Join me today in welcoming Angela Myron! Angela has a new book out called, Ennara and the Fallen Druid. Before we get to those details (and tell you about her prizes), I’ve asked Angela to share a summer memory with us! So, here’s Angela with her fishing story!
Fishing with Dad
I grew up in the seventies and eighties in small-town British Columbia. We lived in a mountainous area outside of a little town on the shores of Lake Okanagan. My summers as a child were idyllic.
The air was clean, the lake unpolluted. The valley was green with orchards. We got sunburnt and freckled while our older sisters lay in the sun with tanning oil smeared over their bellies, arms, and legs. We kids were roamed free, exploring railroad tracks, hidden coves, streams, and fields.
I remember one day in particular. I still had my old bike with the banana seat, which means I was probably between the third and fourth grade. I’d just turned nine.
It was a sunny day and I had no plans. Swim lessons had either not yet started or had finished. My mother was weeding the garden when I told her I was going for a bike ride.
I pedaled up the gravel to the paved road that led to town. It was a beautiful day. A light breeze cooled the air and the birds sang. I thought how nice it would be to be fishing on the lake with my dad. Then, in that stunning way children make leaps of reasoning, I decided I would ride to my dad’s shop and ask him to take me fishing. Ride to the city, sixteen miles away, half of that distance on a busy, two-lane highway. And of course, I wasn’t wearing a helmet. Nobody wore bike helmets back then.
I actually made it pretty far, which was the problem entirely. After ten miles on that little banana seat, I’d passed the country roads, gone through town, and started on the highway. I’d gone too far to turn back. But I still had a long way to go. I needed to stop. I was on a long hill. Cars and curious glances sped past.
I gently increased pressure on my foot brakes and glided to a stop. I turned around and walked back uphill to the last street I’d passed. My aunt and cousins lived nearby. I would go to their house. I started riding up a side street that I was only vaguely familiar with.
Not long after, the road branched. Auntie Dona lived on the other side of the hill, not down to the left or up to the right. I went right—at least that was the direction of town.
I pushed that bike forever. Or at least, it seemed that way. The hill kept going up, and I didn’t recognize anything around me. Paved road turned to gravel. Just around the next corner, I told myself several times, I’ll recognize something. The sun was hot, and I was thirsty. I was lost and exhausted. I sat down and started to cry.
After several minutes, I understood that Mom and Dad weren’t going to magically appear and take me home. They had no idea where I was. The road was deserted. No friendly stranger was going to offer me a ride. I got up and started pushing my bike again, desperate to find something familiar.
Then, something extraordinary happened. I prayed. It wasn’t the first time I prayed, but it was probably the first time I felt truly lost, truly in need, and poured my heart out in prayer. As I touched that deepest part of my soul, I crested a hill. Below me was Apple Valley. I could see my aunt’s home.
I pedaled as fast as I could to her door. I remember the surprise on her face at seeing me turn up. She called Mom, whom I don’t think had noticed I’d been gone. That night when I told Dad I’d tried to go visit him, he’d said it was a good thing I didn’t make it to the shop—he’d gone fishing with his buddies.
If you ask my family about it, no-one would remember the day I decided to go fishing with Dad. But for me, it is a day I’ll never forget, the first day I felt God had answered my prayers.
Thank you, Angela for sharing your memories. We’re celebrating Angela’s new release Enarra and The Fallen Druid today. Here’s a blurb to get us started:
Eleven year-old Ennara Gaern has a serious grudge against the dragon on her right hand.
Born with a caul—a mask that foretold magical powers—she was immediately inked with the fiendish, fire-breathing tattoo that forces her to study boring texts, cover her hand continuously, and worst of all, keeps her from visiting the beautiful capital city, Dordonne. But her quiet life changes when one night she is attacked by a shadowy demon.
Tork, an old friend and wizard, is enlisted to help. But when he arrives, he informs Ennara’s parents that she is her world’s only hope of finding the legendary Sword of Gisilfrid, which is needed to destroy the curse that is creating the demons. Ennara doesn’t want to leave on the dangerous quest, but when she learns the curse threatens her world, she reluctantly agrees.
Ennara and the wizard begin a perilous journey to the Sunken City, pitting them against dangerous oceans and pirates intent on claiming Ennara’s magic as their own. With only her friends at her side, including the intelligent, aquatic cat Smoos, Ennara must defeat monsters guarding the sword and servants of the Fallen Druid. When her world is covered in darkness, will she know how to dispel the curse?
A twig snapped. A damp chill surrounded Ennara, picking up goose bumps on her arms. The girl hugged herself and stomped her feet to fend off the cold. Why couldn’t the cow make things easy for her tonight?
She took a tentative step between two wild rosebushes. The sun slowly sank toward the distant hills across Lake Coeur. If she hadn’t stayed so late fishing at the docks with Kithe, she’d be home by now, cow tucked safely in the well-lit barn.
Ennara glanced around the gloomy forest. Long shadows stretched across the pasture between her and the farmhouse. She shivered. Her father, Lir, had warned her to bring Misty back before sunset. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she didn’t want to meet one of the monsters stalking around at night that Kithe told her about.
She heard the familiar clang of the cow’s bell and called again, stepping near the sound. Trees blocked her view. She peered between them, trying to catch a glimpse of the exasperating bovine.
The life-filled woods departed as the last rays of light slipped behind the hills, leaving a hollow version of its higher self. The girl shivered a second time and rubbed her arms.
The bell sounded once more. Ennara jumped and spun around. She ran a few steps in the direction of the sound, further into the trees.
Through the approaching dusk, she caught a glimpse of metal. There it was—the cow’s bell and collar hung on the limb of a young cottonwood. How had Misty managed to get it off? Confused, the girl stepped toward the bell.
Behind her, a twig snapped. She froze. She turned to see a tall shadow flitting among the trees. Her heart fluttered as she backed away.
“M … misty?” she whispered.
Like many writers, I have a full life in which I juggle many duties and joys. I love to cook, garden, and play with my twins. As a mother to toddlers, I write whenever I am not helping them navigate their day–which typically means in the early mornings and early afternoons when they sleep, and sometimes when Grandma comes to visit.
I was twenty-two when writing became a passion of mine. I’ve been doing it in one form or another ever since. But it took me a very long time to follow my heart’s desire to tell stories.
For years, I simply journaled. I delved into writing articles for newsletters and grant proposals. I settled into technical writing, often finding myself a one-person writing, editing, design, app development, and publication team. I learned the basics of journalism, and finally, when on maternity leave with my twins, I turned to writing fiction.
I am grateful for every reader I have. Writing can be a solitary pursuit, but it can also be a dialog, a meeting of the minds. I invite you to connect with me:
Join my street team! Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org to subscribe to my newsletters.
WIN a PRIZE
Angela will be awarding a wall calendar print from http://www.cafepress.com/ennaraswag to a randomly drawn commenter during each week on the tour. (Items can be exchanged for other equal or lesser value items from Ennara Swag on Cafepress), and she will award a t-shirt from http://www.cafepress.com/ennaraswag to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour (US ONLY).
I love it when my readers get the prize! 😀
Thank you, Angela Myron, for being my guest today.
And as always, readers, thanks for stopping by.
P.S. If you haven’t joined my blog mailing list, just enter your address in the box in the upper right hand column! (And welcome!!)