Infinite Potential by Barbara Garren
February 24, 2014
Kelsi always Knows when bad things are coming, but even she never thought she’d lose her husband at only twenty-three. Since he died, she’s been living her worst nightmare.
Her nights are filled with dreams of a Dark Haired Man, but her days are full of guilt, because the Man fills her with longing and confusion, promising to give her all she needs, all she wants, all she feared she’d never have again.
If only the dreams would stay in her head where they belong.
Kelsi starts seeing the Dark Haired Man in her waking life, shadowing her wherever she goes. And when her mysterious new neighbor, Aiden Hardt, knows about the Man in her dreams, Kelsi worries she can’t trust her own mind.
He’s not what he seems.
But even Aiden’s cryptic words don’t frighten her as much as the way she feels around him. Kelsi must sort through her emotions and figure out what’s real before she can ever hope to have a normal life again.
Writing as art, and how I learned to embrace my artistry.
First, let me say that I come from an extremely talented family. There are any number of gifted and recognized painters and sculptors lurking in the limbs of my family tree. My grandfather is a well-known painter, my uncle, mother, brother. Me? I can’t draw a box to climb out of! So, with this in mind it’s easy to understand how I grew up thinking I had zero creative talent.
And yet – I’ve crafted stories as long as I can remember. As a young girl I would write plays and act them out with my friends, as a (typical) teenager, I filled stacks of notebooks with poems and short stories. As a young adult, I gifted (LOL) family members with stories I’d written. Lying in bed on any given night, unable to sleep, I would spin fantasies and makeup tales to help me sleep. I still do.
It wasn’t until recently (that being a relative term) that I began to seriously consider the craft I practiced as a creative, artistic outlet. My husband had been nagging me (really – no nice way to put it) to write a book and I finally took him up on it. I wrote my first book over a couple of months; did some basic editing and sent it around to friends, family and relatives.
They loved it. They praised it. They commented on my artistry and creativity. I sat there with my mouth open, dumb-founded. Me, creative? Artistic? Really? As much as I’ve loved the written/spoken word, as much as I’ve appreciated the craft and talent of other writers, I couldn’t see the same attributes in my own work. I couldn’t connect my own ability to develop a pleasing piece of prose with that of Steinbeck, Faulkner or Whitman. I could not think of myself as an artist.
But I was. I am. I will always be.
The first book hasn’t gone anywhere. It needs a woeful amount of revising before it’s ready for public consumption, but it taught me so much! I’ve learned I have a unique voice and I need to not only trust in it, but to give it free rein. I’ve learned I have stories to tell that people want to hear, and I should follow my gut when deciding what to write. And it taught me to polish, polish, polish until it shines so bright you need sunglasses to read it, then set it adrift in the universe of publishing.
Because art is meant to be seen, whether on the wall, on film or on the written page.
Giveaway: Phasms Giveaway
About the Author
Barbara was born and raised in Southern California, but left to explore the world courtesy of the U.S. Navy. After traveling the world, she forced herself to live a humble life in in San Francisco, New York and Norfolk, Virginia. She now calls San Diego home and you won’t pry her out with a crowbar.
She would be the first to tell you her husband, Henry, is the inspiration for all the romance, and the real Charlie – who is as cute as he sounds in her books – is a terrorist. When not working for the U.S. Navy, she can be found running, reading or writing. She firmly believes a well rounded diet consists of coffee, scotch, chocolate, popcorn and Luna Bars. In that order.
She’s a graduate of CUNY and Penn State – and manages to write a decent line here and there despite those burdens.
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