The Freaked Psychic - pt8 of personal paranormal stories

The Freaked Psychic

By Dana Davis

While working in Hollywood in 1980s, a crew member and I were chatting. Somehow we got on the subject of the paranormal. She told me about her gift as a psychic and I told her about my great grandmother’s sister, who was a medium back in the early part of the twentieth century. I was curious about her and conversation when something like this:

“So, how does it work for you?” I asked.

“I get impressions when I hold a personal item. Would you like me to do a reading for you?

“Sure. I'd love it.” I fished my car keys out of my pocked and handed them to her.

She held them for a moment and closed her eyes. “I’m getting a name that begins with A.”

I stayed quiet but I was thinking, Yeah, right. Like that’s a stretch. But she wasn’t through with me, yet.

“I see the two of you in the same house or apartment. A close friend or sister maybe.” Then she proceeds to give me a description and says the actual name.

Now, I had never mentioned my friend and former roommate to anyone on set and this woman was spot-on with the description and the name. I thanked her, then told her about my friend, her name, her description, and that we were once roommates. She looked freaked and handed me back my keys as though they had suddenly caught fire.

“What’s wrong?” I thought I had done something to offend her.

“I’ve never been that accurate before. Not ever. It has something to do with you.”

She had my full attention. “Really? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

She acted odd around me, distant, the rest of our working time together and didn’t seem to want to talk to me about the paranormal again. I didn’t push. I never learned why she was so freaked out, especially since she claimed to be a psychic and had approached me about doing a reading. Just another occurrence to add to my list of paranormal oddities.

The Most Common Questions I Receive about Writing

A lot of people are curious about writers, though we're not all that fascinating. Really, we're not. Imagine a camera set up in a home office. Now envision a person sitting at a computer typing, thinking, looking stuff up, typing, a trip to the bathroom, more typing, lunch break, more thinking and typing. Not exactly Oscar material. :) But I thought I'd share some of the questions I receive most often, along with my answers.

Q: Where do you get your ideas?

A: Everywhere. I know that's a trite answer but it's true. I get ideas from dreams, writing exercises, music, art, nature, watching people and listening to conversations going on around me in public. Yep, that's right, I'm an eavesdropper. You never know what people are going to say in public and sometimes you can get a real gem for a story from overheard conversations. Gotta love people who talk on cell phones in public. I've heard some real doozies. And if I'm in a bad mood, woe to the person who cuts me off in traffic or gets in the express lane with a full cart. He/she might just find a place in one of my books. And it ain't gonna be pretty. :)

Q: Do you still take classes/workshops?

A: Yeah, yep and a big ole YES! Writing is a solitary career and as much as I enjoy being a hermit, I get out once in a while to meet with other writers and challenge myself. There's a great energy that fills a room full of creative people. In fact, several of my books got their seeds from class exercises. And there's nothing like fellow writers to offer support and guidance. Some are going through what I'm going through, others have been there and can offer valuable advice.

Q: Which authors do you enjoy reading?

A: Okay, you asked for it. Kelley Armstrong, Orson Scott Card, David Eddings, S. L. Farrell, Jasper Fforde, Maggie Furey, Neil Gaiman, Mary Gentle, Terry Goodkind, Tara K. Harper, Kim Harrison, Elizabeth Haydon, Robert Jordan, Elizabeth Kerner, Caitlin R. Kiernan, Ursula LeGuin, Morgan Llewellyn, Anne McCaffrey, Andre Norton, Edgar Allan Poe, Philip Pullman, Alastair Reynolds, Anne Rice, J. R. R. Tolkein, Robert Charles Wilson, and many others. I also read books on writing, publishing, science, Celtic cultures, American Indian cultures, and ancient civilizations, especially when I'm doing research for a book. I'm a family detective - meaning I do genealogy - so I also read books that pertain to that. My reading list gets longer every year.

Q: Do you write everyday?

A: I try very hard to keep to a regular work schedule. Life and classes can get in the way, of course, but I do keep to a schedule most weekdays. I don't usually write on weekends or holidays, except to jot down notes about a current project. Those days are for my husband and me to play, or for the occasional appearance or speaking engagement. I keep note pads around the house and in my purse and car so I can write down ideas as they come. Otherwise, I'd forget them by the time I planted my butt in my office chair.

Q: Do you keep a private journal?

A: I tried keeping a diary as a kid, since a lot of girls were into that, but I bored myself to death. When I started writing fiction to spice it up, I knew it was time to toss it. I currently have a writing blog and I keep a dream journal. I've kept track of my dreams since the early 1980s. My sleep world is one active place and I get story ideas from dreams.

Q: Were you always a writer or did you have other careers/jobs?

A: Well, I was always writing something, sometimes really bad somethings. But career-wise, I started out in the entertainment industry. I worked in that industry from childhood until about thirty. Which, for a lot of us, meant taking on additional jobs to help pay the bills. Jobs I've had over the years: actress, dancer, stand-in, photo double, theatre and dance director/instructor, Disneyland performer, dance studio assistant, library page, teachers' assistant, pre-school teacher, greeting card merchandiser, artificial flower warehouse arranger (gotta love that one), receptionist, file clerk, retail clerk/cashier, envelope stuffer, pizza delivery driver, and waitress. Whew! I'm tired just typing that!

Q: What do you do about writer's block?

