Viridia now has a front cover!
Did anyone guess that it would be green?
The following is the press release put out by the publisher.
A moving story of love and friendship
Seattle, WA: Cerulea, the newly released second installment of Veronica Tabares’ Behold the Eye trilogy, takes readers into ever more fantastic depths, daring to lift the veils between reality and illusion.
“Cerulea’s overwhelming message is clear – that hope is never lost,” says Tabares. “As with the first book of this trilogy, Braumaru, Cerulea is fantasy adventure that will appeal to readers of every age.”
Awaking in a strange world, Vickie struggles to understand what has happened to the world she once knew. Confused and lost, she is befriended by three companions who journey with her to the land of Cerulea, to find the secrets to help her return home.
Meanwhile, in the normal world, Vickie’s friends slowly piece together the evidence pointing to her vanishing and to the strange characters that may have some hand in her disappearance. But the power-hungry Roland, bent on using Vickie for his own sinister purposes, has other plans. Vickie must race to find her answers before Roland can realize his sinister scheme.
“Though the haze of sleep, dreams and imagination blur the boundaries between worlds, those with the ability to dream travel, armed with the secret knowledge, can move within those worlds,” says Tabares. “But they may often get lost – or worse. Cerulea is a chronicle of that amazing journey. ”
About Veronica Tabares
Raised in Memphis, Veronica Tabares has traveled across many states and career fields. She has sold artwork to businesses, produced web content for a tech company, performed story time as a children’s librarian, and taught 6th graders how to be safe on the Internet. Tabares has a Bachelor’s in Anthropology and a Master’s in Library and Information Science from the University of Washington. She currently lives in Seattle with her husband and four lovely daughters.
Writers are often asked what process they go through when writing.
Me, I rely on multiple rewrites, which each change the text quite a bit.
For example, this morning these paragraphs:
I opened my eyes and looked at my husband lying beside me. Memories of wonderful times we have had together flooded my mind, and tears began to stream down my face.
What in the world had happened to me yesterday? What tragic event had occurred to make me forget the most important people in my life? There were no humans on this earth who were more valuable to me than my family.
And I forgot their existence for an entire day.
Became these paragraphs:
As the light of morning sun hits my eyelids I decide it must be time to leave the land of slumber and start a new day.
If I could convince my eyes to open, that is. They really don’t like that transition period when they are forced to leave the relaxing darkness of night to be assaulted by that bright orb which sometimes shows itself in the morning sky.
My eyes tell me that they find the whole process extremely unfair!
I convince them to open a slit, and both my eyes and I (or should I say the three of us?) are pleased to discover that there is no pain waiting to sneak in with the sun’s rays.
A little at a time I persuade my eyes to open, until they are finally fully open and ready for a new day. Now all I have to do is roll over, sit up, and get out of bed.
But my movements are arrested as my eyes decide to focus on the man sleeping beside me.
As if someone had started playing 20 different movies in my head at the same time, memories flooded my brain, engulfing me with a kaleidoscope of images made up of the wonderful times I’ve shared with this man. Interspersed among the picnics, movies, berry picking and long walks were discussions about everything under the sun. Discussions I have enjoyed very much.
My heart swells with love as the realization hits me that I truly enjoy being with this man who is my husband. It swells even more as I think about how amazing it is that I can talk to him about absolutely everything.
Tears pour down my cheeks as my heart becomes overfull with emotion. This man is not simply my husband—he is my best friend!
I’m such a sap.
What in the world had happened to me yesterday? What tragic event had occurred to make me forget the most important people in my life? There were no humans on this earth who were more valuable to me than my family.
And I forgot their existence for an entire day.
And who knows what the final text will be after a few more rewrites!
By the way, it feels really good to be writing again. I’ve been so busy that I’ve barely written for about a month and a half. I think I was having withdrawal pains.
I told you those Jupiterians would find a way to slow me down!
So where exactly is the dividing line between joy and sorrow?
Odd question?
Maybe not as odd as you might think. Because even though joy and sorrow are considered opposites, they often exist in our hearts side by side.
Take, for example, today. I am helping one of my children move out of the house, and into the dorm.
My heart is heavy with sorrow because I fear that I might lose her. I know that once she moves out of the house our relationship will never be quite the same again, not to mention that I won’t be there to protect her.
From now own, every solution she discovers for herself, every bill she pays without my help, every experience she has without my presence moves her more firmly into adulthood. And everyone knows that although most adults love their mothers, they don’t really need them. (Being somewhat self-sufficient and responsible for yourself pretty much defines adulthood.)
