Author
Biography: Marian L. Thomas lives outside Atlanta, Georgia and is also the
best-selling author of two Clean Fiction novels, Color Me Jazzmyne and My
Father's Colors. Avid readers have embraced Marian's ability to move the
heart and stir the mind with her dramatic style of writing. The author has been
a frequent guest on radio shows, nominated for many industry awards and
interviewed by numerous newspapers and magazines. Marian is working on her next
novel, Colors That Bloom, which is
scheduled for release in April 2013.
7
Completed Questions:
·
When did you begin to realize
you wanted to write?
- "In high school. I wrote the first draft of Color Me Jazzmyne . Of
course, over the years it took on many revisions until I finally threw it away
and started over. The only thing I kept was the main character's name, Naya
Monà ."
·
Tell us about your journey to
publication.-
"I started writing in college on
what I would call a more serious level. I wrote for the school paper covering
news and sports. Then life hit me like a whirl wind and writing to a back seat.
I got married, purchased a home, adopted a dog and so forth. Twenty years later, I finally held my first
published novel in my hand. Today, I am proud to still be on that journey with
the release of my third book."
·
Are you a full-time writer? If
no, when do you find it best to write? - "No, I wish. It's a goal that I look forward to one
day achieving. I tend to do most of my writing at night when everyone else if
fast asleep, including my dog.
·
What are your favorite books? - "Most people find it
hard to believe that I am more of a "movie watcher" than book reader.
The last book I read that I really enjoyed was by Christina Schwarz. It was
called Drowning Ruth."
·
What do you think about digital
books? -
"They are a great way to get a book in 30 seconds or less. Sure there will
be avid readers who will still crave the print edition in their hands, however,
the age of reading books via a digital device is not something that is going to
go away by any means. I for one, am glad of that fact."
·
What is your favorite thing
about being an author?
- "Visiting book clubs. At first, I was not really embracing that part of
my journey because it's hard for me to open up around a group of individuals
that I am not familiar with. However, something happens when you walk into a
group of women who not only understand your struggles but embrace your pen,
appreciate your passion and support your journey."
·
What do you want readers to get
out of your books?
- "That as women, it's our inside that colors us, not the color of our
skin. Each of us has a crayon box of life that is filled with our attitude
toward the life we have at present, the life we've lead in the past and the
life we desire in the future. Our box also contains our reflections, journeys,
pains, loves and even disappointments. These all help define what we are made
of on the inside. As women, we can
either allow the people in our life to color us or we can determine our own
colors. We have to choose to make our inside beautiful so that the colors in
our box of life, will be also.
Web-links:
Face-Book:
http://www.facebook.com/MLT.ColorMeJazzmyne
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarianLThomas01
Author Site: http://www.marianlthomas.com
Blog:
http://pageforwardwithmlt.blogspot.com
Publicist Email Address: rikkisandress@lbpublishingco.com
Purchase Links:
Amazon
& Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/Strings-Color-Marian-L-Thomas/dp/0984896708/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1326731282&sr=1-1
Barnes
& Noble.com :
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/strings-of-color-marian-l-thomas/1107843086?ean=9780984896707&itm=1&usri=strings+of+color
Book
Trailer :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZuWqlo3bac&feature=youtu.be
Book Synopsis:
Life can grab a hold of you like
captivating strings of color. It is a lesson that
four
women will learn as they each travel down a journey filled with lies, betrayal,
and shocking secrets.
Simone. Is immensely talented, yet
everything she has ever known will be ripped
apart. Her love will be tested.
Her heart will call out for a strength that could
only exist in moments like this,
and her tears will carry her through the storm.
Will she be able to give her
heart to the love of her life while fighting to open
her heart to a mother she has
never known?
Naya. While facing her greatest
loss, will she be able to find the key to strength, the will to continue on,
and the endurance to make it through one of the darkest moments in her life?
Monà . Within her heart is a secret
so deep that it could shake the very
foundations of two lives. Will
she be able to finally look into the eyes of a
daughter she has only known from
a distance?
Misty. Two paths are set before her;
one could lead her back to the life of fame and prominence, which she so
desperately wants; and the other could give her the love she so desperately
needs. Will she choose the path that is best for her future, or for her heart?
Excerpt of your book
Chapter
1
onight I almost died…Naya thought to
herself.
As she walked into her foyer, she dropped
her purse, removed her shoes, and slowly allowed her eyes to follow the curve
of the stairway until they met up with the oil painting, which hung in the
center.
Wrapped in a thick walnut wood frame,
painted in the soft hues of crisp blues, creams, and specks of red, were
herself and Chris.
His chest stuck proudly out. His smile was
as wide as the sunshine. His blue eyes sparkled with the color of the ocean.
Arms wrapped around her waist.
Chris.
She could feel her fingers reaching out to toward him.
She remembered that day. How good it felt
to be his wife.
The tears began to run down her cheeks as
the weight of the day caused her legs to surrender to the pull of the rich
mahogany wood floor.
Trembling. Heart pounding.
I’ve
got to catch my breath, she whispered to herself.
Ten seconds later, she began to scream. The
walls responded. The chandelier shook as the realization of what had happened
began to sink deep into the pit of her stomach.