A: Actually, I've never had writer's block and I don't believe in it. I believe I can get hung up on details or have so many ideas I'm not sure where to go next. But if I find myself taking too long with a particular aspect of a project, I simply shift my attention to another writing project for a while, take a walk, work out, or clean house. That always works for me.

Q: Would you read my stuff and give me comments?

A: Well, unfortunately, I have to say no. Writing is a full-time job and I'm darned busy. I suggest looking into your local area for writing workshops and classes. Recreation departments, adult education, colleges, universities and libraries often have many great offerings for writers of all levels. Also, you can find workshops online, especially if you write genre material like I do. Look around - you don't have to spend a lot of money to find a good class.

Q: I have an idea for a book, would you write it for me?

A: See the answer to the previous question. You could also take classes to hone your writing skills or simply hire a ghost writer. There are many in the industry looking for work. Good luck with your endeavors.

Q: I read in your bio that you have Meniere's Disease. What is that?

A: Meniere's an inner ear disorder that causes bouts of vertigo, dizziness, vomiting, tinnitus, balance problems, and gradual hearing loss. Famous people with Meniere's include, astronaut Alan Shepard, actress Kristen Chenoweth, singers Peggy Lee and Ryan Adams, poet/writer Emily Dickinson, and some speculate Vincent VanGogh had it. Some people in the past were misdiagnosed with epilepsy but actually had inner ear problems.

I'm always open to answering questions, so if you have one of your own that isn't listed here, feel free to leave a comment and I'll get back to you asap.

You Know You're a Writer When...Hump Day Fun!

1. You always think of the perfect snarky thing to say - five minutes after the fact.

2. A woman cuts in line at the grocery store and instead of getting mad, you study her body language and clothes for that annoying character you’ve been trying to write.

3. You catch an argument at a local restaurant and wonder how you can work it into your next scene.

4. At a store, you discreetly follow the talking-loudly-on-her-cell-phone-lady, hoping to get something good to put in your novel.

5. Spam gives you story ideas.

6. You wish you could re-wind that fender bender to see the details of how it happened. You’ve got a similar scene to write in an upcoming book.

7. A guy flips you off on the freeway for no reason and you think, Yes! He’s the perfect one to kill/maim/torture in your next book, so you devise his shady life on the way to your destination.

8. You’re stuck at the airport because of weather, so you get yourself a snack and start people-watching.

9. Someone asks about your last date and you immediately think back to that yummy guy you just finished writing about before realizing he’s fiction.

10. You start quoting slang you invented for your new series before realizing the rest of the world isn’t in on it. Yet.


On a side note - my kindle books are now $2.99. Cheaper than a gallon of gas!
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Note for readers

Just a note to let readers know that my monthly newsletter is now available at http://www.danadaviswriting.com/Monthly%20Newsletter.htm


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Happy reading and enjoy!
Dana

The Invisibles - pt 7 of my personal paranormal stories

The Invisibles

By Dana Davis

Sometimes visions can happen when coming out of the sleep state. They are hypnagogic in nature, when we’re not quite fully awake but no longer asleep, an in-between period when the dream world overlaps with the waking part of our brains. We think we’re actually seeing, hearing, and experiencing these incidents, and since the body is still in sleep paralysis and we can’t move, they can be very frightening.

I’ve experienced hypnagogic episodes, where I’m completely paralyzed and helpless as a presence holds me down in my bed and scares the living bejeebees out of me. I have learned to recognize them. The following incidents didn’t feel the same way. I’m combining several different, yet very similar, episodes in this blog.

The first happened when I was living in Pasadena, California in a tiny apartment back in the 1980s. I was young and didn’t have a lot of money, so my bed was one of those fold-out futon chairs. It was made of thick foam and surprisingly comfortable. I awoke to the feeling that someone sat on the edge of my futon. I could actually feel the movement. I also felt a presence in the room, like someone was watching me. Something brushed my hair from my face. I had no sleep paralysis at all, and I opened my eyes to see an indentation, about the size of an adult’s buttocks, in the futon. I was amazed. As I watched, the dent slowly lifted until it was gone, and the feeling of being watched left as soon as the indentation disappeared. I didn’t feel threatened. Oddly enough, I felt somewhat comforted by it. It was morning and time for me to get up for work and my roommate was still sleeping.

The second incident happened about a year later, when I was spending the night on a friend’s couch. I awoke to soft footsteps coming down the stairs but I was very tired and didn’t open my eyes. I really wanted to sleep longer. I felt the edge of the couch press down as though someone sat on it. Again, I felt a presence in the room, like someone watching me, then a gentle touch brushed hairs from my face. I opened my eyes expecting to see my friend, but I saw no person, just an indention on the edge of the couch beside me. I watched as it lifted as though a person got up. The feeling of someone watching me disappeared and I looked at my watch. It was time for me to get up. My friend was still upstairs asleep.

The third time, was after I was married and I awoke in our apartment bedroom with the feeling someone was watching me. It was morning and light streamed in through the draperies. A woman, not completely solid, wearing a long skirt and a blouse from the late 1800’s stood in front of our window. She was putting on a bonnet. She turned to me and smiled then just disappeared. Again, I didn’t feel threatened.

Incident number four happened in my current home about four or five years ago as I was napping on the couch in the afternoon. Again, felt like I was being watched. This time the indentation and brushing of my hair was accompanied by what sounded like tinkling wind chimes. I felt the indention lift as I opened my eyes but I didn’t see anything. The sensation of being watched didn’t disappear immediately. Instead, I felt a presence for several seconds after I sat up. I asked my husband, who was in another room at the time, if he heard wind chimes. He told me he hadn’t. Curious, I walked outside to see if I could hear any chimes coming from one of our neighbors’ homes. Nope. Nothing.

