What gift can you get for someone who has no real wants or needs? I love to give donations in honor of someone special and I love it when my family does it for me. Here's a great one: Heifer International. You would truly be giving the gift of life, and it's a gift that is "paid forward" by the recipient to another family in need, thus perpetuating itself. Why is it called Heifer International? Because the donations buy animals: heifers, honeybees, goats, sheep, chicks, pigs, geese, even trees, camels and water buffalo. And the donations are given worldwide, including poverty-stricken areas in the US, wherever the need is the greatest.

I have several charities that I support as much as I can; Heifer is one of my favorites. Find out all the details at http://www.heifer.org/gift

Counterpoint: Dylan's Story has been accepted for consideration in the Stonewall Literature Award, sponsored by the American Library Association.

The award, which consists of a commemorative plaque and a cash stipend, is announced in January and presented to the winning authors or editors at the American Library Association Annual Conference in June or July. Just to be nominated is quite an honor. To win would be... totally awesome.

Also, I have entered a short story in a literary competition at Glimmertrain Magazine, which awards nice cash prizes as well as publication! And even if the story doesn't win the contest, they consider all entries for publication. It's not as much as the prize, but still a very nice sum of money.

The story is different from anything else I've ever done. The title is Rivka, and it deals with the memories of a 76-year-old woman who was one of the Jewish children saved from the Holocaust because their fearful parents gave them to strangers to be smuggled out of Europe. How good do I think it is? It's the Counterpoint of my short stories. And you all know what I think of Counterpoint!

Counterpoint: Dylan's Story was given an Honorable Mention in the 2010 Rainbow Awards Gay Historical category My congratulations to my friend Alan Chin, who deservedly won First Place for his great WWII story The Lonely War. The complete list of winners and runners up is at http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1189258.html

Winning anything at all anywhere would be a first, as I've never won anything. Oh, I take that back. I won $1 in a Writers Digest competition about thirty years ago. I still have the check someplace.

So cross your fingers, say a prayer, light a dozen candles, send karma, whatever good vibes you got, baby!

Need a special gift for someone who has an ebook reader? Give the gift of laughter with The Lawyer, The Ghost, and the Cursed Chair, which is a bestseller in the UK. Or the gift of a special love story, Song on the Sand. Or a story of long-delayed justice in The Burma Girl. Or learn how to get even with a bully, using colored contact lenses, brown paper towels, and kitty litter in Mr. Newby's Revenge. All are published by Untreed Reads: http://store.untreedreads.com. You can read excerpts from them all on my website.

What is the perfect gift to buy for someone who is romantic at heart? Someone romantic who loves music and musicians? Someone romantic who loves historical fiction? Why -- Counterpoint: Dylan's Story, of course! It's the story of one young man's love and loss, and new love that brings his dream back to life. It has never received less than 4 stars, more often 5, and once even a 5-1/2. Reader and reviewer responses have been wonderful; some of them have brought tears to my eyes because I love this story so much. It's available in both print and e-book. www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Here is my Christmas gift to you: a nostalgic Christmas scene from Counterpoint, wherein Dylan, suffering from a disappointment in love, thinks of the sanctuary that is home. I hope you enjoy it.

Have a wonderful holiday!

All Dylan wanted that instant was to go home and forget it all. Forget Laurence. Forget his boring, uninspired music. Yes, that's what he needed: the familiar house in Grosvenor Square at Christmas, where nothing changed. The candles in every window. The smell of pine, sweets of every description especially the red and white canes. Pine cones. Mother's and Con's delicate Dresden figures of angels and Father Christmas and Good King Wenceslas. The Christmas tree with its gilded fruits and nuts and velvet ribbons of gold and silver and red. His sister would tease him and he would retaliate. His father would try once more to make him live a life he didn't want to live, but Dylan knew he did it out of love. His brother would look down his nose, belittle his music, and then ignore him. His brother's small children would be annoying.

Christmas Eve was the best part: the pantomime. Usually they did Cinderella, as it was everyone's favorite. It was a time to be completely silly, sense and dignity forgot. He smiled just thinking of it. His dignified, mustachioed father in a ridiculous gown and even more ridiculous wig with outlandish bows was a wonderful Cinderella. He and his brother, and whatever male guest might be there put on the dresses and curls and bows of the three ugly sisters. If there was no guest, then Cinderella made do with two sisters. Plump, short Mother played the Prince with a stuck on beard. The butler, very stout and completely bald, was a grand Fairy Godmother. Sometimes the panto became a completely mad mix of stories. By the time it was over, they were all laughing hysterically. And then they would become themselves, the costumes and fake beard would be put away for another year, and the entire family would go to Midnight Mass together, where the music would be traditional and lovely. Christmas morning there would be gifts under the tree.

At dinner Grandfather Withers, with his old-fashioned dignity, would offer the blessing. On the heirloom damask table linen would be the annual display of the translucent blue, gold, and white Spode bone china that was his mother's pride, the elaborately cut glass wine glasses, and the silver that had belonged to Grandmother Withers, whom he had never known. They would have an overabundance of food, from the wonderful clear soup to the turkey and goose, sweetbread pates, and on and on through dishes and desserts he could never remember the name of. They would all eat too much. As always, Mother would sniffle happily over having her family together again. Yes. That was what he needed now, the one thing that never failed him. Home.

www.dreamspinnerpress.com, Amazon, other bookstores and online sellers!

P.S. Write to me! I love to hear from my readers.

Copyright © Ruth Sims 2009-2010

Update subscription
Unsubscribe