Besides, I won’t get to joke with her about her day, tease her about her hair, give her a hug right before bed.
But here is where my question comes from. Residing right beside the sorrow is that other strong emotion, joy. I can barely contain how elated I feel that she has grown to be such a wonderful, mature young woman. I rejoice in the thought that she is about to begin the journey into adulthood, where she really gets to spread her wings and find out exactly what type of person she is (which is, of course, wonderful, talented, fantastic, etc….).
So when I cannot contain my tears any longer and I break down and cry–which I know I will–where will those tears come from? Where’s the line? Will they be tears of sorrow, or tears of joy?
The book I’m currently working on is not written for the same audience as my first three books. While the Behold the Eye trilogy books were written for the middle grade/young adult group, this new book is more for adults.
Why the change?
Well, probably because I enjoy trying new things, finding new ways to do the same thing, and pushing myself to grow as a writer. My goal is “test the waters” in different genres by writing different types of books. I currently have the beginnings of a mystery, a series of ghost stories, and a science fiction.
Of course, the only one nearing book quality and length is the science fiction. I enjoy writing it, and it is coming along rather well. It is now 120 pages long and….
Uh oh, did you hear that?
When will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut! Now the Jupiterians know about the next book, and they’ll never let me get any peace.
Sigh. Here I go again!
I remember…
Being awakened in the early hours of the morning by my husband. My 15 year old daughter had woken him up because of what she had heard on the radio.
I remember…
Looking at television, horrified that a pilot had made such a terrible mistake and crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings. My heart ached as I thought of the families of the unfortunate who were either in the plane or in the section of the building that had been hit.
I remember…
Watching the second plane crash into the World Trade Center. My first thought was that the whole scene was surreal. It had to be some kind of publicity stunt for a new movie. One plane hitting was a trajedy, two was impossible.
I remember…
The sudden realization that this was no accident, this was no stunt, this was real, and this was an attack. Innocent people going about their daily lives had been attacked and killed. In America.
I remember…
The feeling of fear. Would more attacks follow? How would I be able to keep my family safe? How could life continue?
I remember…
Hearing of the attack on the Pentagon, and of a plane going down in a field. I’ll never forget the look on my husband’s face as we talked about what might come, especially after the plot against our country was discovered and then publicized. Suddenly the world had became a much more dangerous place.
I remember…
Realizing that this was not a series of events that would mark a single day, this was a series of events that would change every day. It was a lonely time. It was a stressful time. It was a time I never want to relive. Many things happened then, and in the days that followed, that I would rather forget.
But I’ll remember…
That I am fortunate. I can empathize with the families of those who died on September 11th, but I cannot truly feel their pain. My loved ones were safe on that eventful day.
And I pledge to remember…
That it was not buildings that were attacked, it was my country. And though it took a little longer than I would have liked, America took action. I’ll continue to be proud of my country. And I’ll continue to be in awe of the selflessness of people like my husband and other members of the military who regularly sacrifice to protect my country.
I sincerely hope Americans always remember what it really means to the an American.
How is it that no matter how hard I try to perfect the manuscript, when I get the proof I always find something I need to change?
Is there a gremlin in my computer that makes changes just as I finalize my final draft?
Or maybe I was hypnotized sometime in my past, and I am the one sneaking in little mistakes that need to be corrected.
Oh, wait, now I have it figured out. It is those pesky Jupiterian aliens! They must be really slow readers, and they want to have the book in hand well ahead of anyone else in their bookclub!
Can you believe it! My proof was lost in the mail!
I wonder if it was delivered to the wrong address, and the recipient has not even looked at the package yet. After all, I’m sure there are many people who only open their mail once a month or so.
-or-
It may have fallen off a conveyor belt in the post office, and it is gathering dust behind all the noisy machines. But since my book is a friendly book, so I’m sure it will be making friends with all the other lost packages that have fallen behind the machinery throughout the years.
-or-
Aliens from Jupiter had read the first book, and just couldn’t wait to read the next one!
Naughty aliens!
I should have known! Today is Sunday, and the proof copy of Cerulea isn’t here yet.
Doesn’t it seem that the more something is anticipated, the longer it takes to arrive? Like…like…Christmas, or a loved one who has been away, or maybe a vacation. You wait, and wait, and wait and it seems that you have to keep waiting FOREVER.
Things that are dreaded, well, there is no slowing down how fast they come! A test, morning after a long night, and Monday appear magically. Blink your eyes, and there it is!