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Books for kids, teens, & those who are young at heart
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A week and a half later and I feel like I’m still catching up after the New England SCBWI Conference. I’m a little behind on my novel writing goals and I have a few deadlines for other projects creeping up, but the momentum of the writing conference usually keeps me going and focused on my writing goals for months.
One of my favorite things about writing conferences is catching up with old writing friends and meeting new ones. My roommate and I stayed up way too late chatting about writing and family and stuff. I almost literally bumped into a friend I met–well it has to be ten years ago now–at one of the many Poconos conferences I attended, and it was awesome to catch up with her. I squeezed in some writing time on Friday before my first workshop, I gathered with both old and new friends for dinner Saturday night, and I happened to wake up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep on Sunday morning, so I went for a run at the hotel fitness center. It all went by too fast, and I was so exhausted by the time I got home Sunday evening.
To keep the inspiration fresh I like to go through my notes from the conference (something I’ve been meaning to do with past conferences as well). So here are just a few of the words of wisdom I came across during the weekend (note that I don’t use quotation marks because these aren’t necessarily direct quotes, though I do my best to keep them as close as possible to what the speakers actually said and the sentiments are accurate):
Memories are a powerful force not only in our minds but in the world. They influence who we are as people, how we perceive the world, and what we learn. Memories keep our loved ones alive long after they have left this mortal world. They are our past, they inform our present, and they shape our future.
I recently read that scientists have discovered that memories can be inherited, passed down from one generation to the next, particularly from those who have faced trauma (see “Study of Holocaust Survivors Finds Trauma Passed on to Children’s Genes”). That means memories can change our DNA and in turn alter our children’s genes. This seems like a crazy idea straight out of a sci-fi book, but it’s not; it’s real. (See “Science Is Proving Some Memories Are Passed Down From Our Ancestors” and “Memories Can Be Inherited, and Scientists May Have Just Figured out How”.)
I wonder if that’s why when I talk with the boys about my sister Kylene, who died long before either of them were born, I get this uncanny feeling that they know exactly who I’m talking about, like they knew her. There is a solemness during these conversations. It may be that they’re feeding off of my emotions, but even that doesn’t feel like an adequate explanation.
The first time I had this sense of impossible knowledge on behalf of the boys, I thought I was reading too much into the situation (as I tend to do). But after I read that memories can be inherited, I realized there might be some truth to my intuition about my children and the auntie they never met. That somehow through my own trauma my boys have memories of my sister. Or maybe I’m deluding myself into thinking the impossible is possible.
How have your memories (or perhaps those of your parents) influenced your life?
#InkRipples is a monthly meme created by Katie L. Carroll, Mary Waibel, and Kai Strand. We pick a topic (May is all about memories), drop a ripple in the inkwell (i.e. write about it on our blogs), and see where the conversation goes. Be sure to check out Kai’s and Mary’s posts this month. We’d love to have you join in the conversation on your own blogs. Full details and each month’s topic can be found on my #InkRipples page.
While I’m off getting ready for the 2016 New England SCBWI conference, S. Usher Evans is here to entertain you all with her new release THE ISLAND, book one of the Madion War Trilogy. Welcome, S!
Prince Galian is third in line to the throne, but prefers his place as a resident at the Royal Kylaen Hospital. When his father urges him to join the military to help reclaim their colony, Galian is forced to put aside his oath to Do No Harm and fight a war he does not believe in.
Across the great Madion Sea, Captain Theo Kallistrate dreams of a day when she is no longer bound by conscription to fight for her country’s independence. But when the Kylaens threaten, honor and duty call her to the front lines to fight off the oppressors.
When an air skirmish goes wrong, both Theo and Galian crash on a remote island hundreds of miles from either nation. Grievously injured, Theo must rely on Galian’s medical expertise, and Galian must rely on Theo’s survival skills, to live another day in a harsh and unforgiving terrain.
Can they put aside their differences long enough to survive? Or will the war that brought them to the island tear them apart?
Buy The Island for eBook, Paperback, and Hardcover.

“Yep,” he observed, with a smirk on his face. Up close, he was every bit as handsome as I’d seen in pictures. “You definitely got what you deserved. Shouldn’t have shot at me.”
“You shouldn’t have invaded my country.”
His eyes widened for a moment and I thought I’d finally done something to wipe that smile off his face. To my supreme annoyance, he tilted his head back and let out a throaty laugh.
