The rest of the Story

I first got the idea for Veiled while reading the scriptures one morning. Yea... I know it sounds very churchy, but it's the truth, so...there.
I was in fact reading about pre-mortal life, something that us LDS (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) people believe in.

I wondered what it was like, to be there in the Spirit World, waiting for our chance to live. I wondered how we might have felt at the thought of crossing the veil and forgetting all we knew. All our loved ones, all our knowledge, all about God and Heaven....

That's when I saw them. The two main characters standing before this great mass of whiteness (made that up, no one knows what the veil looks like). They were holding hands, they loved each other, they wanted to be together but they knew that as soon as they stepped through they would be born into this life and forget!
They were looking at each other for the last time, wracking their brains trying to figure out how they were going to remember...

From that moment on the story spilled out. It was like I had just turned on the faucet full blast, and I only had a teaspoon to fill my bucket. I immediately wrote the last chapter of my book by hand.

I set up a schedule for writing, because I have a life--a very full life, complete with three homeschooled children and a husband. I only wrote for two hours a day, at first during nap time. When that was done away with, and I grieved its loss, I started waking up two hours earlier--not an easy task for me.
When the story was done, I started learning about the publishing industry.

Fortunately for me, my great friend Naomi Delatorre--also a writer and a blogger (www.organicmotherhoodwithcoolwhip) and a homeschooler--patched me through a blogger friend of hers. Swatti had just recently been picked up by a publishing house www.TreasureLineBooks.com , and was kind enough to introduce me.

So that--my friends--is the rest of the story.

I skipped a lot of parts, like the many friends and family members who kindly read my manuscript and still are reading it, so it could be the best.
So thanks Mom, Naomi, Jen McG., Erin C., Allison B., Allison N., Lexi M., Brigitte H.(I hope you guys read my book for book club--I'll host!), both my brothers and the girls (Ally H., Isabelle M. and Stephanie W.) who participated in my target audience experiment. And of course to my hubby, who is my rudder,the one who steers me in the right direction and slows me down (in a good way).

There is parallel part to this story as well, but I'll save that for another entry.

Thank you! Thank you! for your warm congratulatroy facebook comments, they mean a lot to me! And thank you Linda Boulanger for picking me up!

Edited Part III

After the whole camp was up, dressed, and fed they mounted their horses and set off to meet the Dauphin.

I kept a sharp lookout for those around her that might show the slightest sign of treachery. But I didn’t sense anything, not until we got to our destination. The Dauphin, was surrounded by the type of people who said one thing, but thought quite another.

After some waiting, Joan at last was invited in to see the Dauphin—having been warned beforehand by Valerie that a trick would be played on her—Joan was ready for anything.

Sitting on a throne at the end of the room was a man, I quickly discerned his thoughts, and knew that he was deceiving her. In fact all those present were draped in the same aura of deceit.

Most of them hid their thoughts quite well, and some of them were giddy with the fun of the trick and their thoughts were easy enough to discern.

“Joan” I whispered in her ear as she entered the room. “The man sitting on that throne is not the Prince you are looking for. The real Dauphin hides in the crowd.” I told her and she set out to look for the man through the crowd. But she had never known or seen this Dauphin, so it was up to me to guide her through the sea of strange faces.

Hidden in the shadows I saw a man, who was dressed as any other man in the group, but this man’s thoughts were racing, he seemed nervous and had a shroud of pride around his aura. He caught my interest so I waited, then a thought escaped him and I caught it.

“What? She does not go straight to the throne? She has never seen me, how could she know?” He thought, as he retreated further into the shadows.

“Here!” I shouted to Joan, who immediately turned toward the sound of my voice.

“Your Dauphin is dressed as a common man, and he stands here.” I pointed to the man.

She cut through the crowd deliberately now, making a straight line for the spot where I hovered over the prince. He looked ashen and beads of perspiration were forming on his forehead.

Joan's eyes were riveted on the man I was pointing to her, and made no sound as she bowed to him. Gasps were heard throughout the room, the Dauphin himself stood frozen with his mouth agape.

There was complete silence for a moment, “I’m at your service.” She humbly said to her prince.

“How did you know…?” The dauphin could not finish. She made no reply, she feared being miss-interpreted.

The crowd gathered around her and the Dauphin helped her to her feet.

“Well done Tess!” Valerie exulted as she flew to my side. “I knew you could do it!”

“I'm afraid that this test was easy. In fact, I'm pretty sure that this has sealed her fate." I whispered to Valerie, for fear that Joan might hear me. "This miraculous display, may have won her the support of some, but it has also stirred the jealousies of others."

