MY DWINDLING WINTER WONDERLAND
I grew up in Coral Gables, Florida where winter meant the occasional need to don a sweater or quit swimming in the pool. I never even saw snow until I was twenty-three. So I don’t have a deep attachment to it, and songs like “Winter Wonderland” never make me nostalgic for snowmen. When I hear it, however, it simply causes me angst about the increased deterioration of our environment.
In the lane, snow is glistening
A beautiful sight
We’re happy tonight
Walking in a winter wonderland
In 1934, when Felix Bernard and Richard B. Smith wrote their cheery pop song, they didn’t have solastalgia. That’s an actual, newly coined term that means heartache over the loss of one’s environment. It’s aptly named; you feel the longing for a healthier planet when the word rolls off your tongue.
While I was writing my new Young Adult fantasy/sci-fi/adventure/romance, Revealing Eden (Save The Pearls Part One), I was surprised to tap into my own deep solastalgia. Like seventeen-year old Eden Newman, I hadn’t realized how sad it made me. When her love interest, the beastly Bramford tells her she has solstalgia whether she knows it or not, he could have been talking to me.
Mostly, I sit at my computer writing or taking care of business. I play tennis on manicured courts weekly, which gets me outside. Rarely, however, am I in the wild. I’m insulated from nature, just like Eden.
In her post-apocalyptic world, mankind lives in underground tunnels to avoid the intense solar radiation, sleeping by day, working through the nights. When Eden unwittingly compromises her father’s secret biological experiment, perhaps mankind’s only hope, she is cast out into the last patch of rainforest and also the arms of Bramford who she believes in her enemy, despite her overwhelming attraction.
Eden is completely at a loss, unable to survive. This is my fear too: how would I survive if a nuclear bomb or tsunami hit my coastal town of Santa Monica. I don’t even know how to build a campfire or trap a squirrel. The odds are slim, I tell myself.
And yet, when I think about how different the world is from the “Winter Wonderland” of 1934 with today’s melting icebergs and warming seas, I can’t help but worry. Not just for me, but also for my children and the children I hope they’ll have.
The overconsumption of this holiday season only adds to my angst. Wouldn’t it be amazing if instead of chopping down trees for decoration it became a time for everyone to plant one? Instead of fancy paper tossed aside on Christmas morning, why don’t we recycle old newspapers for wrapping? And I know I’ll sound like a humbug, but really, the decorative lights? Yes, they’re pretty, but wouldn’t it be better to save the electricity? Isn’t the sight of twinkling stars scattered across a glass-black sky enough to satisfy?
At some point, we will have to reign in our destructive impulses and live more in tune with Mother Nature. If not, well, read Revealing Eden and see how the future may turn out. Not only will the loss of our habitat mess with our holiday plans, but I also imagine that many social conventions will be turned on their head. In our day, Eden would be considered gorgeous: thin, blue-eyed and blond, right? In the future, when her white skin doesn’t provide enough protection against The Heat, she is branded as a lowly Pearl. Unless she soon finds a mate, she’s doomed. She hopes a dark-skinned Coal will save her, but time is running out. ―Victoria Foyt
It could happen to you or yours, my friend.
So this holiday season ask what can I do to create a more sustainable environment? And maybe future generations won’t feel heartbreaking solastalgia when they hear these hopeful lyrics:
As we dream by the fire
To face unafraid
The plans that we’ve made
Walking in a winter wonderland.
WAITING FOR CHRISTMAS
Christmas is coming. Everyone thinks the days are getting shorter but any kid under the age of twelve can tell you that’s a load of crap. Sure the suns is just phoning it in like everyone else over the holidays, except maybe Santa—imagine being an elf and trying to ask for the holidays off. But the point I’m trying to make is that as far as a kid is concerned, Einstein had it right and time really is relative. Time is slowing down, dragging itself to the finish line as if it had cinder blocks tied around its legs. Anticipation and desire has that effect on time. The more you want something…the longer the wait, regardless of what clocks and calendars might insist, and everyone knows they both lie just as much as bathroom weight scales.
I was a kid back before there were color photos, and at times I remember my childhood that way—all black and white like a Leave It to Beaver episode. It was the early sixties, the hey-day of Christmas-for-kids. Throughout most of history Christmas was a very grown-up holiday, but after the start of the twentieth century it started to orient toward children. The middle class found wealth and wanted to spoil their kids with Christmas trees, tales of Santa, cartoons in primetime, and of course presents.
