Offering Editing Services 

Hello everyone,

Beginning today I’m offering editing services for anyone who needs something edited! 😀😀 Please share this among yourselves, and let me know if you have questions! 🙂

Editing Services

Are you looking for a professional to write and edit something of yours? A poem, short story or manuscript or any other documents? Are you on the verge of sending something into a publisher and need another’s eye about what you have written? You’ve come to the right place! I will edit and proofread your documents while providing free feedback and criticism to you at a single cost.

Why Me?
I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in English with an emphasis on Writing. I also fourteen years of my own experience, including college, to professionally give you a good writing and editing approach.

How does it work?
You contact me via email or social media with your attached document you would like edited. If it is a short story or manuscript, I will provide free constructive criticism in comments throughout the work. Constructive criticism is nothing personal against you or your work, but something critics give on a regular basis. It is not mean feedback, but honest, creative, and direct feedback. I will give you honest and creative approach that will be most beneficial to you and your work. Examples of things I’d comment on is research done for something in the story, or POV aspects.

What do you look for when editing?
Sentence structure, grammar, punctuation, spelling, POV within paragraphs, and that the paragraphs are indented correctly. When editing, I will also determine what readers would like about certain parts.

What is the cost?
Manuscripts; books of poetry or short stories – $50
Individual poems or other documents- $20

How do I pay?
Through PayPal, find my account under name Jenna Kinzler (brown hair with black sweater and scarf), and send to this account. Otherwise, I can give you my address and you can send a check.
How long will it take? (Depending upon project):
Manuscripts- 2-3 weeks
Other – 3-5 days

I will not accept material about or eluding to the erotic or sexual nature which includes bestiality, rape, incest, or alternative lifestyles. Also, please only submit works that carries as little profanity as possible. If you have any questions about these, since there may be exceptions, please contact me. It is better to ask questions than to miss out on an incredible opportunity for your work to be edited professionally.

Need more info?
Please contact me via one of my social media pages seen here, or by my email:

Thank you! I look forward to working with you all! I promise you it’ll be a rewarding and exciting experience for both of us!


When God Keeps Saying “No” ~

When God Keeps Saying “No” ~

6 July 2018


Hello everyone,


Life is never as hard as when you desire something so badly that it brings you to your knees in prayer, every day for months and months, but God keeps saying no. A few days ago, I was thinking about the one thing on this earth that I desired both than anything. And as I was thinking about it while driving, I was in tears, bawling my eyes out, screaming out at the top of my lungs, “Why me, God??!! Of all people, why me??!!”


We’ve all been there, at a place in our life that brings us to our knees. When you pray and pray for something and God keeps saying no, it breaks your heart. But it’s not God breaking your heart, it’s how you view  your problem. What you want more than anything looks simply just way too far away from your grasp, but you already know how immensely happy it would make you if you had it.


In the Bible, a certain Biblical character named Sarah was infertile and in her old age. God literally spoke to her and promised her and her husband Abraham that in due time (God’s perfect timing), they would give birth to a son. But instead of trusting in God’s promises and in His words, Sarah decided it would be a good idea if she “helped” God out by making her servant girl, Harai, as Abraham’s concubine and conceive a child by her. Did that help the situation? No. Did that bring about God’s promises or answered prayers? No. In fact, it made the situation even worse.


Another example of the terrible idea it is to “help” God answer your prayers, is like the story my husband likes to tell me sometimes. Before I came into his life, he longed and desired for a wife. Without realizing it, he tried to “help” God along by asking friends if they knew any good Christian single women. He wasn’t desperate, by any means, but he was ready to settle down. The situation didn’t go so well, so then, he decided that enough was enough. He was going to leave it up to God and prayed that His will be done. Sure enough, in a few months time, I came along, and the rest is history. Now we’ve been happily married for almost 5 years.


When you’re frustrated, angry, sad, and heartbroken, the last thing you want to do is stop thinking about your problem. Right? All you want to do is bury yourself in a dark place, cry yourself to sleep, and be completely miserable for a good long while. Right? But what if I told you that there is true peace, comfort, and satisfaction in the Lord when we turn everything over to Him? When God says “no”, it really means that it is not yet His timing for your problem to disappear. It is not yet His timing for the deepest desires of your heart, something you’ve prayed about for so long, to be fulfilled. Just like Paul in the Bible, when he prayed that God might take away the figurative thorn in his side, God replied that His grace was sufficient, that His power was perfected in man’s weaknesses. When you are heartbroken and grieving and you feel like you just can’t wait any longer for that one thing you keep constantly praying for, remember that God is with you. He is with you and He loves you deeply. He is the one who created you, and He understands you better than you even realize. He understands the hurt and pain you deal with; He’s done it all himself. Jesus Himself carried all of our burdens on the cross so we wouldn’t have to. It was by His sacrifice that we are here today, that salvation is freely ours if we truly want it.


