Allow me to introduce you to Kelly Ann Jacobson. She is a fiction writer and poet who lives in Falls Church, Virginia. She recently received her MA in Fiction at Johns Hopkins University, and she is the Poetry Editor for Outside In Literary & Travel Magazine. Kelly is the author of the literary fiction novel Cairo in White and the young adult trilogy The Zaniyah Trilogy, as well as the editor of the book of essays Answers I’ll Accept. Her work, including her published poems, fiction, and nonfiction, can be found at www.kellyannjacobson.com.
Yes, indeed, those are some impressive credentials, but what always impresses me is the imaginations of fantasy authors. Kelly’s book, Dreamweaver Road, is chock full of wizardry, witchcraft and other things that go bump in the night!
Here’s the blurb for Dreamweaver Road:
Though Zoey, a sixteen year old farm girl with magical powers, does not know the extent of her abilities or how she got them, when her best friend is kidnapped by a wizard named Danger, she runs away from home and begins a quest to find him. On the way, she meets Angela, a witch who can see the future through dreams; Mother Shipton, her loyal cat sidekick; Will, a man who claims to be immortal; and Red, a dragon with a grudge. Zoey’s friends help her discover the rest of her powers, as well as the forgotten past that earned her such a dangerous enemy.
And here’s the excerpt of Dreamweaver Road:
“You’re playing with fire, Zoey, and if you go after Danger, you’ll get burned.”
“Burned like this?” I ask, then put my right palm face up on the table and tap the center with my left middle finger. A strand of fire emerges from the place where I tapped, sticky like honey between my hands, and I stretch the flame up like a magician pulling a scarf from his sleeve. Both Angela and Mother Shipton watch, mesmerized, as I solidify the fire in a pillar and then use both of my hands to spin it like turning an hour glass upside-down.
A few years ago my pa took the whole family to the circus, a rare treat for a family who never left the farm, and we watched a beautiful young fire-breather turn a stick with flames on either side in the same way until the flames became a blur against the blackening sky. The fire reflected in their eyes looks the same way now, pinpricks of orange and red that turn to blue as I twist and twist, and when I can no longer tell the individual flame from the rave, I pull my hands apart and the whole sphere disappears.
I want to thank you, Kelly, for guest posting on Carol Presents! Best wishes with your writing career!