When I was a kid there were BB guns, cap guns, rubber band guns—hey, we had been through two world wars and still in Vietnam, what’d you expect? There was also Play-Doh, Easy-Bake Ovens, Erector Sets, Barbie, and GI Joe. But I knew what I would be getting: a Tonka dump truck and bulldozer set. I had wanted something else—I no longer remember what—but my dad talked me into the all-metal, heavy-duty construction toys that I could play with in the backyard, moving real dirt. I was sold. I was more than sold, I was freaking out with anticipation. It didn’t matter that I lived in Michigan and in December there was a foot of snow covering every square inch of dirt in our backyard I wanted those trucks more than I had ever wanted anything in my short life. I had lain awake each night staring at the ceiling above my bed imagining how I would create super highways the likes of which had never been dreamed of before or since.
For any kid waiting for a their first set of Tonka trucks so they could realize Eisenhower’s dream of a transcontinental freeway system that began right in their own backyard, I can confirm that Christmas Eve is the longest night ever. I had laid awake picturing hundreds of Matchbox commuters backed up at the off-ramps, honking horns at the creeps flying up the closed lane refusing to merge early with the rest. They were always the ones in the sports cars with the double strips and the doors and trunk that actually opened. You just knew they were tools.
The waiting was torture, penance for not eating Brussels’ sprouts—like we really needed tiny cabbage from the Netherlands anyway. My parents were awake. I could hear them in the living room, and given that my father appeared as excited about my coming construction vehicles as I had been, I wondered if he and Mom were in there already playing with them. My little heart pounded like a young puppy. I looked at the clock and the minute hand had yet to tock. It was just frozen there at three past nine. My God! I had only been in bed three minutes! How was that possible? The night would never—
My mother shook me for the third time, but all I wanted to do was sleep. She was always shaking me, calling my name…usually for school. I just hugged the pillow harder, hanging on with a death grip trying to drift back to wonderful sleep.
“Michael, get up. It’s Christmas.”
Through the foggy haze that one single word—Christmas—penetrated like a lightning bolt. Eyes snapped wide and I rocketed out of bed. I sprinted down the hall to the living room. It was all dark, the sun was still dozing, and not even the tree lights were on but…I could see strange new shapes in the shadows. Large shapes.
I headed for the tree, but my mother caught me. “Get washed and dressed first. We need to go to church.”
Huh? Church? It was like throwing a car speeding at ninety miles per hour into reverse. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding, lady. Of all days, why do you insist on going to church on Christmas! That’s just nuts. There was no reasoning with her. Out into the icy cold we went, riding to the church in the middle of the night like we were the Van Trap family escaping Austria. I sat on a wooden pew between my mother and sister.
“Watch the stained-glass windows,” my sister whispered to me sagely. They were jet black as if covered with tar paper. “When you see them light up—when you can see colors in them and make out the faces of the saints…it will almost be time to go.”
So I sat, fists and teeth clenched, staring up at the windows whose dull blackness mocked me. All the while the priest, nothing more than a disembodied voice, babbled on about a baby, some sheep, and a star. Just as I had become certain my brat of a sister was also a lying dog, I saw it. Faint at first, but it was there, the hazy outline of a face in the window—blues, yellows, reds and greens. I could see colors in the stained glass! My sister gave me a knowing smile, and sure enough, everyone in the church started singing joyously, and for the first time I felt moved on a spiritual level while in church. It was a Christmas miracle!
When we arrived home I sprinted for the door. “Wait!” My mother cried. “Breakfast first!”
We all stared incredulously—even my dad had a puzzled expression.
“Just kidding,” she said.
To this day, few things can compare to that moment. As I grew older I often longed for that purity of total unabashed desire. The years that followed were filled with disappointments, and I learned never to surrender myself so fully to expectations. Such wanton passion inevitably led to disappointment. There was the time I finally managed to land a date with the girl I had been in love with since grade school—crashed and burned. Or the day I got my first car and then it broke down on the ride home. Nothing was ever as good as I imagined, maybe because of my over developed imagination.