The next time God says “no”, it’ll be really, really hard to accept. Believe, I’ve been there, and I’m still a work progress to this day. I’m still working on getting my trust in God absolutely perfect. It’s a daily process and struggle. But listen, you can’t receive any blessing at all in Christ UNLESS you let it all go and let God handle it. Don’t try to “help” God out by trying to do the leg work for Him, or try to speed up the process of you receiving that blessing. That’s what the devil wants you to do. This also shows great distrust and disloyalty toward God. When you’re trying to help Him, you’re not really trusting Him, you’re not really believing His words that He is your stronghold and help in all kinds of times of trouble. He is our truest friend, and nothing is impossible with Him. Believe that today, my friends. When life gets tough – and it will get tough – the best thing to do is to pray hard about it, but then don’t keep holding onto your problems, fears, worries, etc. Just let it all go. Give it all to God. Pray that His will be done in these circumstances. And then, great peace and comfort will envelop your soul, and you will feel, from the depths of your heart, that you can do anything, because God is with you. Not only that, but in God’s own good timing, He WILL answer your prayers and it WILL be great. Maybe He won’t answer your prayers in a way that you initially imagined, but how He answers will be even better than you ever imagined. You’ll be that much more thankful, too.


I know it’s hard, and it’s not something easy that happens overnight. I personally feel like I’ve been waiting on my dreams forever and ever. But I have complete trust in God now that whatever His will is will prosper, and will make me happier than I ever could’ve imagined. He will make a way when there seems to be no way, and He will answer your prayers with a yes – once again, maybe not exactly what you wanted, but even better!


My parents have a sheep ranch, and have so for 18 years. They breed their sheep ewes (aka female sheep) every year. Now the lambs that are born are important. We love the sheep ewes. They’re like your pets, and you raise those mamas and watch them grow up and now that they are mamas, you’re excited for them once they become pregnant. There was this one ewe on this particular year, whose name was Harmony. She was a good ewe, and on the year before this, she had a healthy baby boy. Boys are not as important as girls, not because we don’t love them – because we do – but because we only use them for the 4-H county fair. But they have to be castrated for that and after the summer was over, we have no choice but to sell them. It can be kind of a rough business in that light. But having girls are more important, because you can raise them completely and start breeding them in two years.


So anyway, my sheep ewe, Missy, died after giving birth to a stillborn lamb, as well as another lamb who only lived a couple days. It was heartbreaking for me. Then, a few days later, Harmony gave birth to two stillborn GIRLS. It was absolutely heart-wrenching and at that time, I had such difficulty in trusting in God and understanding why He had let such a terrible thing happen. I was so fearful that we were going to lose our whole flock, or the majority of the lambs. Even half of the lambs. I was just terrified, really. But then, someone told me something very important that made me do a complete 180. He told me that whether it was God’s will for us to lose the entire flock of sheep or lambs or to only lose some of them, it was up to God and His choice. Which, for some people, might make them angry. They may think to themselves, “How can a loving God do such a thing?” But when I heard this, it didn’t make me angry. Instead, it made me incredibly guilty for doubting God’s goodness in my life. It made me realize that what I wanted more than anything at that time wasn’t up to me, but the Creator of the Universe. In the end, it really didn’t matter what any of us did to help the situation. God’s will had to be done no matter what. Just like now, for example, there’s so much evil in the world today and people always find someone to blame. They even blame God. But they shouldn’t even be mad at God. Why? Because God is a god! Not just a god, he’s THE GOD. And He’s the one who created not just us, but every human being, creature, and plant that’s ever lived on this earth! He even cares about the tiniest ant and their families. Now how cool is that!


So if God cares so deeply for us, shouldn’t we give it all to Him and surrender our lives to Him in serving Him? Aside from our needs, we can still pray for what we want, but ultimately, God’s will has to rule. Whether it’s God’s will for you to be a chef or a banker, it’s not up to you, it’s up to God. Whether God wants you to have a baby through conception or adoption, it’s not up to you, it’s up to God. Whether God wants you to live in Arizona or Maine, it’s not up to you, it’s up to God. Your job is pretty simple, really. You just need to pour your heart out to God in prayer, do your part in it as well as you can, such as sending our resumes, researching whatever you need to do, etc. But don’t help God. Don’t step into something with both feet without completely praying about it first, to make sure it aligns perfectly with God’s will. Then, let it all go and surrender it over to God. Not only that, but TRUST God with the outcome. Whatever He plans for us is always good (Romans 8:28), and He always comes through for us. ALWAYS.


I hope this blog post gave you encouragement, and I hope it will give you something to think about. Feel free to comment below to share your own stories! 🙂



What Made Me a Writer~

3 April 2018


Hello everyone,


Once upon a time, I was twelve years old on a bright summer’s day. I wasn’t your average twelve year old, though. I had one friend who had just moved away that summer. I didn’t consider myself as very outgoing, and in fact, I was a very quiet and shy girl. Not unlike the average teenager then and even today, I tried to avoid household and for me, barn chores wherever possible. To normal outgoing teenagers who spent a lot of time at lakes, going swimming, or with hanging out with friends as often as possible, I didn’t prefer any of those options. Instead, I was perfectly content with reading. At that time in my life, I remember reading constantly – novels, magazine articles that piqued my interest, even obituaries. I was starving for knowledge and reading as much as possible was the only solution. When I wasn’t reading, I found random hobbies around the house, such as playing piano, recording songs on a cassette tape of myself singing (embarrasingly enough), and listening to my favorite CDs. Needless to say, if you can’t tell already, I was BORED. Bored, bored, bored. Most of the time, I became so bored that I willingly cleaned and helped my parents out with chores just to avoid the state of boredom. I’d go on walks with the family dog at the time, Pepper, and try to find ways to entertain myself. During the school year, homework obviously filled the bulk of my evenings. But despite that, my imagination was constantly flowing with ideas and the constant urge to do something wonderful and exciting with my time. Something I could use to pass the time and distract myself from how lonely I was, how unexciting I believed my life was, and how starved for attention I was. I needed to constantly do something useful and exciting.