The fifth and final incident, so far anyway, happened just last year. I awoke in the morning and sat up to get out of bed. To my surprise, I saw a girl about ten or eleven years old, crouched next to my nightstand. Like the last figure I had seen, she wasn’t completely solid. She turned to me and her eyes grew wide. She looked as surprised as I felt. Before I could say anything, she disappeared. I had already been training with my paranormal investigative team by this time, so I immediately ran to the other room for my camera, recorder, and EMF meter. But by the time I had them set up, it was too late. I got nothing on any of them.

I have no explanations for these incidents and no witnesses or evidence. I’m looking forward to another one happening because I hope to get some evidence. So much time happens between them that it’s not practical to set up equipment every night. But if I see a figure in my bedroom again, I plan to do just that and see if I catch anything. Wish me luck.

The Spooky Door - pt 6 of personal paranormal experiences

When it comes to my paranormal experiences, doors tend to play a role. Here’s another one involving - you guessed it - a door.

The Spooky Door

by Dana Davis

It was just before Halloween and my parents had taken my brother, sister and me to visit a family we'd been friends with for several years. They had just bought some land—I believe my dad said it was forty acres—in a rural area and moved an older home onto the property. Their oldest daughter was my age and their son somewhere between my younger brother and sister so we looked forward to this visit.

It had grown dark and Dad was outside with my friend's father, unbeknownst to us kids. We heard rapping at one of the windows and a spooky, ghostly sound. Woooooooo. You know, the eerie kind of sounds ghosts make. Like they have nothing better to do than stand outside windows and moan. You'd think that bright light they're supposed to go into would be a distraction. Anyway, since I was a wise old teenager of fifteen or so at the time, I caught on pretty quick that my dad was the culprit. But the younger kids began screaming and running through the house to find the moms.

Once the women realized what was going on, they promptly chastised the husbands for frightening the children. The men just laughed, of course. We were given snacks and told to stay in another room, with me and my friend in charge of the younger kids.

Whenever my parents had company or were with their adult friends, my mom had a saying that went something like this—“If somebody's not bleeding or passed out, don't bother me.”

Isolation in a separate room away from the adults prompted a flurry of ghost stories and reminiscences of strange incidents from all of us, including bogus tales of a woman who’d died upstairs and walked around her nightgown. White, of course. In case you didn’t know, lady ghosts love to wear white. Okay, I have no idea if that’s true. But I do know that the upstairs had been added after the house was moved to this property so there couldn’t be a lady in white, but that didn’t deter us from telling the story. We got spooked at every sound then would laugh hysterically afterwards. Kind of like when we took my younger sister on her first snipe hunt. But that's another story.

Once it grew late, about midnight, we were told to get ready for bed. The other kids took off and my little sister and I were the only ones in the room. I was helping her pick up books or something. After a couple of minutes, I headed for the door. Someone had left it open about a hand's width and when I reached for the knob, the door closed.

I looked back at my sister and, with a racing heart, said, “Did you see that?”

She nodded, eyes wide.

I turned back, and reached for the knob again. This time, the door opened and the knob pushed right against my palm. No one was on the other side. Now, when things like this happened, I tend to grow curious and try to recreate it or explain it. That didn’t stop the goose pimples from crawling up my spine, though. I carefully let go of the knob and turned to my sister, who had backed herself against the far wall, eyes as wide as saucers and face as white as the paint behind her. She reminded me of a deer caught in headlights, which they had plenty of in this rural area.

I tried not to spook her but I was darn curious by this time. “I'm going to try again.”

She shook her head, no, and I thought she might start to cry. She did that a lot at that age.

“It's all right,” I said. I turned back and reached for the door and, low and behold, it closed again. At this point, my sister was ready to do that cartoon running in place where the feet are mere blurs and then take off like a pistol. So, I smiled and said, "Probably the wind." Though I didn't believe a word of that since no windows or doors were open to the outside. It was chilly outside. “I'll do it one more time.”

I didn't wait for a response from her and turned back to the door. When I reached out, it remained exactly where it was. No movement whatsoever. Absolutely nothing. I quickly opened it to check if someone was on the other side but everyone was at the other end of the house, getting ready for bed. With adrenaline pumping in my ears from both fright and the exhilarated thought that there just might be a ghost in the house, I motioned my sister out. She ran straight to my mother and proceeded to tell her everything.

Of course, the adults were skeptical, even when I corroborated my sister's story. Nothing unusual happened the remainder of our stay, and we left the following day for our own house in the burbs. We talked about that incident on the drive home, which freaked out my younger brother a bit. But then he was the one who stood on a chair if he saw a spider. I don’t think he still does that.

We lost contact with that family a few years later, but to this day, whenever I ask my sister if she remembers that spooky door, she tells me that she does. Then we share a knowing smile that it just might have been a ghost after all.

Virtual book tour news

Please join me on another leg of my virtual book tour for the paranormal fantasy Desert Magick: Day of the Dead (Book 3)

Virtual book tour and interview with Dana Davis

Thursday, April 14, 2011 at 10:00am - 11:30pm

http://theembraced.blogspot.com/

Virtual book tour and interview with Dana Davis

Wednesday, April 20, 2011 at 10:00am - 11:30pm

http://amberpolo.blogspot.com/

eBook contest winner!

