Chorus of Crows Cover Reveal!

When retired farmer Oren Walton meets a mysterious woman in his old RV, he believes he’s received a final mercy–a brief escape from loneliness, grief, and the slow theft of his body by Parkinson’s disease.

But there’s a problem: his daughter, Sedona, thinks he hallucinated the whole affair. Oren insists the woman is real; Sedona only sees the familiar signs of illness and delusion.

The girl in the RV is just the beginning. Sedona watches her father unravel as stories of strange visitors and malevolent crows escalate into inexplicable farm machinery mishaps, dangerous encounters with intruders, and a battle with a terrifying creature on the porch.

Through her late mother’s diaries, Sedona finds a brief respite from the harsh realities entwining her peculiar new life on the farm. When the land itself begins to feel watchful, Sedona wonders if something else is at work, something that took root long ago at the spot—a place behind the barn that changed the family’s lives forever.

As hallucination and horror blur into one, father and daughter must ask the same question: Is Oren losing his mind, or is there something far worse than madness at play?

***

I hope this copy ignited a spark. The arrival of my new book in 2026 sparks joy for me. You can check out an alternate version of my back jacket copy on my website books page. See below. Kindle preorders are open with print orders to come! :) 

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Nourish Your Novel!

 

Years ago, I started an ill-fated writing group on Meetup called Nourish Your Novel. I’d select a restaurant, then post an invite to the writers who had joined the group, and a bunch of us would meet for lunch, to nourish our bodies with delicious food and our brains with talk about books. I was so eager to meet other writers. But my fondest memory of the group was the stiff Manhattan I ordered at a restaurant appropriately called Book Club during one of the meetings. Boy, I needed a drink to get through those literary meals. Some members scrolled their phones. Nobody had much to say about books. One guy invited a creep to a meeting that I’d met in another group, and he was insufferable—and yes, still creepy. One woman berated me for something or other. During small talk, I remember mentioning the untimely death of Margaret Mitchell (Gone With the Wind) as she crossed a street only to be hit by a car. Yikes. By the time that Meetup was over, I felt like stepping in front of a car myself. Okay, I may be exaggerating, but after my time as an organizer, I never attended another Meetup again. But I still think it’s essential to nourish you and your novel, so here’s what I’m eating and drinking this Christmas, and the recipes too.

Squash Ravioli with Prosciutto and Toasted Pecans is my go-to delight on Christmas Eve. You can cheat and buy prepared squash or pumpkin ravioli, along with a jar or a plastic tub of cream sauce. Just add my fixings.

You’ll need: One package of wonton wrapper dough (this is the pasta I use). One roasted and mashed squash—your favorite kind. (I cut the squash in half and roast it on a baking sheet at 400 until fork-tender. Then scoop out the squash, discard the skin, and mash well. Good quality prosciutto, fried until crispy. Toasted pecans. Prepared cream sauce heated in a pan with 1-2 tsps of sage. One year, I had leftover cream sauce, and the next night, I thought it had gone moldy and threw it out. But it was just the sage! Opps.

To make the filling, in a bowl, combine the cooled squash, ½ cup Parmigiano Reggiano (or just parmesan), 1/2 tsp nutmeg, and 1-2 tbsp balsamic vinegar. Mix.

Now you’re ready to prepare your wonton raviolis. Brush a little water around the edges of two wonton squares, and place a medium dollop of the squash mixture in the middle of one, and then meld the two squares together, pinching the edges all around. Repeat.

In a large pot of boiling water with a bit of olive oil to prevent sticking, briefly boil your wontons, using a mesh scoop to delicately lift them out of the pot when they are tender to taste.

Assemble your plates with the cooked wonton/ravioli squares, cream sauce, extra parmesan, prosciutto, and toasted pecans. I like to grate fresh nutmeg over the top. Add sea salt and cracked pepper to taste.

But what about an adult beverage to celebrate Christmas Eve? I make an apple cider Manhattan. In a fancy glass, add 2-4 ounces of your favorite whiskey. I use Jim Beam Black. Add 2-4 ounces of apple cider, and sprinkle in a generous amount of chocolate bitters. Add ice, and if there’s any left after dinner, drink it while you open your Christmas gifts.

And no, this isn’t the Manhattan from my memories of Nourish Your Novel. But any Manhattan is good!

Cheers!

Happy Holidays!

P.S. 