I started reading Sweet Valley High books on the school bus to school and back home. I read and read and read. I thoroughly enjoyed the Sweet Valley High books, because they were filled with endless drama, intrigue, and suspense, not to mention romance. My mom had either a bunch of the little novels on the office bookshelves, and one day, after complete intrigue, I decided to read them.


Those books, I am happy to say, changed my life. These are the books that inspired me enough to be a writer. That summer day that I finished the last of the books in the series was the day I started to become a writer.


When I was at college, I complained to my class advisor that I simply could not get into the Mass Communications degree that I had taken up. I thought for sure that was the degree associated with writing. I kept telling her that I wasn’t enjoying the classes, I wasn’t doing well in them, and I didn’t want to learn any more about news reporting. I was even terrible at the photography classes. I was completely upset. But my minor was in English, and I have no idea why I chose that as my minor. I was completely blind to the fact that the minor I had taken up needed to become my major. When I mentioned to my professor, aka advisor that I really had enjoyed the Creative Writing class I had taken up, she asked me why that was. Gradually, I realized that I had taken on a completely different major than I should have from the very beginning – but as a degree in English (which I am quite proud of by the way), I chose it more so for the freelance writing aspect of it. I didn’t want anyone to tell me what to write or how to write it. I didn’t want anyone to constantly judge my writing – except when it came to literary agents and publishers. I wanted to be a freelance writer & author while retaining a secular job at working in an office, and that’s exactly what I did. So let me back up……


On that summer day, I finished that last Sweet Valley High book, and then thought to myself, I wish I could write a book. Well, friends, that’s what started it all. I started writing novels in notebooks at first before eventually converting to a computer and saving my stories on floppy disks! (Remember those?) And the very first book I started was called, “Life with Guarding Angels,” which is now called, “The Dead Sister”. It is essentially revolved around a love triangle that causes the guy of the love triangle to end up in prison for eight years.


Being a writer has taught me so many things. In 2014, I got accepted at a publishing company that later ripped me off two years later – so then, I learned the secret to doing much more thorough research of sending material to such companies. Send to literary agents instead. Through both college and personal experience, I’ve received countless letters from fellow authors, have learned how to have a website and how to maintain it, and the pros and cons that follow the world of writing. But I would never give up on it for the world. I love my writing talent that God has so richly blessed me with and I would never trade it for anything in the world.


This blog post today should inspire all of you to remain vigilant to your own passions, hobbies, and desires, not to mention your dreams. DO NOT EVER GIVE UP ON ANY ONE OF THEM EVER!!! God has blessed you with such things, and HE is the one who should daily be praised and thanked for such wonderful things in your life 🙂 My friends, I have loved my writing journey, and I plan to continue it the rest of my life, no matter where it leads me and no matter what setbacks come up along the way. 🙂


What will you do with your talents & dreams? Never give them up. Never.


I hope everyone had a happy and fun Easter. God bless and take care.



The Magic Suitcase: Marilyn: Chapters 1-2

Hello everyone,


Due to the fact that Part 2 of my book series will not be published, every week I will be posting two chapters of the book until its completion. Enjoy! 🙂



The town of Brunner, England was not much to be entertained. Instead, it became a pathetic municipality, one in which Marilyn James rarely partook of, since she spent most time at her family’s estate where Mother wanted her. Although its surrounding mountainous landscapes were breathtaking, it was a deception, a never-ending trap where nightmares grew even scarier by the night.

As a child, she had loved gazing out the window as she held a cold cloth to the latest bruise her father had placed upon her, but studying the stars and the moon. A few times she’d been lucky enough to see the northern lights. Watching God’s creation perform such beautiful art upon the sky had been magnificent to watch. It kept her awake at night sometimes, but if she her parents fought, it couldn’t be helped. Her parents were very wealthy. They lived in a gigantic manor, although not one servant said a word outside the house about the horrors that grew from within.

The nightmares had begun when her mother had been pregnant with Marilyn. One day, tormented with the grief over his mother’s death, which he’d read in a letter that day, Father had gone off into town, only to return enraged and drunk. He’d been loud enough to wake all of the servants—and scared them too as soon as they’d comprehended the depth of his violence, throwing furniture and also scaring his wife and daughter.

Curious, small Marilyn had come out of her room to see what was bothering Father. Father spun from his vomit on the floor toward her tiny footsteps, remembered how he and his wife had never planned for children,

of the difficult time his wife had during childbirth with her and how she’d

almost died. He’d remembered a lot of things about his past, including about

his dear mother and how he missed her so.

Then, he’d twisted toward her and swung a giant fist. Hours later, Marilyn had awaken in her bedroom, a maid by her side, coaxing her to sleep and comforting her with lullabies.

These beatings had happened only a few times. But because of them, whatever relationship her and Mother had had vanished sometime after the first punch, the first curse word beneath his breath, and his first threat of how he’d wished his own daughter had been born dead.

As Marilyn grew up, walking through the front gardens of her parents’ estate, she sometimes wished she had been born dead. Maybe then her life would feel as if it truly mattered. Although her father had stopped drinking sometime around her adolescent years, only because his doctors had warned him about his health, she still could not love him. After every trip into big cities, he came home bearing a gift for his timid daughter who never came downstairs when he was home, no matter how her mother demanded that she join them.

