It’s Alive! Legends of Windemere: Sleeper of the Wildwood Fugue LIVE on Amazon Kindle!

Mazel Tov to Episode 9’s guest on *CHANGES* conversations between authors, Charles Yallowitz, for his latest release!
Watch conversations with my previous *CHANGES* guests any time: Learn more about and get yourself or recommend someone to be scheduled as a guest:

The Perils of Potion Making

THIS was posted by my upcoming guest, puzzle-maker and author, Debbie Manber Kupfer, on 4/15/15’s Episode 27 of *CHANGES* conversations between authors, Wed., 10 – 11 AM EDT USA! Join us on Google+ or Youtube.
Watch conversations with my previous *CHANGES* guests any time: Learn more about and get yourself or recommend someone to be scheduled as a guest: *CHANGES* G+ HOA



Camp NaNoWriMo is upon us and this month I’m determined to finish the first draft of P.A.W.S. 3. I was delighted a couple of days ago when an old friend reappeared in my story. Like with children if you’re a writer you’re not supposed to have favorites, but yet we all do, and one of mine is the old Welsh magician Gromer the Green.

So, here’s a sneak peak snippet from P.A.W.S. 3. Enjoy!

It took three days for Max and Gromer to gather the ingredients. The bogwump toenails were particularly challenging. They hunted the creature down to a dank cave about five miles away from Gromer’s castle. They watched him prepare for bed, combing his shaggy green locks, brushing his pointy blue teeth and finally laying down on his bed under an enormous blanket with pictures of gnomes on the side. But he couldn’t sleep, he toss and turned…

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The Quiet One, Guest Post by Tonya R. Moore

I am delighted to offer this elegant, fascinating post by CHANGES guest (Episode 5; see below) and speculative fiction author, Tonya R. Moore, today! Enjoy!

The Quiet One
Guest Post by Tonya R. Moore

I remember sitting on my uncle’s verandah as a kid, watching Star Trek through the living room’s glass-paned window. I remember the voice of Captain Jean Luc Picard speaking of “exploring strange, new worlds and seeking out new civilizations, of boldly going where no one has gone before.”

Hearing those words for the very first time, I was electrified.

I was somewhere between eight and ten years old that day I first fell truly, madly and deeply in love with sci-fi.

I remember nighttime stories of the rolling calf, river mummas and duppies, especially some woman named Shirley’s duppy. I remember the lore and superstition that gave me curious thrills of fear and sent chills running down my spine.

I myself have had a supernatural “encounter” or two of my own…like those times I would hear someone call my name when there was no one else there. Like that time I thought I was being chased by a rolling calf.

Hearing and sharing these tales gave rise to my love of horror fiction.

I remember a land of twisted rivers, seething hills, lush valleys and the gloriously salty sea air–—the breathtaking island of Jamaica, where I was raised.


I was a lonely child, uncommonly quiet at times. I was treated unkindly because of that silence, accused of being “sneaky” and “devious” by the adults around me. The ominous words “silent rivers run deep” were often thrown my way. This used to confuse me because I didn’t think I was being quiet.

After all, it was never quiet inside my head.

I remember reading Ray Bradbury for the very first time. The story was “All Summer in a Day” and I cried because I thought I was very much like Margot, treated like a weirdo and subjected to the casual cruelty of other children.

Years later, when I read “The Foghorn” my breath was taken away. My god: was it really possible to put that into words? That desperate, endless yearning?

It was then that I realized that I’d found in writers, like Bradbury, McCaffrey, Asimov and Niven, kindred spirits of some kind.

It was then that I started dreaming of writing a story, a story that had not yet been told, a story that would let some other child realize that there was nothing under the sun or beyond that couldn’t be put into words.

When I sleep, I dream in sci-fi and horror. I dream of monsters and invading aliens. I dream of chasing and being chased. The flotsam and jetsam of my childhood are always interwoven within the fabric of my most fantastic nightmares.

In my dreams, I speed along the gnarly roads I once travelled in Jamaica. I smell the cereus that bloomed at night in my uncle’s garden and the cool moss and dark greenery of Fern Gully. I grow drunk on the deep, mysterious scent of the earth and sounds of this one winding river that always follows me in my dreams.

Somewhere along the line, my love of reading, dreaming and writing had collided with my love of science-fiction and horror. Now, bits and pieces of my dreams and the vaguely remembered lore from my childhood spill from my fingers onto the page.

In the middle of the night, I wake up from terrible nightmares eagerly reaching for a pen.

My name is Tonya Regina Moore. I am a lonely speculative fiction writer, uncommonly quiet at times. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m sometimes regarded as strange by others. I believe silent rivers do run deep but believe me, there’s nothing quiet about me.

It is never quiet inside my head.

About Tonya R. Moore

Tonya R Moore
Tonya R. Moore is a speculative fiction writer and Public Safety professional from Sarasota, Florida. She writes science fiction, urban literature and horror stories, some of which have been published in various magazines and anthologies. Tonya hails from on the island of Jamaica. She has lived in the United States of America since 1998. She enjoys speculative fiction books and film, as well as anime and manga.

Twitter: @genrelove

AND, if you’d like to get to know this “quiet” author better, please watch our excellent conversation on CHANGES, Episode 5, on Youtube: