Colossal Trailer Music – Headless Body in Topless Bar – Moon Spell – Alexandros Nikolaidis
Welcome to Mik’s “Lost and Found” Bar & Grill, where the drinks are spellbinding, the house special comes with a side of mystery, and love is a dish best served hot, and headless.
Colossal Trailer Music – Headless Body in Topless Bar – Snow Angels – Benjamin Zecker
We never forget our first love. They leave an indelible mark on our hearts. One of my fondest middle school romance memories takes me back to Las Cruces, NM, where I met my first young love, a charmingly adorable Latino boy.
One night, we cuddled under a pile of blankets and watched Edward Scissorhands, a romantic dark fantasy film directed by bizarre genius, Tim Burton. It was the first time I recall enjoying a love story (perhaps the make-out session helped). I adored this extraordinarily odd tale, and fell in love with the whimsical score Elfman wove around it. That moment forever cemented my fondness for all things Elfman and Burton.
I fell pretty hard for the boy, too. But, we moved far away shortly after. To his credit, he wrote me love letters for well over a year. I have them still…
In the spirit of Danny Elfman, one of my favorite and most distinctive film composers, I’m hosting a delightfully strange writing adventure in collaboration with Colossal Trailer Music, where YOU, dear readers, will have the chance to be immortalized as a quirky character in our bizarre, but heartwarming, love story.
Lost and Found Challenge
Share your favorite Danny Elfman score/film in the comments section below by February 15th, and Colossal Trailer Music and I will choose three commenters to star as characters in our bizarre Tim Burton-style love story, “Lost and Found”, debuting February 17-19 during WEP’s Valentines challenge! Swing by to read our story for a chance to WIN a digital copy of Colossal’s enchanting Elfman-inspired album, Headless Body in Topless Bar!
Eleven years ago today, on a misty southern morning, a Muggle mother met her magical little girl. A willful bundle of beauty, the wee baby was so enamored with the waking world that she never slept for more than a wink. As her wispy charm grew, so did her uncanny ability to transform the everyday into the extraordinary. With the soul of an artist and mind of an inventor, the young girl was bound for nothing short of greatness.
She sought the stories of others, like herself, who were kind, creative and courageous. Stories that stirred her imagination. Stories that encouraged daring and dreaming. She discovered kindred spirits in the characters created by a renowned Muggle mind, and they made an indelible mark on her journey to becoming who she is meant to be.
Muggles possess their own kind of magic. It is a simple, yet powerful force of positive energy that, once cast, will guide and protect and strengthen the spirit.
The power to INSPIRE is the most potent Patronus in our arsenal―use it well.
Enter our music-inspired pitch challenge by January 28th for a chance to WIN a FREE RSM Elevation track license for your book trailer, a digital copy of the album AND signed copy of guest judge, Guilie Castillo Oriard’s The Miracle of Small Things! Swing by HERE for more details!
IWSG, a community of brilliant writers led by Alex J. Cavanaugh, meets the first Wednesday of every month. Visit the Insecure Writer’s Support Group website and database! You’ll find everything from writing to marketing, along with encouragement and support!
Humanity is at a pivotal tipping point. We are drowning in a sea of senseless violence that threatens every corner of the globe, every culture and creed. History is marred by the mistakes of ignorant minds. If we don’t learn from these mistakes, then we’re destined to follow the same mindless path, leaving only death and destruction in our wake.
I refuse to embrace the defeatist momentum that’s infiltrated every facet of society, from profiteering politicians polluting government while preventing progress, exploitative media misleading the masses, to corrupt corporations whose insatiable greed bleeds the earth and its people dry.
WE must be the ambassadors of peace. Every voice matters. Every act of kindness and compassion combats cruelty. Every moment spent cultivating understanding, wisdom, and acceptance, is a step towards turning the tide.
Well chosen words have the power to influence and evoke change. Use that power to manifest a positive future, where we consciously turn away from an apocalyptic fate and work towards restoring the balance between humanity and nature, while fostering relationships that respect diversity.
Together, we stand on the precipice of possibility. This world belongs to all of us–it will take all of us to save it.
Wishing you & yours a peaceful, happy holiday!
Aeralie Brighton’s The Christmas Song, Cover by Ryo Ishido
The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire) by Aeralie brighton
Swing by Dec. 4th to enter our music-inspired pitch challenge for a chance to WIN a free RSM Elevation track license for your book trailer, a digital copy of the album AND signed copy of guest judge, Guilie Castillo Oriard’s The Miracle of Small Things!