Why should she when being around a family she showed absolute no care for?

After countless educational studies with her governess, Marilyn had daydreamed and planned of one day leaving the estate and never coming back. She’d imagined changing her name and becoming invisible to the world. What kept her back would become the fear of her family’s reaction once they found her missing.

If that happened, what would her father do? Would he beat her until she remained injured for months?

Her mother never cared for her. So how could she ever help her?

As for Marilyn, she preferred reading, such as the Bible, which was first in her list of books. She also enjoyed painting canvases, walking, and finding her own adventures. She went alone, because the servants, her only friends at home, were forbidden to escape the premises unless to do work. She rather enjoyed it. She was her own best friend, and during one of these outings, she found a church, and had learned the truth of the Gospel. She’d gotten baptized for the forgiveness of sins at the rural church of Christ afterward, against her parents’ wishes.

She drew sketches and painted pictures of the land surrounding her and how it benefited her. She respected God’s beauty for its true and welcoming nature, and also slid herself into the exciting pages of her latest book from the estate’s library. The only other thing that made her most afraid, aside from her parents discovering her gone if she ran away from home, was the curious question of Marilyn’s future. Mother planned for her daughter to marry—not by love, of course, which had been her misfortune—but through an arranged marriage. Soon, Marilyn reminded herself with a sigh as she sat beneath the shade of the estate’s gazebo, her favorite place in all the estate, she would be in an arranged marriage she did not want whatsoever.

Among the dinner parties Mother forced her to attend with her, Marilyn either read or stared outside the window in longing, trying to ignore the excited talk her mother had about marrying off her only daughter.

“What about Henry Jackson?” one woman had mentioned one evening in the parlor of one of these parties. “I hear he’s quite the ladies’ man. He comes from a wealthy and respectable family, as well as that he is quite good-looking. What a perfect man to fire up sweet Marilyn’s timidity.”

At hearing this, Marilyn glanced at Mother expectantly, who peered over at her and crooked an eyebrow. “I’ll say, let’s invite him and his family to dinner one night this week.”

“Lovely,” Marilyn whispered, pretending to look impressed in front of the ladies, but once they turned away to their tea, she shot her mother with a glare.

Mother only smiled back. She did not care about her daughter’s opinions. Marilyn would be out of the house within the year and that would be it.

That night, Marilyn cried herself to sleep. She didn’t want to marry a man she didn’t even know. After reading books of lovestruck couples throughout the years, she’d decided she’d only ever marry for love. It had not mattered that Mother had called him a “good Christian man” on the carriage ride home, not that she had read the Bible to know what being a Christian meant. An arranged marriage didn’t include being married for love. Love had nothing to do with an arranged marriage. She didn’t want to live a simple licensed life where she shared a mansion and a bed with someone who cared for her as little as she cared for him.

But her hands were helpless in this situation. No matter how hard she could fight her mother or how hard she prayed to the Lord, in her mother’s eyes, it needed to happen. She had no choice, but to be stuck in this arranged marriage with Henry Jackson.

As tears hit her pillow, Marilyn distinguished this as the first night in a long time where she desired to die more than anything. Her whole life had been a nightmare. Except on her adventurous walks and reads away from the house, along with all of her prayers to God, Marilyn had never known true peace. The maids’ kindness didn’t seem good enough. She needed simple compassion, true love, a committed relationship and bond she’d never known before, where she would be cherished and truly cared for forever. In an arranged marriage, there was a great possibility of her husband being with other women aside from her.

Did she want to live a life of misery?

Marilyn realized she had no choice. Henry Jackson and his parents would be at the dinner the following evening, a meal that only began one of the many arranged events ahead. She had to participate in this dreaded wedding as well. She had no way out. She could beg and plead her mother. She could even run away from home.

But in the end, pain and hurt would always find her, would peer back at her through the mirror. All Marilyn had ever known was pain, and if this arranged marriage ended up as lost as her own parents’ marriage, then she would no doubt be miserable for the rest of her life.






The following evening during dinner, Marilyn picked at her vegetables on her plate, trying to ignore her parents’ casual conversation with Henry Jackson’s parents. She avoided the fact that Henry had been staring at her throughout the meal—the long and tiring meal of appetizers, salads, entrees, and desserts. She couldn’t look him straight in the eye, and she did not want to, either. She didn’t want to see her future husband as a stranger.

Marilyn couldn’t stop looking at her parents, however. She might be rude—in her mother’s opinion—for staring—at them, instead of the guests, where it might be understandable to stare at them. But her mother and father were not being themselves. They never were when they had guests, which was rare. They acted as if they had no family troubles, no quarrels, no anger, and she despised every part of it.

She could remember a day when the family fights and quarrels had been quite enough. Having endured a sleepless night of hearing it, a three-years younger Marilyn sat in her usual spot inside the garden gazebo. Its white canopy enveloped over her in safety, and she felt secure, but yet perplexed upon the horrors at home. Why did Mother and Father have to curse each other and fight so much? What were they even arguing about? It seemed like any small discussion nowadays brought either her mother or her father to give out one cross, unkind word toward the other, and then, a battle erupted.