You see, I’m a fantasy novelist. And this Christmas, more than four decades later, I’m reliving that same experience I had as a kid, waiting for the Tonka trucks. This time it involves my series The Riyria Revelations, which is being released this holiday season in three volumes: Theft of Swords, Rise of Empire, and Heir of Novron. The first two have just come out and the final one is due in January. It’s been a long time in the making—twenty-one years to be exact. You see I did something kind of crazy and wrote all six books before publishing the first. Truth be told, I wasn’t even planning on publishing them. The idea came to me in 1990 but at that time I had sworn off writing as my previous thirteen novels went nowhere. Still, I couldn’t help turning the story around in my head…playing with it like a tongue probes the empty space of a newly lost tooth. I finally started writing it in 2004 and it only took four years of writing and two and a half years of editing to get it to where it is now…and since about June it’s just been down to the waiting.
Given the timing of the season, it’s hard not to remember lying in bed imagining super highways, or staring up at that stained glass looking for the color of the saint’s faces to appear—to reveal a miracle. This is the first time in nearly half a century that I’ve allowed myself to dream again, to hope, to passionately give myself up to the excitement of what lies just a short time away. While I may be risking a terrible disappointment like that first date or my first car, I think this one is worth the risk.
I hope people like my books…I hope all the effort and late nights wasn’t just a waste of time. Soon I’ll know what people think of the series…the whole series. But until January I’ll just stare up at those windows and wait for the rising sun. It won’t be long now…right? ―Michael J. Sullivan
SINGS TO CROWS. A SHORT STORY
(-66 to 54) DECEMBER 2011
The fifteenth Dalai Lama, fifty-seventh President of the United States, and seventh Consul of the Free Noösphere, Sings to Crows died today in Turkeyturn, the location of the Oneida Indian Reservation in the New York region of North America where he was born in the year -66.
The lifelong advocate of happiness and Humanity began his life in a world closer in form to the Industrial Age than to our own, before the Noösphere and Emergence, and times were hard in America. Everything was changing - Humanity was beginning to build the first versions of a global network while the old medieval systems of governance and finance around the world inexorably turned from relevant to revenant - and if it hadn’t been for the kind-eyed Oneida boy from Turkeyturn, who knows what our species would have made of itself.
As a spiritual leader, he modernized pre-Emergent Buddhism and managed its reconciliation with the knowledge and practices of Science, following his previous iteration’s efforts in leading the way for the old religions finally to wander out of the dark ages while providing Science language with which to excavate the spiritual. As President of the United States, he took the ultimate risk with the Grand Gesture, deconstructing the American military complex, which over two decades succeeded through example in ridding essentially the entire Earth of its old nationalistic military system. As Consul of the Free Noösphere, he was instrumental in the adoption of the Edict of Freewill and Individuation, setting a precedent for the liberty of individuals of any form from the unwanted influence of metamind conglomerates, without which legislation there would likely not be biological life left in the solar system.
Though later in life he was aided by a modified Jarvik circulatory prosthesis after a failed gene poisoning attempt during his presidency, Sings to Crows always remained essentially biological, maintaining the majority of the body he was born with in the Flesher tradition. While not philosophically a Flesher, he was always a Humanist, and when in his early adulthood he finally did come to ideological grips with the Transhumanists and joined the ranks of that group, he brought with him into the movement some of the notions of individualism and wildness that could now be said to have kept it alive in the face of metamind-perceived inevitability, while also building credence among the Transhumanists for the oft-misunderstood ethos of Flesherism.
Sings to Crows’ parents were the simple-living Crowfoot and Beatrix Graves, briefly famous in their own right after the great Belgian documentarian Audrey Nijs chronicled their love, marriage and personal philosophies in the beautiful and inspirational movie Turkeyturn Mornings. He was the third of the couple’s three boys, preceded by older brothers Bicycle Kick and Good Gloves, both of whom survive him, and he was followed after just over a year by his younger sister Isis Jane. He and his siblings all spoke with tenderness and nostalgia of their formative years in Turkeyturn; their family bond was clearly strong. Sings to Crows’ sister Isis Jane was his closest friend growing up, and the two remained confidants throughout their lives, until her assassination at the hands of Flesher extremists in the Intercalary Period at the end of the Evolutionary War.