The best Christmas gift you can give me or any author is your rating or review on Amazon. I read in the AME newsletter, that as little as five extra reviews can jumpstart sales, and that when an author hits 50 reviews on Amazon, they get a real visibility boost. 

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Sanctions and Restrictions for Animal Consumption of Processed Cheese Snacks

These are real Christmas ornaments. I made them for a book contest and won. Plus, who doesn't love cheese puffs? Santa would gobble them up. Now, follow the rules...

~ Do not handfeed Gorillas. They prefer to eat cheesy potato chips with one hand while choking you with the other. If this is what you want, proceed with care.

~ Ditto small monkeys. They are too excitable to handle extreme deliciousness. Therefore, processed cheese will instigate fits of screaming.

~ All poultry should eat their cheese puff sideways, forming a T shape with their tiny noggin. If done correctly, the cheese puff should explode around the beak in a rain of salty particles. The chicken is then allowed to peck up debris in a fastidious fashion.

~ Presenting a certified poodle breed with a lowbrow snack is unseemly. However, If you must, the edible should be a cheesy fish or orange-colored cracker. The wafer is then placed directly on the canine tongue. Finally, after mastication is complete, the poodle should be verbally showered with abundant praise.

~ Lamas should be handfed cheese crackers while standing perpendicular and at arm’s length from the animal subject. This technique allows for an unimpeded stream of camelid spit projection.

~ Raccoons should not be handfed. Instead, they prefer to steal their snacks. You may allow the raccoon to rummage through neighborhood garbage cans and public picnic areas. After the raccoon hits paydirt or cheesy gold, a wicked, toothy smile should erupt across its masked face. This cheery-creepy mask does not always manifest. Without the expression, proceed directly to the final step. Lastly—and very important—the raccoon should eat standing on two feet as if playing a harmonica or scarfing a cob of corn. Crumb loss is inevitable. So, abandoning a whole bag of snacks for raccoons is recommended.

~ Lions must be handfed, one nacho cheese triangle at a time. (Triangle snacks are considered by most cool cats at the top of the junk food chain, especially by the Kings and Queens of Jungle Savanna) The royals must have many human subjects, as hands and fingers are sometimes accidental appetizers. This unplanned nourishment is a culinary privilege and should not be considered a poor reflection on the feeder.

~ Cheese puffs can clog an Ant-Eaters snout, like hair in a shower drain. Proceed with caution.

~ You must hand-feed Elephants one cheese puff at a time while humming a tune. But humming a circus tune is offensive.

~ Small cats should be handfed cheese balls while wearing feathered costumes with bells and jingly sparkles. Otherwise, there is an inherent risk of feline boredom. Proceed at your own risk.

~ Do not feed kangaroos. They will collect enormous amounts of processed edibles in their pouch. Often, they will punch the feeder in the face.

~ Ditto squirrels. They will cache snacks everywhere. It is a waste of delicious cheese as it will just rot and melt like fertilizer.

~ Shorebirds and hawks will be allowed to regurgitate their fish-shaped cheese crackers on a rotating basis.

~ Foxes prefer to sniff out their snacks and abscond back to the privacy of their den. Humans don’t understand their snacking habits. It’s weird but true.

~ Skunks are to be left alone. You may assemble many types of snacks in the forest or field, in all sizes and shapes, in a long row, and allow skunks to discover them. They will scamper down the crunchy trail, choosing one or two flavors. This feeding technique may not make sense, but creativity breeds disaster.

~ Eagles should not be fed cheese snacks of any kind. It may seem like the quintessential American thing to do. But the constitution has a little-known clause: No eagles should ever eat processed cheese. Amen.

On Friday, December 5th, discover me at the T.A.L.E.S. Reader Appreciation Event on Facebook. I'm giving away more books on Thanksgiving with another event at the Tattered Page Book Club. I have a Goodreads KDP giveaway underway, and best of all, an upcoming event at Books on Third in Naples, Florida. Spread the word! (See below) Plus, an author posted a YouTube video about me and my book. You can find it here. Whew, that's a lot. Thanks for reading. 

Did I write this goofy post because I was born in Wisconsin and I'm still a cheesehead? Perhaps. :) Happy Thanksgiving! And remember: "Cheese is milk's leap toward immortality." Clifton Fadiman

Books, conversation, freebies, and fun. I hope to see you at Books On Third in Naples, Florida! Books On Third Discover my author website! Read The Levitation Game!