Confused on this early afternoon of cloudiness and desperate frustration, instead of bringing herself to paint her canvas, Marilyn sank in her seat, mulling over these terrible events in her life. Then, Harriet Milberg, the oldest maid of the estate, came over at the clothesline which sat next to the gazebo, along with Maisie Carter, another house maid who was in her forties. However, Maisie was still beautiful. She’d always been the quietest servant the estate had, never speaking unless spoken to. The other maid, Charlotte Kennedy, Harriet, the cooks, butler, and the rest of the servants were quite outgoing. However, Maisie didn’t said a word to anyone in the estate. If she did, there were few words said.

Harriet and Maisie both heaved down two big baskets of laundry, and greeted poor Marilyn with an understanding smile as Harriet began taking out and hanging up each article of clothing, one by one. Maisie, on the other hand, in charge of washing the rest of the laundry, smiled over at Marilyn before heading back toward the house.

Harriet, the poor old woman, would be dead from a heart attack a year and a half later. But she was a frail, older woman. She had, however, been with the family longer than Marilyn had been alive. She’d been the first help Mother and Father had hired once they’d settled into the estate, however Marilyn did not discover any of this until that day.

They didn’t speak for a long moment—Marilyn, staring at her blank canvas, pondering both her family life and what to paint in general today—and Harriet, gradually slowing down at hanging up the clothes.

“I know you’re sad about last night, my child,” Harriet said then, after a wary glance toward the estate’s huge mansion. She hung up clothes a lot slower this time, as if intending to say quite a few things by doing so, and if she didn’t work, Marilyn’s mother might see from one of the windows and have a fit.

“What makes you say that?” Marilyn smiled, glancing up at Harriet. Her sixteen-year old self had still been stubborn then, now and again playing mischief with the maids and manservants, and then paying for it later. Not like her mother noticed how she sat down at the gazebo anyway. The gazebo sat under a big oak tree in the center of the estate, causing Marilyn to be hidden from the big house’s tormenting view.

“All of us witnessed it as well.” Harriet shook her head with dismay. “It’s an utter shame, I tell you, and such a huge disappointment. I used to tell the girls—the other maids, that is—about how my heart was crushed after all of this first happened when your folks were mere newlyweds.”

“You were there when they were first married?” Marilyn asked, shocked. Of everything she understood about the hired help, she’d never imagined that any of them would even dare to be there in the way beginning.

“Why, of course, my dear.” Harriet paused from her work, and tossed her a wink. “I knew both of them when they were cordial to us hired help. I was the first to be hired before everyone else came along.”

Marilyn raised her eyebrows, set down her paintbrush, and then grinned. “Really! Do tell more.”

Finally, as if unable to hold it back any longer but with a wary look over her shoulder now and then, Harriet told the long version of the story of how she came to live at the estate. The first day Wesley and Zelda James strode through their brand new home, arm in arm, all smiles, Harriet greeted them at the door first. Zelda hurried over to Harriet, grabbed her arms, and hugged her, proclaiming over and over her excitement to have a maid in their first home, to have someone to be there in the big lonely mansion aside from the two of them. This proclamation had caused Wesley to chuckle, waving a hand and saying: “How could it be lonely when there’s so much love in the house?”

Harriet expressed their happy first year of marriage, how they would go on romantic walks together or even picnics. She admitted with a blush how she’d sometimes stop her cleaning, along with the other maids who were new at the time, to watch them. She fell in love with the beauty of their friendship, their love, the way Wesley touched Zelda’s cheek with such gentleness and true love, rarest that could ever be found, and how tenderly he kissed her. How they had gazed at each other had been both rare and true in every aspect except one. Harriet admitted in a ginger voice of how sad this relationship was that it could not carry true love now. If it ever did, both people may have had the strength to endure what occurred next.

A telegram came to the estate one morning. Harriet remembered bringing it to Wesley, and she remembered this moment as the last time she would see Wesley James so happy, at peace, and contrite. If Harriet had known the words within that telegram, she would’ve never given it to him, for it would be the single thing that destroyed him. Harriet remembered walking upstairs as he opened it, but once she’d gotten to the top, a loud, piercing wail echoed over the walls of the estate, and she’d froze.

The “No!” had escaped from Wesley’s lips as he’d crumbled to the floor of his office, and where both Harriet and Zelda found him. Zelda rushed to his side, demanding what happened, but he’d been curled up on the floor like a child, wailing like a baby. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and Harriet’s heart had stopped, her own emotions coming over her. After tugging the wretched telegram from her husband’s grip, Zelda read it and then read it over again, her lips moving without sound.

Wesley’s parents, Cuthbert and Isabella James, had both died in a shipwreck only days before. All of the family’s fortune would now go to their only child, but Wesley had not cared about a single cent. He hadn’t cared for his workaholic father in whom he’d seldom seen growing up. It hadn’t been until his father retired that the man had apprehended how he’d been a terrible father, but Wesley’s dear mother had forgiven her husband the same. Knowing this terrible news, Wesley did not care that his own father’s death. His grief continued on the loss of his mother. His mother had been his dearest friend growing up, his only love before Zelda had come into his life, and his truest companion.

Isabella had been an actress and a storyteller in England growing up, after being an orphan on the streets. The only way she could find herself and create her own life was to act, sing, and tell stories. Her fame rose in London; everyone watching her had loved her, but not as much as Wesley had. He’d even promised her that he and Zelda would visit her every year, or however often they could, as long as he and his mother shared and maintained the same strong bond.