IWSG, a community of brilliant writers led by Alex J. Cavanaugh, meets the first Wednesday of every month. Visit the Insecure Writer’s Support Group website and database! You’ll find everything from writing to marketing, along with encouragement and support!
Love Notes Art Quilt by Susan Redstreake Geary (Mom)
When is the last time you sent someone a love note? Not the hastily scrawled flirtation with glittering hearts and crinkled notebook paper meant for a middle school crush, but the sharing of something genuine.
A hand-scribbled post-it of appreciation. A thoughtful message. A supportive email. A compassionate text. A cheerful tweet. In a world where everything rushes by in a blink of an eye, we tend to lose track of what’s worthwhile.
The real currency in this world isn’t money. It’s kindness.
Our lives are a patchwork of moments connected by a running stitch of light and dark. The shade of thread is up to you. Every moment of compassion and respect, courtesy and love, brightens the pattern.
Let this be my love note to you. For your time and support, unfailing encouragement and unwavering optimism, loyal friendship and endless inspiration, and love–I thank you. You add light to my life.
Swing by Dec. 4th to enter our music-inspired pitch challenge for a chance to WIN a free RSM Elevation track license for your book trailer, a digital copy of the album AND signed copy of guest judge, Guilie Castillo Oriard’s The Miracle of Small Things!
IWSG, a community of brilliant writers led by Alex J. Cavanaugh, meets the first Wednesday of every month. Visit the Insecure Writer’s Support Group website and database! You’ll find everything from writing to marketing, along with encouragement and support!
Mexican tax lawyer Luis Villalobos is lured to the tiny island of Curaçao anticipating a fast track to the cusp of an already stellar career. But the paradise we expect is so rarely the paradise we find.
The author, Guilie Castillo Oriard, is a Mexican export herself; she transferred to Curaçao “for six months” — and, twelve years later, has yet to find a reason to leave. Her work has been published online and in print anthologies, such as Pure Slush’s 2014 A Year In Stories and gorge. THE MIRACLE OF SMALL THINGS is her first book.
THE GIFT OF MUSIC by Author Guilie Castillo Oriard
When I worked in the corporate world, I kept a sleek set of iPod speakers on my desk. During office hours, music was mellow: ballads, soft jazz, easy pop. Volume appropriately low. But come 6 (or 7, or 8… we put in long days), the decibels got free rein, and the genres shifted to the Dark Side. (Yes, Pink Floyd. Smashing Pumpkins. Lenny Kravitz. Pearl Jam. AC/DC. The Brandenburg concertos, maybe the Four Seasons. Rock it, Antonio.) +++In those last, solitary two or three hours, I got through double the work than I did in the previous ten. Less interruptions. Less calls. Less colleagues wanting to chat or bounce off ideas. But my money, for Most Influential Cause, is on the music. +++Because music makes me happy, and it does so in a way that has nothing to do with what the world insists is happiness-inducing: money, relationships, possessions, achievements. Music puts me in the right here, in the now, and the happiness I get—from the beat, the harmony, the poetry in the lyrics—comes from nothing else than the miracle of being alive. +++That happiness—that bliss—does wonders for my concentration. It puts me in the zone. +++But that’s not the only gift music brings. Though I only discovered that when I’d been writing fiction full-time for a couple of years. +++This happened: I couldn’t get a scene right. A man at a moment of melancholy. Of that weird kind of nostalgia for what never happened. And… it sounded teenage-sulky. +++No. No. +++This man doesn’t sulk. He’s a kick-ass, superstar tax attorney. Someone in love with the adrenaline of board rooms, the thrill of working under maximum pressure, of discovering a legal loophole at the eleventh hour to save a client (and their millionaire bank accounts). +++I was ready to throw the whole thing out. But my iPod, in all its wisdom, chose that moment to bring Leonard Cohen to the surface of its shuffle ocean. ++++++ He wants to write a love song ++++++ An anthem of forgiving ++++++ A manual for living with defeat… +++This man was, to paraphrase Roberta, singing my scene with his emotionless words. The whole gravelly, pseudo-upbeat mood of the song nailed the atmosphere I wanted. +++I put the song on repeat, and rewrote the scene from scratch. And there it was: the nostalgia without the sulkiness, the sense of defeat without the self-pity. +++Since then, I make Writing Playlists: scene-, mood-, even character-specific. +++In the same way we read poetry to get in touch with our edgiest, most succinct, cut-to-the-marrow syntax and lexicon, I believe through music we’re able to delve ever deeper (and more accurately) into ourselves. Music brings out magic in us, whether through memory or emotion, or both—and through imagination.