 

"There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife." ~ Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

 

I heard footsteps somewhere outside, and a kerfuffle in the bushes. My eyes blinked open, peering around the edges of my tent, imagining what lay beyond the flimsy tarp, with only stitches, zippers, and plastic as the barrier between me and whatever was out there.

A stick snapped, and I imagined giant paws trampling upon me and a death grip clamped around my throat. I bolted upright, sitting as still as a corpse, my ears tuned to all sagging corners. The air felt crisp. It was predawn dark through my window flap, with only a faint hint of light thinning the inky blackness of the woods. I leaned to peek through the screen. No bears pillaged around my picnic table, and no deer nipped at the moonlit ferns and grass around my campsite. A distant but eerie howl initiated goosebumps, but nothing rustled near my tent. Whatever had passed through my surroundings must have slunk away into the night.

I snuggled deep into my sleeping bag, resisting the nagging urge to look at my phone. Minutes of delicious silence passed. My heart slowed. I flipped onto my side, and peace washed over me until more feet scampered in a sloppy circle around my tent. What was out there?

With a racing heart, I slithered from my sleeping bag, lit my phone’s flashlight, and crawled to the opening of my tent, zipping it down. I lurched from my tent, pointing my phone around me. There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife. I screamed, and so did the intruder, holding their arms up and dropping an armful of fiddlehead ferns, along with a glittering steel knife that stuck up from the ground like an exclamation point. I gulped and shone my light into the middle-aged face of a woman with wide, glassy eyes. 

“I was just collecting ferns,” she said, stepping backward.

“At night?”

“No. Well, before daylight, when the shoots emerge,” the woman said, chirpy, as if this kind of terrifying foraging were normal.

The woman grabbed her ferns, sheathed her knife, and tiptoed away.

I frowned, but wondered what a fiddlehead fern must taste like.

I returned to my tent.

Happy Halloween! 

Dreamsphere Books returned my edit and work has begun on Chorus of Crows, which is set to launch in early 2026! Plus, I had a blast with my all day takeover at Tattered Page Book Club last Friday. I'm giving away 5 print copies to the winners, and ebooks to everyone that entered. 

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"This world is but a canvas to our imagination." ~ Henry David Thoreau

 

"The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls." ~ Pablo Picasso 

Creativity is the cornerstone of my being, much like the rustic old support beams crisscrossing the ceiling of the granary on my childhood farm in rural Wisconsin. It’s my foundation. It’s who I am. Who would I be without it?

As a child, I daydreamed. But mostly, I drew, erasing straight through my paper, trying to get what I saw in my head reflected perfectly on the page. I utilized acrylic, oil, pastel, and watercolor, and my artwork soon accumulated in drawers and tablets. Eventually, I graduated from UW Stout with a degree in Graphic Design. More painting ensued. I sold a few pieces at summer art fairs, but mostly accumulated my art like a chipmunk caching nuts.

I joined the SCBWI and began illustrating children’s books, including Maya Monkey, Mary Rode to Bethlehem on Me, and Mrs. Jones’ Tea Party, along with other collaborations with the Children’s Book Illustrator’s Guild. My walls filled like cars at a traffic light. My basement overflowed. I began to wonder if I could write my own children’s book, and I did—a cute rhyming story that kept my neurons firing at all hours of the night.

One day, out of the blue, I ditched everything I’d worked for my entire life and began writing novels. Was I nuts?

No. I chose to paint with words instead. I’d been creating scenes on canvas my whole life, so how hard could writing novels be? Okay, it’s been challenging from day one, and I’m still learning by reading and studying a wide range of books. However, writing a vivid setting or location and including all the senses is just like painting a pretty picture.

While on a retreat with bestselling author Jess Lourey, I received a book-in-a-bag kit—a color-coded set of small cards designed to help authors outline their books. Outlining is a highly recommended task, but somehow, composing scenes on paper for fifty-odd years enabled me to juggle literary scenes inside my head without using cards. Plus, writing by the seat of my pants is more fun.

Does a scene I’m wrestling need a dialogue break? Yes, I can visualize that if I’m paying attention. If I’ve run on with exposition for too long, I can see that the scene needs to jump back to the present. And as long as I keep focusing on the movement of my characters, and where they are in the scene, they don't fall off the page.