Zelda had not cared for Isabella as much as Wesley. She’d loved her in-laws, but she’d seen Isabella as a mother’s hovering way of trying to protect her one and only baby. Out of jealousy, Zelda had, without Wesley’s notice, shielded him from loving his own mother far more than his own wife. Maybe, Harriet reckoned, Wesley had known about his wife’s jealousy for his and his mother’s relationship, and assumed Zelda didn’t understand. Perhaps these things had caused the horrors at home. But whatever the case, Wesley had locked away any chosen happiness in the deep chambers of darkness that had taken over his heart.

Harriet remembered waking up in the middle of the night mere weeks after Wesley’s parents’ deaths, hearing Zelda going into her husband’s office and pleading with him to come to bed with her. The more he refused, the angrier he became. He became even more livid the more Zelda went into his office every evening and asked him the same question. Soon she would stop coming to ask altogether, and Harriet had pitied her and the rot their marriage had developed. He shouldn’t have let his grief affect him that way, and yet, the loss of a loved one made some people act bizarre.

For months, Wesley sat hidden in his office, appearing only for the evening meals. Zelda would be so overjoyed to see him, she rushed over to him and shower kisses and hugs upon him, but he pushed her away and chastened her for coming near him in the first place. One time he even snapped at the servants for eavesdropping. Zelda would ask Wesley why he was so sad, and remind him the importance of how he needed to move on, and attempted to comfort him, but all to no avail.

Until one night, Harriet and all the other servants awoke to hear loud commotion from inside the master and mistress’s bedroom upstairs. Wesley had decided to return to his and Zelda’s bedroom—but not with happiness. Harriet still cringed at remembering the pleas, the screams coming from Zelda’s lungs, and then Wesley’s furious replies. He beat her a lot that night, so much so that by the time the servants found her the next morning, she was near death, shaking, and terrified of her husband.

Harriet remarked that poor Zelda had fallen out of love with her husband that night. Later, Harriet learned that Zelda had been two months pregnant with Marilyn while enduring this beating.

All the grief Wesley carried had built up into his body so much that he found Zelda as an easy target, a woman who’d been jealous of his and his mother’s relationship. He’d started drinking too, and the more he drank, the angrier he became. No abuse had been as bad as the first night, due in part to Zelda beginning to fight back. Soon the abuse they had toward each other became not only physical, but also verbal and emotional. It turned into a regular event, and it occurred so often that Marilyn’s mind got used to the fighting, and she found sleep with ease anyway.

Harriet stopped then, and said: “My dear, I know why your mother treats you with cruelty,” and after hearing everything she had so far, Marilyn understood now as well.

The night that Zelda went into labor with Marilyn, she begged for the doctor to take Marilyn away and bury her alive once she’d been delivered. These had been very difficult words to hear, however Marilyn had also assumed all of these things. Zelda had wanted to be a mother before the abuse. However, afterward, having a child meant more torture than Zelda wanted to be faced with. She then changed her mind, did not want to have the responsibility being a mother brought, not even of naming her own daughter. She hated her labor pains, and it worsened so much that it took days before Harriet could convince Zelda how she needed to nurse Marilyn, in whom Harriet had named Marilyn Elizabeth James. After knowing all about Wesley’s past and why he’d become such a different person, Harriet still couldn’t stop respecting him. She didn’t like how he treated his wife and daughter or the fact that he drank and had turned his life around. But for who he had once been, she did admire that.

By this time, Harriet finished with hanging up the clothes, and Marilyn couldn’t help but tell her thank you for telling the truth about her parents. Now she understood why her mother despised her so. She also understood why her father had sometimes hit her as a child.

Now, as Marilyn studied her father’s face, cordial with these guests and pretending he was a happily married father, she couldn’t help but pity him after feeling such large resentment toward both him and Mother all of these years. She couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for her mother, however, no matter how hard she tried.

Sometime after Harriet had passed on, Marilyn found Mother in the kitchen ordering the cooks around. When she’d glanced up to see her daughter standing in the doorway, she didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, she’d demanded: “Well?”

“Mother…” Marilyn had sighed. “I wanted to let you know I’m truly sorry that you’re so unhappy. I wish I had been there to make things right for you.”

Her mother had seemed surprised at first. Marilyn had surprised herself for her boldness in saying such words. Courage had never been her strongest suit.

But Mother had closed off any emotion on her face, and had said in a clipped tone: “No. You do not.” Then, she’d left the kitchen, causing Marilyn to wonder what her mother had meant.

Marilyn imagined herself within her mother’s shoes. Here sat Zelda at this dinner table across from her husband and feeling such wrath for the man at the same time. There they were, making pleasant conversation with perfect strangers to get rid of their only daughter to a strange man, and their only child a grown woman in whom Zelda had never loved or ever even wanted to love in the first place.

As Marilyn stared at her half-empty plate in wild shock at all of the torment and terrible things going on around her and from this terrible family, she decided she’d had enough. For the first time in her life, she did not want to stay strong and force her way through another disaster in silence. Despite the fact that she felt Henry’s curious gaze on her, she did not care about being impolite or the fact that she may create the worst scene imaginable.

The tables needed to be turned to try to show her parents the kind of woman she had become.

“….we very much look forward to seeing your son’s cottage some time.” Mother’s voice sounded cheery, and she glanced at her daughter, as if noticing for the first time that her daughter hadn’t been listening for the entire meal. “Aren’t we, Marilyn, dear?”