Congratulations to Alicia, the winner of my birthday contest and a free PDF copy of Desert Magick: Superstitions. Thanks so much to everyone who entered. Have a fantastic weekend!

Free eBook contest!

It’s my birthday week and I’m giving away a free PDF copy of my bestselling paranormal fantasy Desert Magick: Superstitions. Simply leave a comment here on my blog or on my facebook page that you would like to be entered in the contest.

The winner will be chosen at random and must have a valid email address that accepts attachments in order to receive the prize. Only one entry per person. Family members are not eligible. Contest ends 4 pm PST Friday, April 8, 2011. Good luck!

If you prefer to leave a comment on my facebook page, please go to http://www.facebook.com/danadaviswriting

Phantom Door - pt 5 of personal paranormal experiences

Phantom Door

by

Dana Davis

I spent the majority of my childhood and young adult years in various aspects of show business and heard all kinds of stories about theatres being haunted. I sometimes think managers made up some of the stories because what’s a theatre without a ghost, right? This incident didn’t happen at one of the theatres where I worked. Instead it took place at a local community center where I spent a lot of time in rehearsals. I was about twenty-one years old.

I’m preparing for another rehearsal and have my arms full of costumes and props as I approach the door to the building. As I get closer, I begin to shift all the stuff in my arms so I can get a hand free to open the door. I’m having trouble because I’m carrying way too much. Just as I get about four feet from the door, it swings open. Not a little bit. It opens enough for me to get through with all the stuff I’m carrying and stops as though someone is holding it. Only there’s no one on the other side.

I chuckle nervously and step inside then turn and say, “Thank you.” I watch in amazement as the door closes itself and latches.

I stand there staring at the large, heavy metal door with the push bar. I’ve been coming to this place on a regular basis since I was fifteen years old, so I know for a fact it’s not easy to open. Even when other doors in the facility are opened and it’s windy out, there isn’t enough cross breeze to open it. It’s too heavy.

I stride down the hallway, glancing back to see if the door will open again but it doesn’t. When I get into the rehearsal studio, my choreographer and good friend is already here.

He looks at me and says, “You look spooked. What happened?”

I tell him everything and ask if it’s ever happened to him. No, it hasn’t. And he’s here even more than I am. As other performers arrive, we tell them the story and ask if any of them ever had a similar experience with any of the exterior doors. Nope. Not a one. They rib me about having my own personal ghost valet and we all get a good laugh.

I came and went through that door many times after that day with my arms full, but it never opened like that again. I have no explanation other than it was a very odd occurrence. I lost that choreographer and good friend a few years later to a deadly disease, but whenever I see a heavy metal door with a push bar, I think of him and that building and my personal ghost valet.

Ding-Dong-Ditch or Ding-Dong-Ghost? - pt4 true paranormal stories

Ding-Dong-Ditch or Ding-Dong-Ghost?

By Dana Davis

My parents were out, leaving me, my younger brother and sister and a younger cousin at home alone. It was the middle of the day and we were goofing around and chatting. We started talking about paranormal stories we’d heard from various family members. What happened next went something like this:

I’m telling them the stories I’ve heard about our great-great aunt being a medium and the odd happenings that were reported around her, when the doorbell rings. I go to the door but there’s no one there. I step onto the porch and out into the yard, thinking some kids were playing ding-dong-ditch, but I don’t see anyone.

“Who is it?” my sister asks.

“Probably just kids.” I shut the door.

We just get back into the family room, when the doorbell rings again. We race to the door, hoping to catch the miscreant this time. There isn’t anyone there. The four of us go outside to check but none of us finds anyone so I let everyone back inside.

Just after I close the door, the bell goes off again and I yank the door open. Again, no one. We’ve never had a problem with the doorbell in the past and I’m a bit flummoxed. The light is on. It looks like it always does. Nothing odd. It has to be kids. I often baby-sit for the couple across the street so I go into the kitchen and call over there. The husband answers and I tell him I think someone is playing ding-dong-ditch with us.

“Can you see our porch from there?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Do you see anyone?”

“No. I don’t see anybody.”

While I’m on the phone with him, the doorbell rings again. “Did you hear that?” I say. My siblings and cousin are too scared to go to the door. Phones in this time have cords so I’m stuck where I am.

“Yes. I heard it,” the neighbor says. “I’m looking right at your porch but there’s no one at the door.”

“Okay, thanks for checking,” I say into the phone. I hang up and the doorbell rings again.

My siblings and cousin are cowering in the family room yelling for me to get rid of the ghost. I laugh and tell them it’s not a ghost. But at this point, I’m beginning to wonder. I ask my brother to get me a screwdriver. I go onto the porch to undo the doorbell and see it I can figure out what’s making it go off. Maybe a wire is shorted. It rings just as reach for it and I jump. My siblings and cousin got brave enough to follow me but now run screaming back into the house.

I call to them that I’m going to test it. I push it and it works just fine, no sticking, nothing out of the ordinary. With shaking hands, I manage to get the lighted button off so I can look inside. The wires all look connected. I don’t see anything wrong. I screw the cover back on and go inside, waiting for it to ring again. It stays quiet.

We never found out for sure what caused that doorbell to go off like it did. My family lived in that house for over fifteen years and that was the only time it happened.