“Oh, you are witty,” he said, nodding. “And technically right. But it wasn’t my decision. I was, as they say, just following orders.”
“And I was just following orders when I blew you out of the sky.”
“Aren’t we at an impasse then?” He seemed to be enjoying this conversation. He looked down at the side of my ship and read the inscription. “Theo, huh? Well, you must be a pretty high ranking pilot then. I hear the Ravens only allow you to put your name on your ship after you’ve survived plenty of battles.”
I moved out of anger, but the pain in my legs came roaring up my body. “Please let me die in peace,” I asked, unable to look at him.
“Oh, you aren’t going to die today. But it would probably be safer if I pulled you out. I don’t like the look of that fuel leak.”
He leaned into my small cabin. If I’d had half a mind, I could’ve snapped his neck, but it was hard enough just to breathe. He found my seat strap and unhooked it, then lifted me out by my arms. I couldn’t help but scream.
“Yeow, buddy,” he said, stopping. He put one hand over his ear and muttered. “You sure got a girly scream.”
“My legs are caught. Just leave me here. I’m as good as dead anyway.”
“Naw, then who am I going to talk to while I wait to get picked up?” He sounded like he was waiting for dinner. “C’mon, we can get you out of here. Just take a deep breath. One…two…”
I didn’t hear him count to three as he yanked my legs out of the mess and I screamed again, the pain so bad I almost lost consciousness. But, blessedly, it subsided, and the next thing I knew, he was laying me on the ground.
“There, now, Theo of Raven, let’s take a look at you,” he said, taking my helmet off.

Theo was a girl.
A pretty girl.
I’d always thought Raven women were more interesting looking than Kylaen women—with their olive skin and black hair, they seemed to draw my attention. And this girl, something about her made my head spin.
Even with her mangled, bloody legs.
They were a sight: dark red staining her gray jumpsuit.
“Thank you, Dr. Maitland,” I said, cracking open the bag he’d given me and sliding on the pair of latex gloves.
She murmured something. The amount of blood she’d lost was a real concern, and she was most likely concussed. I would worry about the head injury later; it wouldn’t matter much if she died from blood loss.
“What are you doing?” she croaked.
“Pardon the invasion of privacy,” I said, flashing her my trademark smile.
I unzipped her jumpsuit and pulled it down, exposing a white bra and underwear and nothing else. Immediately, her skin puckered with goosebumps as I tossed away the soaked dark gray suit.
“Are you still with me, Theo?”
She blinked, but didn’t respond.
“Okay, I’m going to examine you now,” I said, leaning over her bare legs. I pressed my hands to her hips, and she reacted, swiftly, sitting up so fast she nearly whacked her forehead to mine.
“Get your filthy hands off of me,” she hissed, her breath touching my face.
S. Usher Evans is an author, blogger, and witty banter aficionado. Born in Pensacola, Florida, she left the sleepy town behind for the fast-paced world of Washington, D.C.. There, she somehow landed jobs with BBC, Discovery Channel, and National Geographic Television before finally settling into a “real job” as an IT consultant. After a quarter life crisis at age 27, she decided consulting was for the birds and rekindled a childhood passion for writing novels. She sold everything she owned and moved back to Pensacola, where she currently resides with her two dogs, Zoe and Mr. Biscuit.
Evans is the author of the Razia series, Madion War Trilogy, and Empath, published by Sun’s Golden Ray Publishing.
Check her out on the below social medias:
Whenever I’m preparing to head off to a writing conference, I always find it fun and inspirational to look back on past conferences. I’m in kind of a discouraged state of mind about my writing. I’m waiting on one thing, I pulled another out of publication, and I have no major projects scheduled to be published right now. I’m trying not to focus on all the negatives in my writing career and instead plug away at my WIP, but I’ve got to admit I’ve been feeling a little low.
But I’m off to the 2016 New England SCBWI conference a week from Friday. I’m heading up early to get in some writing time before the conference starts that afternoon, and then I’ll be attending workshops, keynotes, and panels all weekend. And catching up with old writing buddies and hopefully meeting some new ones. Anyone else attending? Make sure to say “hi” if our paths cross. To keep us all inspired here are my conference gems from 2013 and 2015 NESCBWI conferences.
From 2013:
From 2015 (Wow! There are a lot here, but well worth the read.):
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