Marilyn glowered at her mother’s face. Every pair of eyes locked on her in happy curiosity of whatever she might’ve said.

But nobody expected what happened next.

Standing up, she threw her napkin on the table, and beheld her mother’s shocked gaze. “No! No! Absolutely not! Mother, I refuse to marry this man and be a part of an extravaganza that’s wrong, the kind that brought you and Father to such an unhappy state, the one thing tearing apart each and every day! Father ruined all of our lives for good because of his drunkenness and mistaken jealousy his pathetic wife had felt—”

“Marilyn!” Mother exclaimed in surprise, but Marilyn hadn’t finished.

“I refuse to marry a man who doesn’t love me because I do not love him, having just met him, and I no longer want to play a role in the misery you and Father have created within this family! I’m finished! Do you hear me? I no longer want to be under your command!” She coughed an “excuse me” and as she disappeared from the room, Marilyn noted something funny.

All of the servants standing in obedience against the dining room wall wore pleased smiles on their faces as she left.

The Importance of Querying Only Literary Agents

March 3, 2017

Hello everyone,

Writing, like other hobbies, is an art that takes time, practice, devotion, love and, perhaps, even an education to perfect. There are millions of writers all over the world, thousands upon thousands of books. You can read a book in print, or by your Kindle or Nook. You can read it online. You can do all sorts of writing-related activities, similar to an artist. An artist can be a painter by simple sketchbooks, or by a paintbrush, whereas a writer can be one from any genre that is out there. But once that perfect poem, novella, or novel is written and deep inside your heart, your truest desire is to be published and for the world to see your unique work – that right there is when you know your work is as perfect as it can be. It is the truest image of yourself that you can give. It took your heart and soul, sleepless nights, and every  breath of your body to create that work. You made sacrifices with this work that you never thought you’d ever have to do. Aside from God, your family, friends, and your job, it is the most important thing in the world to you.

Then, in a blink of an eye, it’s suddenly gone. Vanished. The piece of history you worked so hard for in sweat and tears, is no more.

I’ve been a writer since twelve years old when I first picked up a notebook and pen and decided to write. Dozens and dozens of notebooks later, I typed them up in the computer. But back then, I was naïve and didn’t realize, until college, the steps that needed to be took to publish. Now, I understand those steps even more, but recently, I made a mistake in judgment that I’ll never make again, causing me to realize the pain and deep disappointment life brings if, as a writer, you do not submit to literary agents.

There are scammers out there who don’t care at all about your book, but literary agents are not that way. They are the ones you must go to not first, but ONLY when submitting your manuscript, poem, etc. They’re the ones you should only query. You edit your work in three ways: through grammar, spelling, and punctuation; through revising sentences and making sure all the facts in the book are correct; then, finally, through making sure the overall book makes sense as a whole. Then, you perfect the query letter and synopsis by making sure the hook of the book stands out and is eye-catching and without using any cliché sentences. Once you are ready to submit to an agent, go onto and do so. You research what genre your work places into, and then search for a literary agent who only is interested in such genres.

You do NOT, and I repeat, NOT submit to publishing companies first.

Publishing companies such as Little Brown Co, Scholastic, and other big popular companies are magnificent and prefer literary agents to come to them. They will not accept unsolicited manuscripts, which means without agent representation, which is perfect, because it prevents you from being ripped off. If you submit to a small publishing company apart from literary agent representation, you are at risk at getting scammed and heartbroken. There may be small publishing companies out there who are legitimate, but how can you know for sure unless you risk your entire life’s work to find out? A literary agent keeps you from being scammed and helps you become published; that is their sole purpose. Literary agents are awesome. They are your best friend when it comes to getting published; after you are accepted by them, of course. But once you are, they take good care of you. They constantly keep you in the loop as to what is going on with your book. They make sure your book gets the best service you can possibly imagine. They accept your book, because they believe in it as much as you do, and for them, it’s not about the money or promoting a business. It’s simply about serving the author and helping to publish a book destined for the world to read.

Authors don’t pay a cent when it comes to publishing. The agents and publishing companies promote your book for you. They take care of you. They put your book in print right away. If they have a release date promise for a book, they keep it and never postpone it. They do an excellent service to the author and are their ultimate guard dog. Read my lips: they take wonderful care of you.

Don’t be so desperate to get your book published that you self-publish or else risk your entire life’s work for companies who may not even take care of you. They may say that they do when you first walk in, but you never know on whether or not they’re truly trustworthy unless you risk it. You DESERVE to be taken care of by publishing companies who WILL help you get published, but that can ONLY come through literary agents! Literary agents help you become published and successful. Don’t give up. Trust in the literary agents, and perfect your writing work and query letter in such a way for that to happen. Then, once you are accepted, the hardest work is over and you’ll be on your way to a beautiful writing career as an author.

Fight your entire heart and soul for your cherished work. That’s what you truly deserve is respect and honesty, and the devil is fluently involved in destroying it otherwise. No matter what anyone ever says or does, your treasured work is perfect and incredibly worth a literary agent who will take care of it with every bone in their body. God has blessed you with this talent of writing, painting, etc not to see it go to waste, but to bring you to a career that you will love and adore the rest of your life – all because you made the right decision and chose literary agent representation.

Happy Writing! 🙂 Have a good March, everyone 🙂


Print Version Coming Soon!!!!

Print Version Coming Soon!!!!

