Books for kids, teens, & those who are young at heart

Author: Katie L. Carroll (Page 56 of 142)

Hello, My Name is Katie, and I’m a Millennial

I say this as if it’s the first step in 12-step program: admitting I have a problem. Namely that I am a Millennial. And I have been in denial for most of my life about being part of the much-discussed (and often maligned) generation.

When I heard that people born in my birth year are often considered the inaugural year of the Millennials, I was like, “No way. That must be wrong.” Yet it’s true that the early 1980s are the beginning of the generation, with 1982 being specifically designated because it marked the class who would graduate from high school in the year 2000 (a fact that was shoved down our throats from when we first started elementary school).

Part of my shock stemmed from the fact that I’d heard so much about the Millennials that I just couldn’t relate to. They are entitled and narcissistic. They can’t handle the real, adult world because they were raised by “helicopter parents.” This upbringing means they can’t handle hearing the word “no,” can’t take any criticism, and that each one of them believes they are a special snowflake and should be treated as such by everyone (see the CBS story “The ‘Millennials’ Are Coming” that is rife with such, well frankly, insults).

This analysis made me cringe. So when I found out I was a Millennial, suddenly all of these really harsh criticisms were about me. And I just couldn’t identify with what was being said about my generation (turns out I’m not the only one…see the article “Most Millennials Resist the ‘Millennial’ Label” from the Pew Research Center).

I started working when I got a paper route at the age of 9. In high school, I made the honor roll every single quarter, I earned 12 varsity letters, I worked in a local hardware store, and volunteered at the hospital (not to mention that I hung out with my friends and had a pretty active social life). I worked my way through college and graduated Summa Cum Laude. And I can most assuredly tell you that none of that was “given” to me; it was all earned.

My life experience and outlook feels so far off from how the labels would paint me. I thought maybe that was because as far as Millennials go, I’m ancient. I’m three times older than the youngest Millennials. My 16-year-old nephew is part of the same generation, and while we have a similar sense of humor, we are miles apart in where we are in life, and my upbringing was very different.

I can remember a time before the Internet and personal computers. I was a rather late convert to getting a cell phone and social media (though they are now an integral part of my everyday life). So maybe I wasn’t a good representation of the generation. But then I started thinking about the other Millennials I know, and I found the characteristics that we’ve been pegged with didn’t match with the characteristics I was observing.

And here is where I think lies the problem: You can’t take an entire generation of people and try to boil them down to a handful of traits. Turns out a lot of these criticisms of Millennials are actually more representative of a certain socio-economic group (and even then I question how well the analysis holds water), and we are a whole lot more diverse than we’ve been labeled (see the article “The Millennial Muddle” by Eric Hoover).

The Millennials I know are tolerant and open-minded. We’ve played an important part in electing the first black president in the U.S. and in making same-sex marriage legal in the U.S. and beyond. We make our own definitions of happiness, wealth, family, hard work, and gender roles, among other things. It’s not the we don’t care about the ideals of former generations or that we don’t have respect for them; it’s just we don’t need to be defined by them.

We’re also the generation that is growing up in the shadow of 9/11. Most of us have entered (or will enter) the work force post the Great Recession. Those of us who have gone (or will go) to college are graduating with the highest levels of student loans ever, debt we’ll probably be paying back until our kids go to college (if they can afford it, which is unlikely as education costs continue to rise so drastically). Then we’re faced with a poor job market, and all the while everything costs more and our assets (like our homes) are worth less.

In a lot of ways we’ve been dealt a crappy hand, and, yeah, the world can feel like a scary, anxiety-inducing place. But we’re living in it and making the best of it, and I think as a generation, we are working to make the world a better place because I think we all deserve that.

Maybe that does make me entitled. But I’m not just going to sit around and wait for things to magically get better. I’m going to work every day at it…and I’m going to do it in my own way. Because I don’t need anyone else to tell me what makes for a meaningful life, while at the same time I recognize that others, from any generation, can certainly show me what that is.

So my fellow Millennials, I’m going to state here that I am proud to be a part of this generation. Let’s keep doing our thing and not freaking out about what boxes we’re put in by those who make a point of pigeonholing us and calling it research. Let’s live our lives with purpose and meaning, whatever that means to each of us.

Cover Reveal UNDER A PURPLE MOON by Beverly Stowe McClure

Happy Friday the 13! We’re lucky to have author extraordinaire Beverly Stowe McClure here to celebrate the gorgeous cover for upcoming YA novel UNDER A PURPLE MOON. Welcome, Beverly!

