The Book is Set Free

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

It is hard to describe the feeling of seeing your book for the first time. Oh, you have poured over the pages many, many times, have seen pictures of the cover, knew the approximate page count, but the emotion of opening the box and grasping the proof of what you have labored to create, is indescribable.

It is the moment art moves from the internal to external―from the imagined to the real.

In November I wrote a blog post shortly after the fist box arrived, about just that feeling. Today I write about a book next feeble steps forward, on its own legs.

March 7^th is a significant day on the calendar. On that day in 1925, my father was born. I was asked to pick a day, any day, for the public release of With the Sun’s Rising. I picked Dad's Birthday.

And so, the third book of the Misty Creek Series has gone what publishers call live, on Tuesday. It has been set free from the box―if you will.

I will not predict how successful With the Sun’s Rising will be. Honestly that will depend upon many things, one of them is just how aggressively I promote it. The release party we had at La D’zert Café Thursday was only the beginning. The fine folks there provided a wonderful setting and fantastic treats, and I thank them for their unwavering faith in this author and the use of the beautiful space downtown Plymouth. But that event was only the beginning. In the next months I hope to find the time to do other Author’s Events. I’ll let you know where and when.

But no matter how well the book sells, I am proud of the finished product―proud of the story.

It is my hope that fans of the series will be pleased as well.  

(306 Words) 3-11-2023

Another Excerpt from With the Sun's Rising

 

Tuesday March 7th, would have been my father's 98th birthday. I chose that date for the official release of With the Sun's Rising, the third book of the Misty Creek Series. To celebrate the release of this book I offer here the first few pages. 

I hope to see some of you at the official release event, Thursday March 9th 5:00 till 7:00 PM (EST). The vent will be hosted by La D'zert Cafe, 401 N. Michigan Street. Plymouth, Indiana. 

Stay tuned for other events in the coming months.

John

Another Excerpt from With the Sun’s Rising

By John Vander Velden

 

 

Through the open window Elizabeth heard the night breeze as it flowed past the

treetops. The soft whoosh, which would have lifted her curtains had she finished them, brought with it the scents of woods and water. Matthew, lying warm and near, slept quietly. Even now, as a married woman, she found sharing a bed with her new husband a novel experience in so many ways.

She listened closely to Matthew’s soft breathing, proof that she wasn’t in the center of a wonderful dream. Never would she have imagined, on that summer day just two years ago that she, a heartbroken teacher, could find the love she now shared. Leaving Ohio, the only world she knew had been the catalyst to this life.

Elizabeth turned to face his form so near. She yearned to reach out, to touch Matthew, to lay her head against his chest and hear the calming thump, thump, thump of his heart, but she refrained from waking him. How hard her husband, who stood so tall and straight, worked. For though the mill nearby slept through the night, Matthew had labored long hours within the thrumming structure. Hard days of heavy lifting and carefully operating the countless gears and shafts, not to mention the grand water wheel that turned the stones and ground corn or wheat, each in their season.

Yes, Matthew needed his rest, and more, deserved it.

Their new life in Misty Creek would be idyllic if not for the memory of Leon Simns, the short grubby farmer that had hated the school and her, its teacher. She would never forget how Simns had stood lurking about and spying on the class from the school yard on multiple occasions. Elizabeth should have taken his threats seriously, and Matthew had paid dearly for her failing.

Simns had caught her unaware as she walked the path beneath the trees, not much more than a mile north of the bed she shared with Matthew. The tall man, long before he became her husband, had saved her from Simns’ vile hands that May afternoon. Now as she viewed Matthew’s silhouette in the late night’s dimness, her mind flashed to the image of his wounded form beneath the trees. Elizabeth closed her eyes attempting to push that memory aside, fearing her involuntary tremble would wake her man.

Matthew rolled onto his back. Snoring proved he slept, peacefully she hoped.

But on this particular night, Elizabeth felt no peace. Matthew had nearly died. Simns’ knife had nearly completed the evil man’s task. It was but the first time Simns had attempted to end the miller of Misty Creek’s life. There had been two others. She found the darkest parts of the night were the times was when Leon Simns haunted her most. Times, while Matthew slept at her side, when a shadow crossed the open window, or the eerie hoot came in out of the night, Elizabeth was reminded of a world not as peaceful as it seemed. Tonight, it was the coyote’s call, much nearer than ever before, that released the memories of Leon Simns. Would the man always remain a dark cloud that haunted and caused her to catch her breath? Twice as she slept, when the image of the man leering down on her that hot August afternoon only weeks ago burst into her mind, Elizabeth’s muscles had snapped, waking her husband.

Each time Matthew had asked sleepily, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s only a bad dream,” she had answered, hoping it was enough.

Both times he had opened his arm and held her close. Both times she had hated herself for not telling the man she loved the truth.