Jury Shmury

So, I have jury duty today. I’m still a bit dizzy today and had to get up at 5:30 this morning so I could brave Phoenix freeways to get here before 8:30. Then they opened the doors late and I really had to pee. So far, the upside to this place, as opposed to the downtown courthouse I had to got to last time, is that parking is nearby and I don’t have to walk six blocks in the summer heat.

Metal detectors. Fun. Just like the airport, only no great destination waiting at the end. And no drinks or food allowed inside the building so my snack and water bottle are in the car. I’m thirsty. Right now, I’m sitting in a small stuffy room with one table in the middle and chairs lining the walls. They do offer water and coffee here but we’re not allowed to take it out of the room. I’m sitting in a corner chair because they have no computer work spaces or wifi in this backward place, either. So, unfortunately, I can’t blog in real time. You’re reading this hours after the fact but I’m writing as much in real time as I can and not get arrested for contempt of court.

Okay, guy with a badge just entered. They need seven jurors. The rest of us will probably go home before noon. Please let that be me. Oh, joy. A video. Okay, he just turned down the lights. Not good for those of us with Meniere’s Disease. But at least he’s leaving so I can keep typing. Can you say death by boredom? I feel like I’m in government 101. Again. I wonder how much they paid these people in the video to say good things about jury duty. No one in this room looks excited to be here. Or maybe it’s just the lighting. Ooh, maybe I should apply as an actress for jury movies. Put all that Hollywood training to work again. Blah, blah, more video talk. I’ve heard all this before. And I could find this info on the net, if they just had wifi. That’s right, they don’t. Do I sound cranky? Well, I’m balancing my computer on my purse because there are no work stations. Hey, video’s over. Oops, guy with a badge coming back in the room. More later.

Okay, well, they got us lined up with numbers and marched us into a courtroom. It’s just before 10. This is a dui case. They don’t usually want people like me on dui cases, not when my teenage nephew was killed by an impaired driver. Questions about work, kids, spouse. The usual. Followed by a series of questions the judge asks and we simply raise our juror number if we qualify. Ooh, I raised my card at least four times. Next, we go back out into the waiting area for another round of sit and wait. Oh, goody. Crap, it’s only 10:30 and I’m hungry. I was queasy this morning so all I had for breakfast was toast. Where’s my snack? Oh, that’s right - I’m not allowed to have any food. Did I bring anything for this headache? Nope. Okay, now the bailiff is calling us in one at a time for more questions, so I don’t have to wait long before I’m back in the courtroom.

This time the judge wants explanations to the questions I raised my juror number for so I tell him what he wants to know. Hmm, the prosecutor and arresting officer look pleased with my answers. Can’t say the same for the defendant and his attorney, though. One final question from the defense. Ah, I’m fairly certain he won’t pick me now. More thank yous and please take a seat outside. Yeah, yeah, I got that part down.

Okay, now I’m back in a chair outside for more waiting. It’s after 11 and I’m really hungry now. I wonder if I have time to go to my car for a snack. Better not risk it. I’ve been trying to work on my editing on these breaks, except I keep reading the same paragraph over and over because of the disruptions. Just too many people talking and moving around. Bailiff calling out names. The guy next to me is coughing. Great, hope he’s not contagious. No time to dwell on that now - Being called in again.

Yea! I’ve been dismissed! It’s 11:30 and I’m starving! Can I go now? No. Have to wait for slip of paper. Of course, I’m one of the last people to get mine. Figures. But, hey, I’ve got a nice little box of snacks and a bottle of water in the car. I’m outa here!

Phantoms and Doors - pt3 of true paranormal stories

Another true-life paranormal story

Phantoms and Doors

By Dana Davis

One night, when I’m about twelve or thirteen years old, I awaken to the feeling of being watched. My room feels eerie, different, like something has changed. I can’t explain it, other than feeling like somebody besides me is there. That’s when I look up to see a black mass of a shadow in my bedroom doorway. Though I can’t see any features, I have a distinct feeling it’s a male presence. It looks like it’s wearing a large hat. I don’t know why I think that because I really can’t see anything distinct, jut a shadow. But I definitely see a hat coming up from what I think is a head. My heart seems to stop in that moment. I can’t breathe.

I try to ignore the feelings and tell myself that I’m just seeing things, that there can’t be a person in my doorway, that it must be a shadow from some strange object in my room. But I still have the distinct feeling I’m being watched and I start to shiver with fright when the shadow remains.

In a panic, I pull the covers over my head and am so scared that I barely hear my own whispers of, “Go away, go away, go away.” Trembling, I peer out from beneath the covers but the black mass is still there.

I hold my breath. My heart starts pounding so hard I think it will pop right out of my chest. I hide under the covers again and utter for it to go away. When I finally get the nerve to look again, whatever it is has disappeared. The room no longer feels different. I no longer feel like I’m being watched. Everything is, well, normal. I want to go to the bathroom but am too scared to get of bed. So I huddle under my covers until I finally go back to sleep.

The next morning I try to figure out what could have made that shadow in my doorway. But everything in my bedroom is in its place, just as always. I’m very good about keeping things in their proper places so I can’t explain the mysterious shadow.

Not long after that incident, I awake one morning and shuffle into the kitchen. My mother is here making coffee or something. My dad and siblings are still in bed. The conversation goes something like this:

My mom turns to me and says in a low voice, “Did you hear the front door last night?”

“No, why?”