His Holiness’ identity as the fifteenth incarnation of the Dalai Lama was discovered when he was a boy of only four, with the help of Lamas Sonam and Dawa, who had been associates of Tenzin Gyatso and would become close friends and teachers of the young, new Dalai Lama throughout his childhood. It was Lamas Sonam and Dawa who famously accompanied Sings to Crows through public school for twelve years. In photographs and video from his boyhood, the two monks can often be seen standing near him, smiling brightly in their orange robes, and would remain by his side as advisors until their deaths two weeks apart while Sings to Crows was in law school.
The emergence of a Tibetan Buddhist spiritual leader who was also both a modern American child and a descendent of the Haudenosaunee, however, caused the young man’s childhood to be surrounded continually by global controversy. As an adorable, good-natured youngster, he quickly became a media favorite and appeared intermittently throughout the Thirsty Thirties as a culture-commentator and anti-war advocate, however his relatively radical post-capitalist ideologies made him a target for conservative vitriol even at such a young age.
After receiving a JD degree from Tulane Law School at the vigorous age of twenty, Sings to Crows began his first official world tour as Dalai Lama, during which he made the connections with other cosmopolitan philosophers and aid organizations that would eventually form the neural net of his global activism network One Love, which in the following decades would become one of the first metaminds and remains among the few such entities not generally detested by humans.
By the time he was twenty-five, Sings to Crows had become a global figure and role model, and it was Buddhism which began to chafe at its leader’s controversial admonitions. During this period he wrote perhaps his most important essay, Nothing Is False, which shattered many of the traditional dogmas of Mahayana Buddhism and old-style religion in general, and advocated a scientific exploration into the nature of identity, spirituality and reincarnation - all increasingly relevant issues at the time, as the world of nature was gradually painted over by the earliest layers of the virtual world which would become the Noösphere, while the human spirit was being reverse-engineered as software.
As Transhumanism clashed with orthodoxy and the Anthroclasm began to manifest across the globe throughout the Fifties, beginning with the First World Riot and culminating in the Moon Exodus, the early Noösphere hid the upheaval and atrocities of the Anthroclasm from those virtually-fortified few in the First World who were already becoming inextricably entertained by the unreal and were already on the path to becoming the cells of the gradually-coalescing first metaminds. Through his activism with One Love, Sings to Crows found common interest between the information streams of the emerging metaminds, the Transhumanists on the Moon and the riotous masses of the Anthroclasm, eventually building common understandings of Panhumanity that many feel kept the metaminds from carrying out their proposed plan to phase out biological reproduction everywhere. Nearly three decades later, during the Intercalary Period of the Evolutionary War, Sings to Crows completed his work in legal identity theory with the Edict of Freewill and Individuation, which set a framework for the birth of the Free Noösphere, still considered by many among the Transhumanists to be Humanity’s greatest achievement yet.
It was in this context of post-Anthroclasm, post-Moon Exodus America that Sings to Crows won an unlikely victory over Sea of Cortez Governor Pearl Azulli to become America’s fifty-seventh President. Initially unpopular with both the conservative Flesher constituency and the hovering, leering new metaminds, Sings to Crows gradually endeared himself to the widely-varied populace of his country, eventually generating enough political capital to allow what he dubbed the Grand Gesture - a complete scuttling of America’s physical-world military complex, which would eventually lead to the altogether dissolution of Industrial-era physical militaries throughout Earth and the Solar System. Though his administration was largely otherwise unsuccessful with the majority of its political endeavors, Sings to Crows put the entire weight of his personality behind the Grand Gesture, and it eventually changed the nature of Flesher life irrevocably.
Of course, by the time the Grand Gesture had come to fruition, long-cooking Transhumanist resentment at the Anthroclasm’s atrocities was already suggesting the imminent Evolutionary War, in which battle would move from Near-Earth Orbit to the DNAscape. Eventually Sings to Crows was forced to relocate with his family and closest advisors to the Moon, where he lived out his remaining years in relative peace and happiness, writing a number of philosophical treatises, as well as his Earth Tales series of allegorical fiction, during this period. From these Moon years came the ideological positions that would eventually cohere into his Edict of Freewill and Individuation, the most-seconded piece of Noösphere legislation in history and generally credited with having saved biological life from the reconstitution of all Solar System matter into computronium, which the majority of metaminds of the period were advocating. The ensuing establishment of the data realm known as the Free Noösphere, in which the majority of human entities now reside, can be directly linked to the Edict of Freewill and Individuation before it, and the end of the Evolutionary War immediately following.