UnderaPurpleMoonbyBeverlyStoweMcClureUnder a Purple Moon

by Beverly Stowe McClure

No Love in the Garden of Eden…

Eden Rose has learned to deal with her mother’s criticism that she can do nothing right. What she can’t deal with are the arguments between her parents. To escape their angry words, she finds refuge in an old abandoned house. She always returns home, hoping her mother will love her one day, even though Eden’s not sure what the word love means.

Three other teens with problems also hang out at the Old House. Meeting Murphy, Toby, and Josh changes Eden’s world, and she begins to have faith in herself. Perhaps she can do something right, after all.

Thanks to the boys, she begins to understand the meaning of love. But will it be enough to save her broken home life?

Coming March 15, 2016!

About the Author:

Most of the time, you’ll find Beverly Stowe McClure at her computer, typing stories little voices whisper in her ears. When she’s not writing, she’s snapping pictures of wildlife, flowers and clouds. She’s sometimes known as the “Bug Lady.” She’s not telling why.

For more about Beverly, visit her at website.

November Ripples in the Inkwell: Where Did My Memory Go?

November’s Ink Ripples topic is remembrance/thankfulness, and I’m taking up the latter for my post this month. I have a really good memory, at least I did until I had kids. I had heard that being a mom messes with your ability to remember stuff, but man, I didn’t expect it to mess with me so badly.

I am now the type of person who needs to keep lists in order to remember anything, like anything at all. And all those precious moments of the kiddos that at the time I thought I could never, ever forget…yeah, if I don’t have a picture of it or if I didn’t write it down, it’s gone…forever!

I’m not sure what it is about motherhood that has fried my brain. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s because I primarily hang out with little ones who have the attention span of, well, a 1-year-old and a 4-year-old and it’s rubbing off on me. Maybe it’s that I’m now keeping track of two other people and have to remember all their stuff for them.

Did so-and-so go to the bathroom lately? Did we brush teeth this morning? Who needs to get dressed today (probably me!)? Is it bath night? Who has a doctor appointment this month? And now that The Boy is in school, there are a whole slew of other things to keep track of. Pretty much the only thing we never forget is eating. No one forgets to eat around here!

I’m told that eventually my brain will regain its former glory of being able to remember something for more than five seconds. I’m skeptical but hopeful…

Wait, what was I talking about again?

Inkwell meme greenHave you joined the #inkripples movement yet? Ripples in the Inkwell is a monthly meme created by Kai Strand, Mary Waibel, and Katie L. Carroll(me!). On the second Monday of each month, we post on a particular topic. The idea is that we toss a word, idea, or image into the inkwell and each post is a new ripple. There’s no wrong way to do it and we’d love for you to participate (full details here). Be sure to provide a link to your own #inkripple in the comments! Look for details on next year’s ink ripples topics in December!

CONVICTION by S. Usher Evans Book Blast

razia cover

Now available – Conviction, the third book in the Razia series! Catch up on this fun, sassy space opera about a wayward scientist living a double life as a space pirate bounty hunter.

Missed the first two? Pick them up on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Smashwords, and Kobo.

About Conviction:

Convictions_CoverClink.

Razia is in trouble. Captured by a fellow pirate, she now finds herself back on probation with a bounty worth zero credits. In the cold reality, she begins to question herself and everything she has been working towards all of her life–and what she’s willing to do to reclaim her glory.

Piracy is a game. What do you stand for?

Buy now on

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Conviction (Razia, #3)

Sneak Peek:

Razia’s eyes snapped open and she grasped at the wall to steady herself. She stood outside the supposed poker game location, in a dimly lit alley that smelled like trash. There was something wet leaking from the bin next to her, so she didn’t dare sit down. She had fallen asleep against the dirty brick wall for a split second, but was now wide awake and ready for Loeb to come out.

The door remained closed.

Poker, she reasoned, must be Loeb’s chosen vice because he’d been there playing this game for over an hour. She wondered how many times he’d have to go to Temple to ask the Great Creator for forgiveness for this break in his piety.

She snorted at her own joke then burped a little beer. She rubbed her face roughly, hoping the increased blood flow would wake her up. She wished she hadn’t had that that third beer (or however many she had from Sage’s pitcher) at Eamon’s, she wished she had some coffee, and she wished Loeb would just get a move on already. She had other pirates to capture, and he was being awfully selfish with her time.

She jutted her lip out and stared at the door, and her eyes began drooping again.

Her mini-computer began buzzing at her hip and she jumped ten feet. Scowling, she answered it without thinking.

“What.” She blinked at the face looking back at her and for a brief moment saw Vel. With another shake of her head she realized it was Heelin scowling back at her. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me.” Heelin looked nothing short of livid. “The brother with whom you are supposed to be working.”

She grimaced. “Oh God in Leveman’s, I don’t have time for this.”