“Well, someone knocked in the middle of the night. Woke me up.”

“Really, who?”

“That’s what’s so strange. I went to the door and looked out the peep hole and saw a man in a suit and dress hat standing on the porch. When I opened the door, he was gone. There was no one. I looked for a car or something but it was quiet and I didn’t see anybody anywhere. He was just gone.”

Now if you’re wondering why my mother would open the door to a stranger in the middle of the night, you have to understand this was the 70s in a small town and we had a locked screen door between the inner door and the porch. Even though we kids were taught about stranger-danger, these were the days when people kept their doors unlocked and garage doors open all day so children could come and go as they pleased. The only times my parents locked up was when we all left the house to go someplace or before they went to bed at night.

I study my mother and she seems awed by what she experienced, and maybe even a little spooked. Men don’t wear dress hats anymore, which makes her story all the more fascinating to me. Gooseflesh makes me shiver as I ask, “Who do you think it was?”

“Well, I think it was my grandfather.” The man had died when my mother was around thirteen years old (my age at the time) and she’d been very close to him.

“Really? You think it was him?” I’m actually relieved by this news because it makes the shadow I saw seem less threatening and I move on to curious. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know. Maybe just stopped by to say hi.”

I nod. We don’t say much else about it and she smiles at me as we get breakfast ready.

I’m not sure why, but I didn’t mention the shadow in my doorway to her until many years later. And I still find it strange that my mother would come out of the blue with her story about her dead grandfather who once wore a dress hat, especially after my own experience of the shadow man in the hat. Either way, I never saw that shadow again and, as far as I know, my mother never had another strange night visitor come knocking at the door.

The Medium in My Family - pt2 of true paranormal stories

Here is the second installment in my personal and family real-life paranormal tales. There will be more to come in future posts. Enjoy!

Family Medium

I grew up hearing stories about my great-grandmother (granny) and her sister. The two were born the same month two years apart in the latter part of the nineteenth century and were very close.  According to family legend, when granny and her sister were present, items would sometimes fly across the kitchen and cabinets would open on their own. One particular day the sisters were sitting in their living room when my g-g-aunt’s chair suddenly lifted off the floor, hovered for a moment, then lowered back down to the floor. Interesting, right? I wish I could've been there to see it.

My great-great-aunt was also practicing medium during the early days of the twentieth century.The occult had been enjoying a boon during this period so mediums were accepted in many circles. She would hold séances for family, friends and clients and call on spirits from the other side. During these séances, she would go into a trance in order to communicate with the dead. One night, while in one of her trances, an invisible force grabbed onto her hair and yanked her out of her chair. The incident frightened her so much that she never again performed another séance and all paranormal activity around her stopped.

 The sisters died in the 1970s, two months apart. These and other stories about Granny and her sister are still told in my family today.

Voices in My Bed - pt1 of true paranormal stories

I've been asked many times about my paranormal experiences, especially now that I'm involved with a paranormal investigative team. So, I've decided to share some of those experiences here on my blog, as well as some of the stories passed down through my family. Though I alter them quite a bit, I tend to use my experiences in my paranormal fantasy novels. Here is the first story of this series. Enjoy!

Voices in My Bed

By Dana Davis

My first experience with the paranormal started when I was about three years old and continued until I was almost seven. We lived in a rental house at the time and my bedroom was a converted garage. Every night when I went to bed, I would hear what sounded like a room full of adults talking. They started out distant and would grow louder within seconds, as though they were coming straight at me. While the voices were going on I always felt strange, like part of me was split or in two places at once. It scared me every time and I would hide under the covers until the voices disappeared and then go to sleep.

I never understood anything that was said because it was like being in a large cafeteria with everyone talking at once, but there were no utensil sounds, only voices. When I was about six, I would listen really hard and try to make out a single voice among the many but never could. I even spoke a couple of times to see if I could get a direct response but I never did.

These voices happened every night for three to four years and only lasted a few seconds. That’s how it always happened. I don’t know why, but I don’t think I ever told my parents about it. The voices stopped when we moved. I tried as a teenager and again as an adult to hear those voices at bedtime but I never heard them again. To this day, I don’t know whether I was having some sort of auditory hallucinations or actually experiencing something paranormal in that house.

Lucky We Went to Egypt in 2010 (with photos)

As you may know, hubby and I were in Egypt about three months ago. We met some wonderful people during our visit and I blogged about the trip. With the internet shut down over there right now, we haven't been able to find out how our guides and drivers and their families are doing. I have to say that the protests don't surprise me because of what we heard when we were there, but I'm disgusted by all the criminals taking advantage of the situation and sacking and looting ancient treasures and businesses. Even King Tut's Exhibit at the Egyptian Antiquities Museum didn't escape damage. Luckily, those pieces can be repaired. I'm sure the same can't be said for other artifacts. We feel extremely lucky that we took our Egypt trip when we did. Who knows how long it will be before normal travel will resume in this troubled country. Cameras are strictly forbidden inside the museum, so I don't have any of photos from there to share with you, but I've included a few from around Egypt that I didn't put into previous blogs.

Enjoy and please keep the Egyptian people in your thoughts.

Putting it in perspective.

I know, I know, I've been lax about posting the past couple of months. I do have an excuse. Well, several actually. No, really, I do. At the beginning of our holiday break, I rear-ended hubby while we were biking and ended up sprawled on the street with several bruises, scrapes and a cracked rib. And I needed to meet my publisher's deadline for my next book and was falling behind. Good news is that because it hurt just to breathe, I couldn't do much of anything but sit and got a lot of writing done.