Each of the first seven years of the Free Noösphere’s existence, Sings to Crows received a significant percentage of the votes for the position of Consul, despite being motherborn and never having experienced the Noösphere directly, let alone sought the office of Consul. In the seventh year he received a majority of votes and accepted, receiving a temporary neural cloud-connective nodule in order to process information at something closer to the Noösphere’s pace than his natural brain could allow. Once his year was complete, however, he had the nodule removed and never entered the Noösphere directly again, despite remarking often about the majesty of the experience. Indeed, Sings to Crows’ direct-experience accounts of the Noösphere helped foment the late Twenty-First Century Introdus movement.
His Holiness spent the waning forty-seven years of his body’s life with his family and friends at their modest home on the ridge of Aitken Crater, on the Moon, and traveling the Solar System to spread his optimistic, panhuman message of happiness and plurality.
At the time of his bodily death, one cannot help but remember his departure speech from his Consulship, which he ended with the sentence, “I will do what I can to be reborn next as pure thought, pure being, in the Free Noösphere.” While the Scientific Community metamind is vocally doubtful of the possibility that a spiritual being might manifest orphanogenetically into the Noösphere, Sings to Crows’ intent has proven to go a long way toward realizing that which had previously seemed would require a miracle.
Humanity remains hopeful that somehow we will see this soul again. ―George Dalphin
TEARS AND BLOOD AND JOY
I knew that getting my book published would change my life, but I didn't know in what way.
The first thing that hit me was a bad case of vertigo and nausea as soon as TreasureLine wanted Darkspell, my YA paranormal romance novel. I slammed the panic button and requested some more time before I sent it. I'm one lucky gal because my publisher is a real sweetheart. She consented and I deleted about 8,000 words; that's about 6 hours worth of writing gone.
As a writer, you never know when that agent/publisher will say yes. Your manuscript must be ready to the very minute!
I've always wanted to do my own chapter illustrations, but had forgotten all about it after I sent my baby off for editing. I emailed my publisher and asked her what she thought if I illustrated each chapter. She said it was a great idea if I wanted to do that. Over the course of a week and 117 hours worth of time, I completed 39 illustrations.
After a long nail-biting wait, the editor sent a marked up Darkspell for me to work on. When I was done, I had to wait for another long period of time. What to do now? After working day in and day out nonstop for a few months for Darkspell's perfection, this sudden bout of nothingness left me feeling out of place.
Then the thought hit me. Marketing. I could start marketing my book. I hunted down an author pal of mine and asked him how he handled pre-ordering. I tinkered with PayPal and slowly updated my website.
Is your head spinning yet?
There's so much work involved in getting a book published, but one thing's for sure, I couldn't have done all this without the moral support of other writers! Not only that, but I have the joy of knowing that I've finally reached my life's dream.
Would you like for me to share something fun?
From the author's portfolio, never before seen footage: ―Elizabeth Mueller
THE GIFT OF READING
The holidays are almost upon us and that can only mean one thing – shopping! Ahem, I mean gift giving and good cheer, of course. That being said, I have two book gift stories about Christmas.
One, is a gift I gave. It was to my then very young cousin, Lauren. One Christmas, I gave her a book I really enjoyed when I was her age - Lucy Maude Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. I didn’t know it then, but I was passing on the reading bug because she tore through the first book and told her dad she needed to get the second, then the third, and really, the whole series. Lauren’s been on a reading spree ever since and that gift started it all. Who knew? Not me. I just wanted to share a book I loved as a little girl.
Another, is a gift I received. A few years ago, I received Eragon and Eldest by Christopher Paolini for Christmas from a boyfriend. I was interested in reading them, but truthfully thought he’d enjoy them more. What happened is that we both loved the books and it was the first time that I had ever had that sort of reading sharing with a boyfriend – that connection of reading and loving the same books, with someone I loved dearly. Wow. Sexy. But, more importantly, I heard Paolini’s story about becoming a writer and a spark was born in my mind – maybe one did not have to go the traditional publishing route to be a successful writer as long as you had a great story to tell…
Maybe one of the gifts you give this holiday season will make an impact on a person you care about. Hey, if you’re at a loss, a book is always a good gift! I know it’s my gift of choice – both to give and to receive.