How does music influence your own creativity? If you’re a writer, have you ever used music in a similar way? How do you get in the zone? Any tips you’d like to share?
Pélagie’s coming down the walk with Al. They both smile when they see Luis, but only Pélagie speaks. “So this is your secret lair, Mr. Hotshot Tax Attorney?” +++ Luis wants to lob back the banter, but his glibness has gone the way of the wooly mammoth. Emotion is building at the base of his throat, and he realizes that what he wants, more than his bed or the snugness of his duvet, more even than to feel well again, what he needs, actually, is this woman’s arms around him. Which is mad, beyond unhinged, and not just because he’s never felt those arms, has no idea how they’d feel, and how can he need something he’s never had; no, all of that is true, and valid, but the reason it’s certifiably insane to feel this way is because Pélagie isn’t just out of his league: she’s a different sport altogether. +++ He takes hold of Al’s collar. “Thanks for bringing him back.” +++ Pélagie squints at him. “You look—not well. Bad cold?” +++ “Dengue.” There’s a certain pride in not being vulnerable to just any common virus. He kind of wishes it was malaria now. +++ The square of skin between her eyebrows furrows. “How’s the fever?” +++ “Under control.” He shrugs. +++ She comes closer, lifts her hand. Before he can back away or say anything, she’s touching his forehead. Cupping his cheek. Small and cool, that hand quiets the tomahawk army that’s taken up residence in his skull. He leans into it, closes his eyes.
Guilie Castillo Oriard is a Mexican writer and dog rescuer living in Curaçao. She misses Mexican food and Mexican amabilidad, but the laissez-faire attitude (and the beaches) are fair exchange. And the island’s diversity provides great fodder for her obsession with culture clashes. +++ Her work has appeared online and, in print, as part of several anthologies. Her first book, The Miracle of Small Things (Truth Serum Press) was published in August 2015. She’s currently working on a full-length novel. +++ She blogs about life and writing at http://guilie-castillo-oriard.blogspot.com and about life and dogs athttp://lifeindogs.blogspot.com/.
Elevation Writing Contest
Swing by Dec. 1st to enter our music-inspired writing challenge for a chance to WIN a digital copy of RSM’s ELEVATION album and signed copy of guest judge, Guilie Castillo Oriard’s The Miracle of Small Things!
I’ve joined forces with Sub Pub Music and artist, Jenny Vyas to create a creepy atmospheric journey through a classic childhood tale gone horribly awry (a story that spooked the pjs off me as a kid) for Yolanda Renee & Denise Covey’s fearful WEP Halloween challenge! Knock on our virtual door October 21st – 23rd, wager which fairytale we’ve twisted and you’ll walk away with a digital copy of Sub Pub Music’s latest haunting album, Cryogenesis, featuring dark & daring composers Mikkel Heimburger, Cody Still, Nick Road, Ciaran Birch, andMartin Hasseldam. Those who stray from the correct path may be detained indefinitely within the confines of our cryo chamber *cue evil laugh*.
SHUTTER by Jenny Vyas
Sub Pub Music – Cryogenesis – Cryogenesis – Cody Still
Mist, silent and sinister, spills through the chamber’s silver veins. A silent thief come to steal the warmth from our bones. It licks at our legs, hungry for heat. It slips past our lips, stripping our lungs of breath and smothering our screams…
“I see our mysterious guest has successfully thawed,” called a cheerful voice beside us. Memories scattered in the wake of a woman wrapped in a gleaming white gown. A haze of spun sugar clung to her shining flaxen waves.
We winced as her chair screeched a complaint against the stone floor. Our skin, wrapped in a warming sheet, shivered beneath a phantom blanket of ice.
Tegrel stirred.
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe,” the woman smiled. She folded her arms atop the metal table that stretched between us. “I understand you’re a bit, foggy. An unavoidable side effect, I’m afraid. I do hope my inquiry won’t be too tortuous,” she purred, tilting her head with feigned concern. “I was alerted the instant your status improved. I wanted to handle your case, personally. I’ve no doubt our little chat shall be far more interesting than this evening’s stale corporate affair,” she winked. “Now then, let’s start with your name.”