Then, when I was almost healed, I ended up having two Meniere's attacks in a row. This disease causes severe vertigo and tinnitus during attacks and impedes normal function. I tend to go into denial between attacks and pretend that I'm normal. Then, wham! I get hit with another reminder that I'm, well, just a little bit different than most. Hubby is great to me during these times but it's hard not being able to walk straight for a day or two and then being unstable for another day or two. I sometimes mope.

So, while I was having a pity party, and doing a fine job of it, I got news that my younger brother was diagnosed with severe osteoarthritis. Can you hear the brakes squealing? Yep, that put an instant halt to my party. This is devastating news for anyone, but especially for someone who was a body builder and karate instructor and is still religious about going to the gym. My party was over. My brother lost his only son to an impaired driver three years ago, so he's no stranger to hard times. He's taking this current news with more bravery than I would. We commiserated, with me just trying to keep my mouth shut and listen.

Everyone has challenges in their lives and, thanks to my brother, I've learned that mine are not nearly as severe as I sometimes want to believe. So my pity hat hangs in the closet now and it's time to support my brother again. His disease is progressive, like mine. But unlike mine, his causes a lot of pain, sometimes on a daily basis, and makes it hard for him to do things I take for granted, like walking up a flight of stairs. He was acting all brave and whatnot, so I told him to go ahead and have a pity party, with balloons and a big pity cake. He's earned it. After that, he can be the brave one if he wants. Thanks to him, I have yet a new perspective on life. That mine is pretty great.

Todd Davis Memorial Scholarship

It's the new year and now is a great time to decide on your annual donations. My seventeen-year-old nephew died in 2008 from injuries he sustained in an automobile accident with an impaired driver. My brother and his wife have set up a scholarship in his memory if you wish to donate. Anything is appreciated and is tax deductible.

Todd Davis Memorial Scholarship

The Todd Davis Memorial Scholarship is open to all University of Houston—Clear Lake (UHCL) students who have volunteered their time at UHCL for leadership events such as, but not limited to, the ones mentioned above.

There are three ways in which you can donate in Todd’s memory:

1. www.uhcl.edu under the “give to UHCL” tab.” Just be sure and select “other” in the gift designation box and write “for the Todd Davis Memorial Scholarship” in the memo box just above the “Personal Information” section on the page.

2. or you may call Kim Herhold at UHCL at 281-283-2036 and pay by credit card over the telephone. Visa, MasterCard, Discover and American Express are accepted.

3. or you may mail your check to: UHCL, Office of University Advancement, Attn: Kim Herhold, 2700 Bay Area Blvd., Box 318, Houston, TX 77058

Note: please write “Todd Davis Memorial Scholarship” in the memo section of your check. And please check with your employer’s HR department to see if they participate in a matching gift program.

New interview and eBook contest!

Time	Thursday, January 6 - January 7
Location	http://moonlightlacemayhem.blogspot.com
Created By	Dana Davis
More Info	Award-winning and SynergE bestselling author Dana Davis will talk about her Teadai Prophecies fantasy trilogy and other goodies at Twilight Thursday at Moonlight, Lace, and Mayhem. Visitors will also have a chance to enter a contest for a free eBook copy of Deadly Fate: Book One of the Teadai Prophecies.

The Bird Who Doesn’t Fly.

If you’ve ever read my bio, you’ve probably seen my crazy parakeets mentioned someplace. Believe it or not, birds have neuroses just like humans. Ours are no exception. Each bird hubby and I have ever had came with its own personality, quirks and prejudices. We currently have two budgies who are mates. The female used to fly all over the place, landing on things she wasn’t supposed to be on. We called her a "naughty birdie" and laughed at her escapades. Once our other birds passed away, she and her mate were left alone. Birds can go into depression when they lose a friend but these two seemed content to be together. Their grieving didn’t take more than a few days and then they were fine, eating their veggies and fruits and playing with their toys again.

After a while, the female began to fly less and less. She seemed content to sit in the cage and have her mate feed and preen her, which is how male budgies get their groove on, if you know what I mean. The vet checked her out and couldn’t find anything wrong with her. We even learned that some birds are content to stay in their cages and refuse to come out. But she’s a bird and birds are supposed to fly, right? That’s what we think, too. But after coaxing without success, we left her alone, figuring she would come out on her own eventually. Everyone once in a while, she would sit in the doorway and get startled by her mate and come out. But she hadn’t flown in so long that she had no strength in her wings and went straight to the floor. Instead of flying back, she would just waddle around – she’d put on a little weight – and sit under the coffee table. Her mate would join her on the floor and they would sit and preen. When she wanted to go back into her cage, she couldn’t get enough height, so she would waddle to me and wait for me to offer my finger as a perch. I would hold her up a few feet from the cage and, when she felt like it, she would fly back.

This was the only exercise our girl was getting. She had turned into a full-on couch potato, complete with waddle weight, and we decided to do an intervention. I began to take her out of the cage, whether she wanted to come out or not, two to three times a day and hold her on my finger until she flew back on her own. Hubby’s afraid he’ll squeeze them too hard, so I do birdie meds and anything else that involves holding them against their will. I don’t mind at all. I got nipped at the first week or so because she didn’t like me taking her out. Yes, it hurt, but after having animals my whole life, I’m used to it. Besides, how would you like a humongous hand reaching in through your front door and grabbing you? I know I would put up a fight, so I certainly can’t blame her for that. Her nips were a warning, not an attack, and she never drew blood.