Jess Lourey created the acronym ARISE, stating that each scene should incorporate at least three of the following elements: action, romance, information, suspense, and emotion. Similarly, every painting requires a foreground, a background, and a focal point. The foreground is the most essential element in a painting, and the background often dissolves into a blur. However, it’s still important, just like it’s necessary to make your secondary characters pop like a literary highlight.

Sometimes scenes just clash on a canvas, but that’s what I like about writing: conflict is finally good!

It turns out that art reflects my writing life, and perhaps yours as well. These days, I’m not doing much painting beyond cover art, but you can still find my art at https://sharonwagnerillustration.blogspot.com/

I have good news: A new bookstore in Naples, Florida, Books on Third, will be stocking my book and will host a future author event with me! Yay!

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Field Work

 

My husband and dad out for a walk in the fields.

When I was a kid, field work meant “walking the beans” under an unforgiving sun to pluck errant corn stalks, which sprouted from leftover corn seed into the current year’s bean crop. Sigh. I hated that job.

Mind and feet.

But now, field work simply means thinking and walking. It means losing myself while walking and immersing my mind and feet in nature so deeply that thoughts percolate to the surface unbidden. Why the change? As a writer, I find that walking helps with my writing. And it’s not just me; it’s a well-known remedy for writer’s block.

Walking increases blood flow to the brain, helping you enter a flow state or heightened mental clarity. It also leads to new connections between brain cells. But don’t ask me to list my sources, since this is a newsletter, and not a book report!

For years, after I began my writing odyssey, creativity followed me, no matter where or when I walked. Walking has been my primary form of exercise since I took my first beach walk as a kid, when endorphins soaked my brain, gathered from the combination of seashell treasure, sun, fun, and barefoot exercise. To this day, my longest walks navigated the mangroves behind Lover’s Key State Park, where I could walk alone with just the Gumbo Limbo trees and my book bag for company. One time, while reading on a bench mere inches from the water, I heard a snuffling and looked up in time to see a stray dolphin arc before me, so close I could have touched it. But I lost this joy when my feet became afflicted with hallux rigidus arthritis.

Walking became about pain management, and creative thoughts withered.

This month, I had surgery to fix my right foot, with screws, a surgeon, and a prayer. Next up will be my left. It hurts like hell. I feel antsy. I have plenty of time to write, but I want to walk. Wish me luck!

“Goals transform a random walk into a chase.” ~ Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

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Literary Deplorables

Since my book launch, pages have turned, sales have simmered, and book bindings have remained stuck. Nothing horrible or unexpected has happened. And yet, there are still many deplorables in my book publishing and marketing basket—the worst part is gaining email subscribers for my newsletter. I’ve found the job akin to herding cats inside a David Lynch movie produced by persnickety sudoku enthusiasts. Why is it so hard?

I decided to seek advice from David Lynch himself, surreal filmmaker extraordinaire. David’s film credits include Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks. He has since passed. RIP Mr. Lynch. But you didn’t think I was serious, anyway, right?

Here’s what he had to say: 😊

“Sharon, if you take away nothing else from our imaginary Zoom correspondence, remember, when in doubt, talk backward.”

 “esaelP, lliw uoy ebircsbus ot ym liame tsil?” I repeat very slowly to Mr. Lynch.

“No thanks,” he says. “But here’s another tip: When you send your newsletter, include an insane soundtrack to keep potential subscribers on edge. You know, unstable even.”

“I’m not sure if that will help me. But I can try Nirvana or Metallica, and maybe include a link for spotify in my next newsletter.”

“Great. Sarah, that’s your name, right? People like a good mystery. Tell people they may be signing up for a Sears credit card or your email list, but they won’t know which one—keep it cagey.”

“Okay, Mr. Lynch.”

“Sharon, here’s another gem: when you ask for new subscribers, make your questioning extremely difficult to follow. Keep potential subscribers on their toes. Make the tone weird, bizarre even. You know, switch it up. I like to use the word “discomforting” to describe my approach; maybe this feeling can help you, too. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mr. Lynch. I already feel slightly uncomfortable.”

“Good. Hey, Simone, I’ve got to go. I’m having lunch with an elephant and a coal miner. Goodbye.”

“This is going to be more difficult than I thought.”

knahT uoy rof gnidaer!

In other words,

THANK YOU FOR READING!

My August newsletter hits inboxes next week! 

"I discovered that if one looks a little closer at this beautiful world, there are always red ants underneath." ~ David Lynch

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