We stared at the woman whose sweet scent and syrupy words oozed with something sinister. We tightened our grip on the pulsing fabric, its label catching on our fingers.
KRYOS Pharmaceuticals
ASCENT by Jenny Vyas
Sub Pub Music – Cryogenesis – Oscillation – Ciaran Birch
“KRYOS is growing desperate. Animal trials have failed,” father whispers to mother across the candlelit table. “The Pestis has infiltrated the world’s population. Humanity is a hair’s breadth away from extinction.”
“We were doomed the moment Monsainto gained control over the global food supply,” mother says, her fingers absently brushing the angry blemish along her collarbone, courtesy of the corporation’s more nefarious animal subjects. Our scars run deeper than most.
The Pestis was rooted in the GM toxins that polluted the most vital elements to our survival. Our food. The regrettable, long-term, unintended side effect? A catastrophic inability to reproduce.
“KRYOS isn’t the solution,” mother squeezes his hand. “They’re nothing but a cannibalistic corporation eager to claim their share of the spoils. It’s up to us to turn the tide.”
Our lips curled with contempt.
“Who are you?” we demanded, dropping the offending blanket.
“Someone who needs answers.” She clenched her jaw. “Your undocumented cryopreservation is terribly troubling. KRYOS prides itself on following proper protocol. Why, one tiny slip on our side of things, and, well,” she leaned forward as if sharing a secret, “the consequences would be…severe.”
UNHINGED by Jenny Vyas
Sub Pub Music – Cryogenesis – Shield of Fate – Nick road
“That damnable woman!” father shouts. “Dr. Syngenta’s expedited testing of her vaccine. On children, no less,” he swallows back the horror. “I traced the unregistered KRYOS chambers to Monsainto’s classified facility in Creve Coeur. The woods bordering the lake are restricted to high-level corporate personnel. I won’t have access. We need someone on the inside. A child.”
Mother pulls her hand away, “No,” she says, shaking her head vehemently. “Shalen’s not ready. Tegler is too unpredictable! It’s too danger–”
“We don’t have a choice,” father cries.
“Imagine my surprise when a prohibited child popsicle conveniently turns up in one of my chambers during a witchhunt,” the woman seethed, her breath a cloying vine of venom. “Property that was to be disposed of after a rather distressing incident.”
Tegrel bristled.
“We’re not your property!”
She rose from her chair, a glint of menace flashing in her crimson glare. “Oh, but you are. You and your gloriously untainted blood.”
FACADE by Jenny Vyas
Father wraps his arms around us. “I’ve run dozens of blood tests. There’s no sign of Pestis. You’re safe.”
“What about Tegrel?” we whisper into his coat of wool and woodsmoke.
His embrace tightens. “Tegrel will protect you from the real monsters in this world.”
“Delightful news!” The woman beamed. “Your blood, my dear, may hold the key to our elusive cure,” she rubbed her palms together. “Available at an absorbent consumer cost, of course.”
BURROWS by Jenny Vyas
Sub Pub Music – Cryogenesis – Sentenced to death – Martin Hasseldam
“I’m not feeling particularly welcoming, Dr. Wood,” the blonde woman hisses, her gun wavering in the space between fire and flesh. “I assume you left a damaging trail for the authorities,” she spat. “No matter. Nothing an unfortunate forest fire can’t fix.”
A massive wolflike creature leaps from the corner, it’s snarling snout dripping with savage fury.
“Dorothea, NO!” Father shouts.
With a piercing howl, the beast tackles the wicked woman to the ground, jagged jaws tearing through blood and bone, until a flash of blue fire finds its mark in the heart of our mother.
Our eyes land on the spidery scars. Ragged and raised, they crept down the woman’s neck and crawled beneath her clean, white gown.
Vengeance, eager and persuasive, slithered through the seams of our thoughts.
LET ME IN by Jenny Vyas
Sub Pub Music – Cryogenesis – we are all aliens – Mikkel Heimburger
Tegrel pushes past me with a guttural growl. Father spies us in the shadows of the cryo room. He shakes his head, wide eyes begging us to stay hidden. We hesitate a heartbeat too long. A corporate guard seizes our arms and tosses us into the nearest chamber. The steel mouth slams shut and swallows us whole. We throw ourselves against the glass, crying out for father, but he cannot come. He’s pinned to the ground, battered and broken and still…
“It hasn’t escaped my notice, your mention of others. I’m sure your siblings are worried sick. We should find them, don’t you think?” she asked, eyes glowing with greed. Another unsullied urchin would raise her profit margin through the roof.