Sarah Brightman's Album cover

I often listen to www.pandora.com ,it's an online free radio that plays the music you like. I draw a lot of my inspiration for my writing from Celtic music. My personal favorites are Hayley Westerna (I uploaded one of her songs in one of my earlier posts) and Lorena McKennitt. Lots of other artists pop up as well when you listen to Pandora radio, so that's when I saw this. I first approached the computer because I liked her singing, and I wanted to see who was singing. Then I saw the cover! I loved it! If I could choose a cover for my book today it would be this one. There are only a few things I would change about this, her tiara, I would make that to look more like an aura...not a halo, an aura--brightness emanating from her.

I have other ideas as well, but this has my favorite colors and is so beautiful... like her singing!

Edited Part II

Joan was a sweet and mild mannered girl who had been chosen by the Eternals to free her people. This mission she accepted before she was born, and now she had to accomplish it. She had the added benefit of her gift that allowed her to see and speak with angels. All this she took in stride, while carefully managing a whole army of rough grown men.

Once the introductions were made, Joan excused herself and went back to her training. Valerie and I looked after her with awe.

“…Half the people she meets think she is crazy, and the other half believe her and follow her. It’s amazing Tess, to see how quickly mortals forget about our side of the Veil.” Valerie said, half musing to herself.

“That’s the whole purpose of the veil—to forget.” I said with a tinge of bitterness. I dreaded the veil and its consequences; I hated the thought of losing all my memories of heaven, of friends and more importantly, Alex.

“I know that” Valerie said reproachfully, “but some people seem to retain a certain… memory or imprint of what was, while others fear it and reject it completely. I wonder why?” Valerie said absentmindedly. “It wasn’t so long ago that we were all together.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand, signaling to all the mortals that surrounded us.

“I can tell this mission has given you a lot to think about.” I told her.

“Yes, it has. Listen Tess, tomorrow she will go before the Dauphin—a prince of sorts—she needs his permission to lead his armies, even though she’s been doing it for a while already.” Valerie rolled her eyes. I could tell she didn’t think too highly of this Dauphin. “In my vision I saw him being persuaded to trick her somehow, I don’t know how exactly, but whatever it is, it’s supposed to expose her as a fraud. You see, she has a reputation as someone who receives Heavenly help, and there are those who are jealous of this, they are the ones who want her to fail.”

“I’ll do my best Val, I promise.” I said, hoping that all my training and all those Gifts classes would pay off.

Valerie and I watched as evening turned into night, and all the mortals fell asleep. Hovering over Joan’s bed I studied her face. She rested peacefully, but I could tell that her mind was burdened.

Now that she was asleep, her unconscious thoughts came to me freely. She didn’t like the life of a soldier, but this was her mission; she had accepted it before she was born and now she was going to see it through.

I couldn’t help wonder what I would be asked to do. What mission would I be entrusted with? Would I embrace it like Joan or ignore it, like so many other mortals do? Was I strong enough to see whatever the Eternals asked of me through?

Edited Part I

This is a portion of my manuscript that I cut out. I thought it would be fun for you guys to read it anyway.
The main character, Tess is an angel who just got sent on a Ministering Mission to Earth. She will be working with one of her friends Valerie, who has been assigned as the mortals Guardian Angel.


To my surprise I found Valerie, protectively hovering near the spirit I had come to see. I discerned Valerie's mood, it was somber—not unusual for her—but this time it was founded on real worry over the human that she stood next to.

“She is surrounded by traitors!” Valerie came to my side in flurry of emotions. "Even her own people are trying to sell her out!” She exclaimed with horror and collapsed with relief in my outstretched arms.

“Who are you talking about?” I asked while I patted her back.

“My mortal, Joan.” She said as she moved back in shock at my lack of knowledge.

“Your mortal?”

“You know what I mean! I am her Guardian Angel, I consider her my mortal.” She shrugged. “So what brings you here? I thought you were training with that Seraph?”

“Dayspring? ...Yea I was, but now I am here as a Ministering Angel—to her.” I pointed at her mortal.

“Oh… well, she gets lots of visitors from our side.” She said in a huff. “She has the Gift of Beholding Spirits, so she sees us all—and hears us too.”

“Wow… that's amazing. If she sees all of us, does she ever get mortals and spirits confused?”

“No!” Valerie said with a look of disgust. “We are see-through, and we wear white robes!”

I laughed.

“I’m really glad they sent someone I know." Valerie said as she gave me a friendly shove on the shoulder. "It can get kind of lonesome sometimes. I haven’t seen Dane in… a few centuries.”

