INTRODUCTION

Hi everyone My name is Victoria Zumbrum, 40 years old, married 14 years with 1 son. This is my very first blog. So bear with me. I have always wanted to have my own blog. I have always loved to read. I enjoy getting lost in a good book.
I love becoming part of the story and characters. I am hoping to bring my love of books to my readers.

I love reading different genres such as paranormal, young adult, romance, romantic suspense, mystery, Christian fiction, some horror, etc. The list goes on. I started reviewing books a couple of years ago and have done reviews for different blogs and even some authors. I really have enjoyed reviewing books and I will continue to do so. If anyone is interested in me reviewing a book for them, please contact me. I still have a lot to learn regarding my own blog so bear with me. I welcome and appreciate all followers.

Thursday, January 25, 2018

A Day In The Life Of an Author Wendy Nikel

Wendy Nikel is a speculative fiction author with a degree in elementary education, a fondness for road trips, and a terrible habit of forgetting where she's left her cup of tea. Her short fiction has been published by Fantastic Stories of the ImaginationDaily Science FictionNature: Futures, and various other anthologies and e-zines.

For more info, visit wendynikel.com or subscribe to her newsletter here!

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A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN AUTHOR

by Wendy Nikel

My typical day starts around 7:30am. We're not early birds around here, and that's when it starts getting light outside. I lace up my shoes, turn on Pandora's "Classic Rock Power Workout" playlist, and take a jog around our neighborhood. Living east of the mountains, there's a golden hour after it gets light out but before the sun starts blazing down over the peaks. The clouds turn orange and purple, and it's perfect for brainstorming new ideas.



Back home, 6-year-old has to get to kindergarten and my husband has to get to work, so the next hour or so is a whirlwind of breakfasts and backpacks, socks and shoes. In between bites of scrambled eggs, I sip my coffee and check my email. There's usually at least one or two that I can take care of before the house gets quiet and 8-year-old and I start homeschool.

We spend the morning "at work," together at the kitchen table. I write, taking frequent breaks whenever he runs across a new concept or something he wants to share. Some days, he has playgroups or co-op classes in the morning and I have to postpone my writing time, but for the most part, we can work quietly like that until lunchtime.

Lunch is our family's big meal of the day, and while I'm preparing it and waiting for my husband and youngest son, I'll sometimes chat on the phone with my sister or my mom. Afterwards, we go our separate ways: husband back to work, kids to play LEGOs or board games or run around outside, and me back to writing or revising or editing.



As afternoon passes to evening, I'll tuck the laptop away, so we can go on walks or play board games or go to the library. Dinner's usually simple —sandwiches or soup or leftovers — and we read aloud together until the kids' bedtime. Lately, their favorite books have all been about hamsters. Princess hamsters. Classroom hamsters. Hamsters on grand adventures.

Bathtime's followed by bedtime, followed by downtime in the coziness of our den — reading or watching movies with a cup of tea and a warm blanket until the day is gone and I can't hold my eyes open anymore.

It's not always the most productive schedule, but I get to fill my days with things I enjoy — writing, teaching, and caring for the people I love — and for that, I'm incredibly grateful.



Elise Morley is an expert on the past who's about to get a crash course in the future.

For years, Elise has been donning corsets, sneaking into castles, and lying through her teeth to enforce the Place in Time Travel Agency's ten essential rules of time travel. Someone has to ensure that travel to the past isn't abused, and most days she welcomes the challenge of tracking down and retrieving clients who have run into trouble on their historical vacations.

But when a dangerous secret organization kidnaps her and coerces her into jumping to the future on a high-stakes assignment, she's got more to worry about than just the timespace continuum. For the first time ever, she's the one out-of-date, out of place, and quickly running out of time.

Nikel is a solid writer with vivid description, an imaginative future, and a command of accurate historical speech.

Unreliable Narrators

Buy your copy here:

Official page

http://www.worldweaverpress.com/store/p139/The_Continuum.html

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35224471-the-continuum

Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/Continuum-Wendy-Nikel-ebook/dp/B076R9Z6DS/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&qid=1509402840&sr=8-1&keywords=wendy+nikel+continuum&linkCode=sl1&tag=worweapre-20&linkId=8fbea5376b3e9fcfdea0b0fc4dc65b3e

Barnes & Noble

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-continuum-wendy-nikel/1127278953

iTunes

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1299843408



“The spinning slows. Suddenly, everything stops.

My legs flail, searching for solid ground, until I plunge abruptly into dank, smelly water. I gasp, and my mouth fills with brine. I'm being dragged in one direction, but instinct pulls me the opposite way. I kick against my heavy skirts and break the surface. For one dizzying moment I'm utterly confused. The concrete slabs of the nearby docks sharpen my fuzzy memory.

1912.

Southampton.

The Titanic.

I Extracted while on the gangplank—a gangplank that doesn't exist in 2012. This is exactly why our travellers are encouraged to use pre-approved Extraction locations. The Wormhole dumps travellers at the same place they've left from, which can make for some awkward (or dangerous) entrances.

Across the way, Marie does a frantic doggie-paddle towards the steel rungs leading up to the dock. With labored strokes, I swim after her, clutching the sphere in one hand. When I reach her, she's still clinging to the bottom rung, too exhausted to climb to safety.

"Hang on." I slip my Wormhole Device into my handbag and pull my dripping body up to the dock. Water streams out around me, forming a dark puddle on the concrete. The evening sun, balancing on the very edge of the horizon, casts an eerie glow on the water.

"Okay. Come on up—"

My encouragement is drowned out by the sound of retching. Lovely.

I clench my jaw to stop my teeth from rattling and focus on retaining my professionalism—not easy, considering the mucked-up circumstances.

Finally, Marie starts up the ladder, ascending tentatively, with gasping breaths. When she's close enough to grab my forearms, I pull her up with much grunting and tugging. Her eyes widen as she takes in the industrial warehouses, giant cranes, and sprawling parking lots that seem to have appeared instantaneously.

"What have you done?" Her voice rises in pitch with each word.”

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