Hello everyone! 🙂


Guess what?! I just received word a couple days ago that my YA fantasy novel, “THE MAGIC SUITCASE: MARTHA” will be available for POD (print on demand) purchase to order them in print NEXT WEEK!!!!!! Next week my all-time dream of having a published print book will come true!! I am so excited!!


Amazon will be the place to order the books, and then they will be sent to your house in print form. They even added some surprise and very cool additions to the print version of the book which I am totally excited about. I will keep you all posted the exact date to order them, how much they will be, and the website url to order them from. Also, once I get a copy for myself, I will try to get Barnes and Noble to market it in their stores as well.


If you have any questions, please let me know. I am so excited for you all to share this wonderful momentum with me! Thank you for all of your support! God bless you all 🙂


Have a good week! Talk to you all soon 🙂



A Must-Read for Graduates

A Must-Read for Graduates

Hello everyone,


I love the song, “Letter to Me” by Brad Paisley. Except for one lyric in the beginning, it’s pretty spot-on as far as telling your younger self to not worry or be afraid, that everything will come out right in the end. Makes me wish I could’ve read a letter of my twenty-seven year old self to myself at age sixteen or seventeen, when I was worrying about stuff I’m not concerned about anymore. It really makes you think about how precious life is, that life really isn’t about worrying or being afraid, and doing so doesn’t get you very far in life. It all comes out well in the end in accordance with God’s divine will.


It’s been ten years this year now since I’ve been a high school graduate, and six years since I’ve been a college graduate. Therefore, since it is the month of May, I will write a letter instead to all of those graduates for this month, and I encourage you all to share this with someone you know who is graduating from high school, college, or a higher degree this month. I know I’m only 27, but by now I’ve learned a lot and enough where I can essentially give some great advice to those graduates way younger than I am.


Dear Graduates:


What you’re worried about right now won’t matter. Are you wanting that graduation day to go well and smoothly? Don’t worry. Are you wishing that guy or girl to notice you? Don’t worry. Are you wanting nothing but to make your parents proud? Don’t worry. Because it’ll all work out fine in the end.


High school graduates: college isn’t about partying and having the time of your life. It isn’t about getting straight A’s. It’s about striving to do your best, discover who you truly are, and making your college career one that you will never regret. In college, don’t worry so much about dating. Don’t worry, period. Focus on doing well in college and enjoying your career, and then, everything else will fall into place. Choose a major that will not only make you happy, but where you will enjoy your classes, because college should all be about that. If you enjoy your classes, you’ll appreciate your professors. And if you appreciate your professors, you’ll get more and more excited about your major. But this is very important: research everything you can about the major. Does it excite you? Or is it only something that will pay the bills? Go to college for your true passion and love in life. Don’t go for something that may fit well with somebody else. Also, you will have a combination of good and bad dorm roommates. Seek out the good in the bad roommates, because after all, there is good in all people, and despite your limited space, one day you’re sometimes going to wish you were still in college studying for finals and such instead of facing the real world.


College graduates: that graduation day was great, wasn’t it? It sure was. The speeches, the degree in your hands, the thought that it’s time to start job searching for a career in your degree you now have. Surprise yourself with the passions that you have, and if you are unsure, trust me, it’s okay to find a career that you didn’t go to school for. People will ask you why you made that choice of a job that you have, and why you’re not finding a job in your degree. Ignore these people, or tell them that you enjoy what you do, and your degree will help you get into all kinds of jobs, because employers love college degrees. Even if you have a college degree in science and decide to be something completely different, it’s okay. Find a career that excites you and that you enjoy. If it’s within your degree, great. If it’s not, don’t worry about it. Life is all about discovering your passions in life, and if you have a job that you love and that pays the bills, nothing else matters.


Choose a spouse who will make a good mate, who will bring out the best in you. Let them get to know you to the point where they know you better than you know your own self, but it’ll benefit you incredibly. Make sure they love you unconditionally, and let the man be the Christian leader of the home and family breadwinner. Don’t think that you need to change them, because you never will. Accept their flaws if they have any, and learn to love every part of your spouse’s heart, body, mind, and soul. Fall in love with each other all over again every day, and do little things for them that will make them smile or make their day. Make sure you talk about all important decisions: family, children, careers, etc. BEFORE you marry. Marriage is all about sacrifices, but more than that, it’ll be the best decision you’ll ever make.


Adopt a pet to change their life. Volunteer, and find hobbies you believe you won’t like. If you end up liking them, it’ll be a blessing. If you don’t, it’ll be a learning experience. But all in all, in the busyness of life, don’t forget your parents and grandparents. Call them and talk to them as often as you can. Make sure you always end with an “I love you,” because we are never guaranteed tomorrow. They will age faster when you are busy in the worries of life, and before you know it, they’re gone. So appreciate them while you have them here with you. Nothing is important as making sure you keep constant contact with those loved ones. Yes, your career and family is important. But don’t forget about them, for they were the ones who brought you life.


Make sure to enjoy your life, and appreciate every day the blessings God gives you. Oh, and most importantly, above all things, learn to read and study the Bible every day. Focus on the words God gives you, and discover what they really mean. Let go of everything else and become a born-again Christian. Obey the Gospel. God is holding you by the hand; he will lead you through the trials of life and always be your greatest Friend. Count on him and trust Him deeply, for He will never let you down.


Best of luck, Graduates 🙂