blame it on Texas, a story that has love, laughter, and a little potty humor, I’m giving away my first ARC.  So make sure you leave a comment.

Mawmaw . . . Or AKA, Crime Scene Christie

  

Who Am I? Who Are You?

It happened almost ten years ago.  I woke up from a dead sleep.  And for about five seconds, five very long terrifying seconds, I had amnesia.  I didn’t have a clue who I was or where I was.  And I sure as heck didn’t have a clue who the woman was that was in bed with me.   

 I remember with clarity those horrifying few seconds—panic swelling up inside me, staring at this strange woman, her red hair sticking out in different directions, and screaming at the top of my lungs, “Who are you?”

She looked as frightened as I felt, but she forced a calm in her voice when she answered, “I’m your mama.”

It didn’t take a second after she said that for it all come back.  I was Christie Craig and Mom and I had gone on a mother/daughter trip and we were sleeping in a hotel room.     

I remember all I said was, “Oh.”  And I rolled over and went back to sleep.  Or at least I tried. 

Mama started laughing.   “Do I look that bad without my makeup?” she asked.

Then, I started laughing.  I don’t think we slept very much after that.

As funny as it turned out to be—yes, Mom still kids me about it—those few terrifying seconds of feeling nothing but a vast emptiness has stuck with me forever.  And that question, not the one I asked my mom, but the one I asked myself, “who am I,” has not only danced around my mind all this time, but it’s inspired several stories.

 August 10th, my third book, Taken at Dusk, in my young adult paranormal romance series, Shadow Falls, was released.  The underline theme in that book is one of an identity crisis.  At age sixteen, Kylie Galen, is trying to figure out who she is, only to realize she doesn’t know what she is.  Learning she isn’t all human is quite a shock to her—especially since up until she was sent to Shadow Falls Camp, she didn’t know non-humans existed. 

Kylie’s story is a young girl’s journey of self-discovery into friendship, and into young love.  And like me that night so long ago, she’s also trying to figure out who the heck her mom is.  

In my book, Blame it on Texas, the second book in my Hotter in Texas series, that will be out August, I again used the Identity crisis theme.  Imagine seeing a childhood picture of yourself splashed across the TV screen on an unsolved mystery show claiming you were kidnapped from some highfalutin Texas millionaire family.  Imagine learning that your corpse was supposedly discovered shortly after you were kidnapped.  Imagine it, when all your life you’ve had some strange memories that didn’t make sense.   And again, like that night ten years ago, my heroine, Zoe Adams not only is trying to find out who she is, but who the woman is that pretended to be her mother all those years. 

I think the question, “Who am I?”  is one we all ask ourselves every now and then.  Sometimes even when we’re awake.  A couple of years ago, I decided to do what any intelligent person would do who had a question scratching across the blackboard of her mind.  I went to Google and I Googled myself.  

I learned: 

I’ve been arrested.

I died.

I’m a politician.

I’m a porn star.

I’ve ran marathons.

And with a slight variation of my name, I’m a man who recently stalked Sarah Palin. 

Let me tell you, there are a few things there, I never thought I’d do.  Seriously, running marathons is not my thing.

Okay, so Googling isn’t the best way to answer the “Who am I?” question—but hey, it was a lot of fun. 

Maybe who I am and who we all are is connected to who and what I love.  I suppose the fact that I love wine, chocolate, and writing wacky stories makes me a bit of a wine-loving whacky chocoholic writer.  But that isn’t really who I am.

I’m a mother of two exceptional human beings who love life and laughter.  I’m a new grandma to a little girl whose sense of awe is inspiring.  I’m a wife to a man whose crazy antics brings me joy.  Even when those antics start fires.  A man whose support includes doing laundry and copy edits. I’m a daughter to a mother who when screamed at in middle of the night, finds humor in the moment and will never let me forget the embarrassment.

So, now that I told you about who I am, let me ask:  who are you?  If you would like a good laugh, go Google yourself. 

To one person leaving a post, telling me who you are, I’ll give away a $10 Amazon card.  So make sure you leave a comment.

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