Less
than two hours ago…I was sitting in a worn out chair watching a spider crawl up
the wall. I had listened to the splatter of raindrops beat against the dirty
windows. I had been staring at the moon for hours. Staring at the walls and
then counting the tiny cracks in the floor. There were three hundred and
forty-two. Crying for what seemed like days.
My
tired body was heavy, ragged and empty. The whiff of dirty mop water had
consumed my lungs and I had often found myself dabbing frantically at the
corners of my red and swollen eyes. The lights had been dimed and the curtains
slightly drawn shut but I could still see him.
Every
touch we shared had flashed in my mind, every smile and every kiss.
I
could hear the machines.
As I
sat there, I remember feeling like my heart had begun to mix with the slow and
methodic beeping noises they made.
My
mind had just about settled and my eyes had finally closed when I heard it.
The
noise penetrated the entire room.
Louder
and louder it got, like a banging in my head. I began to scream as I ran to him
and wrapped my fingers around his bed rail.
“Chris!”
I shouted.
My
body was calling out for strength. Darn near begging for it.
For
him, I would give everything, anything. I would reach down into bottomless
wells just to find a speck of it.
“Find
me strength; find the darkness that I am in,” I kept repeating over and over in
my mind.
A
teardrop fell upon his face.
The
doors flew open. Three nurses came charging in.
One
tried to pry my fingers from his bedside but I fought with all that I had to
hold on.
I was
like a mad woman. I kept thinking that if he could just feel my touch, it would
give him the strength to fight.
“Please
ma’am,” she said to me. “You’ve got to let go so we can try to save him.”
I had
watched her lips moving, but my mind had failed to register the reality of the
situation I was in.
“Let
go ma’am, we’re losing him.” The tone of her voice had finally broken through
and I somehow began to find myself again.
I
remember staring at her, and then back at him. I remember thinking to myself,
“Did I hear her right?”
Dizziness
hit me like the strike of a lightning bolt. My palms had begun to sweat.
“Ma’am”
She said again.
Finally—I
blinked.
“Please
save my husband,” I whispered.
“We’re
trying ma’am, but you’ve got to let go.” The nurse had been forceful but kind.
My
fingers let go but my heart was still with him as I was gently moved out of the
way.
There
was rapid movement, loud voices, and machines being brought in.
I
stood against the wall clutching my shirt and watching his motionless body.
When
the doors flew open again, the doctor rushed in.
I
think she glanced my way for a moment. But now I can’t remember.
What
I do remember is that there was no slow and methodic beeping noise from the
machine penetrating deep into my ear lobes anymore. It had vanished as if it
had somehow been carried off into the wind.
“Come
back, Come back.” I whispered.
I
wanted to hear it again. I needed to hear it again.
His
blanket was pulled back; a nurse was cutting open his gown. I watched as the
scissors graced his skin. A chill came over me.
Strong
and forcefully tears began to streak down the sides of my face.
The
doctor was yelling, or was that me? I think I remember the doctor’s voice.
“On
my count of three, go.”
“Clear.”
“He’s
still not responding.”
“Get
the machine ready again!”
“It’s
ready Doctor.”
“Clear.”
Still
the machine was silent.
“Come
back beeping noise. I won’t complain about you anymore. Please come back to
me.”
I
stared at the window as if it would open and the sound would return.
There
was nothing. Not one single beep!
Fear
and anticipation filled the air as more nurses and doctors came rushing in.
The
last thirty years of my life was slipping out through the crevices of my
fingers.
“Try
again!” The doctor shouted.
At
that moment, the love of my life was leaving me.
“Doctor,
he’s not responding,” a young nurse stated.
“I
said try again!”
“Yes
Doctor.”
This
was the moment, the moment when I went into a panic. The moment I pushed past
them all and ran to the foot of his bed. I began to scream at him
uncontrollably.
“Come
on Chris, fight baby. You can do it. Please Chris, I need you. Please baby.
Fight Chris. Fight for me!”
My
mind was searching for something and then I knew. I knew what I needed to do.
I
began to sing.
I put
every drop of what he loved about my voice into those lyrics and I allowed them
to sink deep into his ears, his mind, and I prayed that they penetrated into
his heart and made it beat again.
Still
the machine didn’t make a sound.
A
nurse placed her hand over her mouth. I watched her as I sang.
Tears
were falling down the corners of her cheeks.
“Don’t
you dare give up on him, “I kept thinking.
The
doctor stepped closer; the tears were racing down her face.
“Do
it again!”
The
nurse moved quickly to the other side.
I
didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of them. For me, the rest of the world
didn’t exist, just me and my Chris. He was my love, my husband and friend.
I
closed my eyes, and rested my hands firmly upon his heart. My tears graced the
top of his chest. I pushed my voice, pushed my heart, and dared my throat to
let go and expose just how I felt about this man.
Everyone
there needed to know. They needed to know so that they too would fight. They
too would hold on. They wouldn’t give up, nor would they ever give in.
© 2011 All
rights reserved. Book Excerpt Reprinted by Permission of Marian L. Thomas,
author. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author's written permission.
Copyright infringement is a serious offense. This excerpt is used for
promotional
purposes only.