“Tegrel stays close. He watches over us.”
“What a brave brother you have. There’s all manner of monsters lurking about. You’re both better off under my protection,” she nodded with approval, turning on her heels to head for the door. “I’ll notify my guards to collect him.”
“But he’s here,” we taunted. “In this room.”
The woman, creator of orphans, scavenger of souls, spun around, her triumphant smile slipping into a scowl. “What are you playing at?” she challenged.
Beneath the table, our fingers shifted into claws.
We leaned forward and whispered, “Tegrel protects us from monsters.”
Congrats to Djinniafor being the first to guess the origins of this tale: ‘Shalen and Tegler‘ are indeed ‘Hansel and Gretel‘! Many thanks to the WEP gang for joining our journey to the darkside!
The crisp, cool fingers of Fall paints the landscape with crimson and gold. Pumpkins peer out from patches of tangled vines, their blank faces eager to carve out a grin or grimace. The specter of Halloween awaits in the shadows, hungry to pounce. It slithers under beds. It lurks behind cracked doors. It burrows beneath creaking floors.
What better way to embrace the bumps in the night than to forge ones of your own that fright. If you’ve the courage to join Yolanda Renee & Denise Covey’s fearful WEP Halloween challenge, I hear the treats are worth the tricks.
I’m joining forces with Sub Pub Music to create a creepy atmospheric journey through a classic childhood tale gone horribly awry. Knock on my virtual door October 21st – 23rd, wager which fairytale we’ve twisted and you’ll walk away with a digital copy of their latest haunting album, Cryogenesis, featuring dark & daring composers Mikkel Heimburger, Cody Still, Nick Road, Ciaran Birch, and Martin Hasseldam.
I should warn you, those who stray from the correct path may be detained indefinitely within the confines of our cryo chamber.
Cryogenesis – We Are All Aliens – Mikkel Heimburger
IWSG, a community of brilliant writers led by Alex J. Cavanaugh, meets the first Wednesday of every month. Visit the Insecure Writer’s Support Group website and database! You’ll find everything from writing to marketing, along with encouragement and support!
There’s no better way to jump back into the writing community than joining WEP’s fun-filled challenges! Support and kindness run through the veins of this talented group. At the prompting of my dear friend & brilliant writer, Damyanti, I tossed my literary hat into the “Spectacular Setting” ring, where Yolanda Renee & Denise Covey rolled out the virtual welcome mat and made everyone feel right at home. I’m honored to be the recipient of their encouragement (special thanks to Donna Hole) and will take this as a sign that I’m traveling down the right path.
The feedback was especially reassuring, since the excerpt I featured, The Weight of Wonder, was taken from my YA fantasy novel, Architects of Illusion. As I wrestle with the final draft of this beast, I find myself questioning what it is, exactly, that I wish to accomplish in literature.
My writing has evolved into something more. I dream of traveling well beyond the act of telling a compelling story that resonates with readers across the world. I want my words to not only capture the imagination, but inspire and encourage, with layers of deeper meaning that reaches into a reader’s heart and strengthens from within. I want to be a driving creative force that awakens the mind and charges the spirit to see past the impossible in a world where limitations reign.
What do you hope to accomplish with your writing?
Unravel the mystery of UNCHARTED by September 7thHERE, and YOU could bring home a signed, This Is Epic Music Vol. 1, via co-founder & president of Immediate Music, award-winning composer, Yoav Goren!
IWSG, a community of brilliant writers led by Alex J. Cavanaugh, meets the first Wednesday of every month. Visit the Insecure Writer’s Support Group website and database! You’ll find everything from writing to marketing, along with encouragement and support!
I’ve joined in the “Spectacular Settings” fun, where the Write Edit Publish gang shares an inspiring setting along with one of their own creation!
Luckily, setting and I are well acquainted, after spending the past 100 days in the grips of The Great Discontent’s Instagram #100DayProject , sharing oodles of my photographs featuring Biltmore Estate, the magical setting of my upcoming YA fantasy series, Architects of Illusion(think Harry Potter meets Night at the Museum with a Greek mythology spin).