“Sorry" I said understanding her plight, "I rarely get to see Alex anymore." I told her, but Valerie didn't seem to be paying any attention to me anymore. Her features looked frozen and her eyes were glazed over.

"Val? Are you..."

She shook her head and snapped out of her trance.

"She's in trouble--again!"

"Who?"

"Joan, my mortal. She'll be betrayed tomorrow, she is walking into a trap!"

"A trap? What do you mean?"

"Did I tell you how happy I am They sent you Tess." She said again, but with a new kind of meaning. "We really need a discerner, especially tomorrow." Valerie said as she looked back at Joan.

In the distance I could see Joan. She couldn't have been older than eighteen, she looked weary, determined and oddly out of place in what looked like a military training ground.

Out of breath she rested her hands on her knees and turned her head toward us. She looked straight at us and squinted a little when her eyes focused on my form.
She excused herself from the training and came toward us. Valerie exchanged looks with her and told me to follow her into a nearby tent.

"Tess, this is Joan. She's the leader of the French army."

Creating... me.

Our True Identity

So many of the desions we make are hinged on how we view ourselves. We think we are a certain way, therefore we must act the part--much like in a play.

But who are we really?

There is a quote that I came across when I was 22 yrs. old, I can't remember where I read it, or who said it...but it has stuck with me and has changed the way I see myself and my life.

"Life is not about FINDING yourself, its about CREATING yourself."

I always thought I had to find myself, by experiencing things, life... . But I soon found that some of those experiences left me empty, hollow and unrecognizable even to myself. This quote helped me realize that those experiences were creating something else, someone I didn't know.

So I set to work at creating the person I wanted to be. Then, I found myself again--it was me all along who I wanted to be.

It was in finding myself that I lost myself. It was in loosing myslef to creating, through service, that I found myself again.

Novela Watching Grandma Who Fortells the Future

You could say that I am a little obsessed by the supernatural, I can’t help it. You see, it runs in my family.

She runs down a deserted beach, the sun setting on the horizon. She looks back, her dark long hair gets tangled around her face and she stumbles. Driven by some unseen force she gets up again and on shaky legs takes to running again—she is begins to cry and wipes her tears with the back of her hand.
In the distance, his horse kicks up a cloud of sand, and in no time catches up to her. She looks back and stumbles again. In one flawless move he dismounts and catches her. She beats her fists against his bare chest; he draws her to him and kisses her. She slaps him and shouts something in that passionate language—Spanish. He smiles that crooked smoldering smile… she relents… [we sigh] they kiss and kiss some more.

“I wish I spoke Spanish.” You may say still riveted to the screen. “I wonder what she was so mad about?” You sit down, still watching—you are sucked in—just like my grandma.

My Spanish grandmother spent her time doing two things…well three—she did two of them at the same time. She could tell the future and she watched novelas while she embroidered—the latter being an excuse to do the watching. I used to think she was weird and boring, but time has given me the opportunity to appreciate her life. In fact the older I get the more appreciative I am of her quirky influence. For one, I still have a table cloth that she embroidered and every time I pull it out, I wonder "how many hours of novela watching did this take?" The other thing I have grown to appreciate is her ability as a foreteller.
I still remember her bending over me, declaring certain things about my future…things that came true. I know what you are thinking, “Novela watching grandmothers can’t tell the future.”

Well… mine could. One of the times that stands out the most in my memory, happened on a stormy afternoon in Buenos Aires, where I grew up. She was visiting with us for a few weeks, my brother had invited his girlfriend to dinner and she lived in the other end of the City. He was anxious, because she was taking way too long, and in that pre-cell phone era, all you could do was sit and wait and bite your nails. She was in fact two hours overdue.

My brother paced in front of the window, lightning and thunder echoed through our house. My grandmother, more like a fixture than a member of this solemn group, embroidered in one corner of the room; lit by a single lamp.

My parents tried to offer hope, but my brother was full of reproach for himself, for not meeting her at the train station.

“She’ll be here soon.” My grandmother declared from her corner.
No one turned or said anything.

“…And she’ll be wearing something pink.” She added.

We turned and looked at her, half mystified, half believing. Not five minutes later the doorbell rings and my brother opens it. There, underneath those see through extra curvy umbrellas, was his girlfriend—wearing the only pink thing she owned in the world.

My grandmother had never met her, or talked to her. She didn’t know that my brother’s girlfriend disliked pink, and that this sweater was the only one she had.

My foretelling grandmother had a gift. She was wrong about a lot of things, but never about the future as she saw it through her gift.
Some say that these gifts get passed down, generation to generation…and they have.