“Well you’d better make time, because this stupid planet was approved for membership, so Dorst wants me to accompany you on your next excavation.”

Excavation, what was that again? She rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of the word. Slowly, her brain readjusted from a month of bounty hunting back to her life as Lyssa Peate.

Wait…Heelin wanted to go on an excavation with her? “I don’t think so.”

“I think that you have to since Dorst ordered you to.”

“I think that Dorst can get sucked.”

“What is with you lately? You look different.”

“I…what?” she said, looking down at the mini-computer.

“And where are you anyway? Are you in some kind of dark alley? Where are your glasses?”

Razia realized with a jolt of fear that she was, in fact, Razia and not Lyssa—her hair down, no lab coat, no glasses.

“Uh…gotta go!”

She ended the call quickly and breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t expect Heelin to recognize Razia from just a simple phone call. Unlike Lizbeth, who was sharp as a tack and made the connection almost immediately, the Peates seemed more eager to ignore that Lyssa ever existed.

Like Jukin.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, hating herself and her drunkenness for bringing him up. She still had no idea why she’d saved him. She’d told Lizbeth at the time it was because she wanted to believe he was a good person, but there was more to it than that. She was still harboring a little bit of guilt that she had been chosen as Sostas’ assistant, and not Jukin.

And perhaps she felt a little responsible for everything Jukin had done.

She belched loudly in the alleyway, ending the drunken philosophical train of thought. In some part of her mind, she wondered if it was a good idea to be out in her current state, but then again, she was simply stalking Loeb. He wasn’t going to surprise her and walk out…

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head as Jarvis Loeb exited the bar all by himself.

She braced herself against the wall, waiting to see if his body men were going to join him. Loeb got almost a block before she realized that he was alone. Whether this was some great twist of fate, or maybe some gift from the Great Creator, she didn’t know, but it was definitely an opportunity.

She nearly tripped over her own two feet as she barreled after him, the beer sloshing in her stomach uncomfortably.

“OI!” she called out, standing in the middle of the deserted street.

Loeb turned to watch her with an amused look on his face. “Hello there, dear. Are you here to capture me finally?”

“Sure am!” she announced, perhaps louder than she should have.

She walked up to Loeb, who seemed awfully sober to her, and she reared back her fist to strike him. But she was moving so slow—slower than ever—and Loeb easily ducked it. She lurched forward, her center of gravity completely off, and watched the pavement fly up towards her face.

Loeb’s hand clamped down on her wrist and she felt cold steel encircle it.

About the Author:

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 and Empath, both published by Sun’s Golden Ray Publishing.

Be sure to check her out on the below social media sites:

Website

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Finding Connection Through Grounding

I’m learning a lot about the earth through grounding myself, literally going out pretty much every day and putting my bare feet on the natural ground (for more about how and why I do this, check out my other grounding posts).

I’m getting a feel for the different seasons. The cool, wet soil of early spring, often still hard from the winter freeze. The gradual warming and thaw, the earth more forgiving as spring turns into summer. Then there’s the crunchy, dry heat of late summer grass under my feet, lingering into fall. Eventually autumn ushers in a brief reawakening of the earth. The grass turns green and springy, the warm soil forms to my feet. Then the leaves fall and the earth is crunchy on the surface. Finally winter brings the snow and ice, often I have to dig under the snow to find a small patch of hard, cold earth.

The earth is strangely similar feeling in winter and summer, not in temperature (obviously!), but there’s a hardness to both seasons. The freeze brings the hardness to winter, and the dryness brings it to summer.

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I’m also getting a feel for the time of day. I like to go out at different times during the seasons (though you won’t catch me grounding myself at night in the winter…I’m not that crazy!). Mornings are often wet with dew. There’s a quietness to the earth as it wakes. Midday groundings are usually quick, a quiet moment for me to let the tingles in my feet awaken and to take a few deep breaths before I get back to the business of the day. I don’t always have time to stop and think for too long about what I’m feeling.

I think I like twilight groundings the best, though it’s probably the time of day when I least often go out (it tends to be the busiest time of day with the family). I’ve always enjoyed the energy of twilight. The last burst of activity from the day animals, the night creatures starting to peek out of their daytime slumber. The sky is stuck between night and day, a lightness lingering in the east and the stars begin to shimmer. The earth is buzzing with all that has happened during the day but not ready to settle into night.

The quiet moment or two I take to ground myself not only connects me to the earth, it connects me to myself. I don’t need to think, I only need to remember to breathe as my feet touch the ground. I wait until the tingling starts, give it a minute to soak in. The longer it has been since my last grounding, the longer it takes to get that feeling but the greater the impact. Sometimes it’s good to skip a few days to regain the newness of grounding. But I never wait too long to get back out there and connect.

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