Nestled a mere 5 miles from my humble abode lies the 1895 jewel of Asheville, NC–George Vanderbilt’s 250-room chateau, crowning 8,000 sprawling acres of a majestic mountain paradise. Every detail of Biltmore lends weight to its wonder, sparking my imagination and unveiling the magic within.
It is here, where our story begins, in the mystical heart of the Olympians. Forged by Hephaestus, ruled by Hera, and run by the Muses, Olympus rests in the boundary between our world and that of myths. It is a place of power and illusion, where statues draw breath at dusk and dawn, legendary creatures lurk in every corner, and the fate of mankind rests in the young minds of those chosen by the gods.
I raced past rows of tulip trees, the whispers of dryads trickling from their laughing leaves. Rain licked at my skin and kissed the carpet of grass that stretched before me. The shimmering forms of Hyades pulled out from the sheets to dance amidst the drops. Petrichor, leader of the water nymphs, slipped in beside me. Flashing a mischievous smile, she motioned for me to follow.
We darted past the trio of drowsy tortoises, their necks reaching out towards us, patina beaks dripping with liquid secrets.
I tore up the slanted stairway, my hands sweeping across its jagged limestone throat. At the top, Petrichor stopped to stoop behind the rocky railing, her translucent finger pressed against slippery lips, urging me to be silent. I sunk to my knees and peered through the wall’s teeth, searching the lawn for the prowling lion.
Clouds, swift and dark, swept the rain across the dusky sky towards the mountains. Petrichor and her Hyad sisters slipped away with the wind, leaving me surrounded by silent sentinels. Behind me, the towering hemlock Dryads flanked the boundary between the wild woods that spilled over the landscape, and the wave of majestic elegance that broke into the clearing.
The glass eyes of the manor winked with light as shadows crept across its face. The last fingers of sunset played along its edges, setting the stone ablaze. I felt the pull of dusk upon the veil of magic, letting loose spirits both benign and savage.
The clicking of hooves over gravel pulled my gaze to the gates. Atop the pillars, the sphinx stretched the stone from their limbs. The lavish carriage sped beneath them, pulled by a pair of bare-chested men with long, fair locks, their flesh fading into the familiar hindquarters of horses. The soft green glow of a Naiad broke the surface of the fountain as they passed, curiosity tugging her to the water’s edge.
I spied my playmate dashing alongside the coach, his stone paws muffled by the grass. In one powerful leap, he settled back upon his pedestal, suitably fierce, before the coach came to a stop.
A powerful current sent my nerves skittering with a sense that whoever was inside that carriage carried the winds of change. Our fates were intertwined, the connection charging the air like a living thing. I knew, in that moment, my life would never be the same.
After a lengthy hiatus, I’m back on the virtual block! A combination of personal challenges, novel edits and exciting projects have pulled me away from blogging. It dawned on me last week, after receiving a caring message from a friend, that I really MISSED interacting with my blogging buddies. You guys make the blogosphere an amazing place and I will do my very best to reconnect! If you haven’t already, find me on FB, Twitter & Instagram, where I’m most active!!
I’m in the final draft stages of my debut YA fantasy novel, Architects of Illusion! Over the past several months, I participated in The Great Discontent’s #100DayProject, releasing sneak peeks of the novel’s magical setting via Instagram in collaboration with Biltmore Estate! Step into a world of myth & mysteryHERE!
I’ve also been working with an amazing creative team to create an innovative album campaign fusing video graphics, epic music and custom narrated storytelling! The result is UNCHARTED, a visionary reimagining of Greek mythology and ancient history, where the mystery behind the world’s most extraordinary discovery comes to life through the collaborative efforts of graphic designer, Koke Núñez Gómez, recording artist, Aeralie Brighton, and author Samantha Redstreake Geary, under the influence of Immediate Music & Imperativa Records‘ This Is Epic Music Vol. 1.
Unravel the mystery HERE, and YOU could bring home a signed This Is Epic Music Vol. 1 via co-founder & president of Immediate Music, award-winning composer, Yoav Goren!
IWSG, a community of brilliant writers led by Alex J. Cavanaugh, meets the first Wednesday of every month. Visit the Insecure Writer’s Support Group website and database! You’ll find everything from writing to marketing, along with encouragement and support!
WriterlySam 