Luckily, I’m almost done with shopping which means: back to writing for me! If you’re a fan of my books, I’m working on editing a Kait Lenox Chick Lit Mystery - Funeral Crashing #2: Adventures of a Graveyard Girl. Look out for it at the beginning of 2012. Kait is back and she’s going to Homecoming with the hottest guy in school, Ethan Ripley – the perfect setting for romance…and murder. And, I’m about half way through writing a new book - a Sci-Fi Chick Lit called The Doppelgangers. Citrus is having a rough morning – she’s late to school, she runs into the girl she hates in the principal’s office (mostly because that girl loves to call her Orange!), and when Citrus finally gets to class she learns that she’s already there. Wait. What? A Doppelganger has taken over her life. Dun, dun, dun.
Happy reading…and shopping and most of all, happy holidays! ―Milda Harris
THE GIVEAWAYS
1 Winner will receive one Signed copy of Tiger's Voyage by Colleen Houck along with one Ren Art Bookmark.
1 Winner will receive one Signed copy of Tiger's Curse by Colleen Houck along with one Ren Art Bookmark.
1 Winners will receive one copy of Tiger's Voyage by Colleen Houck along with one Ren Art Bookmark.
2 Winners will receive one Art Postcard & Bookmark by James Vallesteros.
1 Winner will receive one ARC copy of Angel Fire by L.A. Weatherlyalong with one Willow Fields Art Bookmark by James Vallesteros and one Angel Burn Tote Bag.
2 Winners will receive one Willow Fields Art Bookmarks by James Vallesteros.
1 Winner will receive one copy of Possess by Gretchen McNeil along with one Signed Possess Bookmark, a Tattoo & a Bridget Art Bookmark by James Vallesteros.
2 Winners will receive one Bridget Art Bookmark & Bridget Postcard by James Vallesteros.
1 Winner will receive one copy of Cemetery Girl by David Bell.
1 Winner will receive one Limited Edition Poster made by the famous Hatch Show Print in Nashville.
1 Winner will receive one copy of Fury by Elizabeth Miles.
2 Winners will receive one e-book (any format) of Beatrice Munson by Lorena Bathey.
1 Winner will receive The Orchard Festival Photographs.
1 Winner will receive a Signed Copy of Swoon & Swear by Nina Malkin
1 Winner will receive a Signed (This can be Personalized) Copy of Always a Witch by Carolyn MacCullough.
1 Winner will receive one Audio Version of Once a Witch.
1 Winner will receive one Audio Copy of Always a Witch.
1 Winner will receive a Signed Copy of Possession by Elana Johnson, Signed Bookmark & 2 Tagged Stickers.
2 Winners will receive one Signed Bookmark by Elana Johnson & Tagged Stickers.
1 Winner will receive one Signed The Pledge Poster by Kimberly Derting, Signed Bookmark, Signed Passport and 2 Stickers
3 Winners will receive one Signed Bookmark by Kimberly Derting & Stickers.
1 Winner will receive one e-book of The Book of Messages by Mark David Gerson.
1 Winner will receive one e-book of Carnival of Fear by JG Faherty.
1 Winner will receive one e-book of Ghosts of Coronado Bay by JG Faherty.
1 Winner will receive one e-book of Through the Portal by Justin Dennis.
1 Winner will receive one e-book of The Demon Side by Heaven Liegh Eldeen.
1 Winner will receive one Signed Paperback Copy of Silverbirch by Rob Kaay.
1 winner will receive Save the Pearls Part One, Revealing Eden by Victoria Foyt, Signed poster & Save the Pearls Bracelet.
1 winner will receive Exclusive Riyria Revelations T-shirt (Sizes available L and XL).
2 winners will receive the best of album, The Invisible Truth by George Dalphin.
1 winner will receive one e-book of Darkspell by Elizabeth Mueller.
2 winners will receive one e-book Copy of the Adventures in Funeral Crashing by Milda Harris.
4 Winners will receive one Jace & Clary Art Bookmarks by James Vallesteros.
4 Winners will receive one Isabelle Lightwood Art Bookmarks by James Vallesteros.
4 Winners will receive one Simon Lewis Art Bookmarks by James Vallesteros.
1 Winner will receive Deadly Cool Trading Cards by Gemma Halliday.
4 Winners will receive Signed Faerie Ring Bookmarks by Kiki Hamilton.
Good Luck Everyone! There's a lot of Amazing Prizes to be won.
Please follow all Rules to Qualify!
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