After the first week, she stopped nipping at me and allowed me to hold her, knowing I wouldn’t keep her in my hands for long. Birds don’t like their wings held, even if they refuse to fly with them. Our little birdie even began to lose a bit of her waddle weight. I found this encouraging and would take her farther and farther from her cage every three days or so, until she grew more confident and got excited about these short flights. Her mate seemed to enjoy having her out again, so we put their birdie play yard up. This is a wooden platform with ladders, ropes and other toys. We placed the play yard in its previous spot, about ten feet from their cage at a higher elevation. They loved to play on it in the past but hadn’t since our girl decided not to fly any longer. This time when I took her out, I put her on it. She flew back to the cage with no problem at all and even sang a jaunty tune afterwards. Hubby and I did a little happy dance.

Then, yesterday, our girl came out on her own for the first time in months, flew to the play yard and back to the cage. It was just like old times. We did soft cheers of encouragement, and her mate sang his little heart out. After that, she did a half lap around the family room. We will continue to encourage her to fly and cheer her on when she does. She’s no longer “the bird who doesn’t fly”.

Contest winner!

Thanks so much to Clare Dargin and to everyone who stopped by for the interview. Congratulations to Manjiri, who won the eBook contest. Happy New Year!

Interview and eBook contest!

Interview with Dana Davis and free eBook contest! Happy New Year! Family members not eligible for the contest. Wednesday, December 29 at 12:00am - Saturday, January 1, 2011 at 12:00am.

http://theembraced.blogspot.com

Twas the Night Before Deadline

Twas the Night Before Deadline
Adaptation by Dana Davis (my apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

Twas the night before deadline, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even my mouse.
The sticky notes hung by the computer in rows,
In hopes that my muse soon would make a show.

My characters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of plotlines danced in my head.
And computer all booted, and hand on my mouse,
I’d just settled my brain for a long writer’s joust.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the glass.

The moon on the pool and the landscape lights
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects in sight.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature woman in flowing apparel.

The little odd woman, so lively and loose,
I knew in a moment it must be my muse.
More rapid than eagles her course she came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called out my game!

"Now Dashes! now, Spaces! now, Paragraphs and Verbs!
On, Comas! On, Clauses! on Headers and Blurbs!
To the top of the page! To the margin and title!
Now type away! Type away! Type away, writer!"

As dry leaves that before the wild monsoon fly,
When she meets with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So into the house the course she flew,
With a bag full of ideas, my lovely muse true.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard in my brain
The prancing and pawing of each little refrain.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Into the office my muse came with a bound.

She was dressed all in letters, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all garnished with phrases and words.
A bundle of ideas she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a fairy, as she opened her pack.

Her eyes-how they twinkled! her dimples how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the skin of her chin was as white as snow.

The stump of a pen she held tight in her teeth,
And the nouns they encircled her head like a wreath.
She had a round face and a little loose bun,
That bobbed when she laughed, like a hummingbird tongue!

She was chubby and plump with ideas for my shelf,
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself!
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all my sticky notes, then turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, out the window she rose!

She danced and she laughed, and gave out a whistle,
And away she then flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ‘ere she flew out of sight,
"Happy writing to all, and to all a good-night!"

Dana's travel pics.

I've had a lot of interest in my world travels so if you'd like to see more photos of places I've been, please visit my facebook album. http://www.facebook.com/danadaviswriting/posts/140198536035063?ref=notif&notif_t=feed_comment#!/album.php?aid=154743&id=591073862

You don't have to be a member of facebook to see the pics but if you are a member, I'd love for you to friend me. And please let me know that you saw this post on my blog. Thanks and enjoy!

Dude, I’m Driving Here!

I’m just guessing, but I think maybe Phoenician driving habits are related to the intense heat frying people’s brains during the long summers. Or perhaps it has to do with the mysterious Phoenix lights in the sky altering people’s interpretation of reality. Or maybe it’s the dust. Whatever the reason, driving here is a test in all the skills they tried to drill into you during driver’s ed class. Remember those old simulators that logged your response times? Remember laughing with relief when the kid chased the ball in front of your fake car because you just barely missed taking him out? While kids chasing something into the street is a fabulous reason for keeping your senses open, its other drivers I tend to worry about most. Thankfully, my horn is in good form, as I tend to use it more here than I ever did while living in Los Angeles.

Now I tend to go about five miles over the speed limit at any given time. Yeah, I’m a rebel. But seriously, I like to arrive at my destination with me and my car in one piece. However, since the freeway cameras were removed here, things have gone back to the way they were before, and driving in Phoenix freeway is tantamount to maneuvering the Indy 500 track with bad drivers behind the wheels. And, for some reason, Arizonans don’t realize what turn signals are for. Or else, they just can’t find them.

Like most of my freeway excursions, I felt lucky to make it home from the last one. So, there I am, driving along in my cute gas sipping car, not talking on a cell phone, not putting on makeup, or eating, or gazing at my GPS map, or any number of things I could do instead of actually driving, when one of these Indy dudes decides to change lanes. With no signal. And straight for me. Now, if I remember a bit of physics, no matter how hard one wishes it, two objects can’t occupy the same space at the same time. Sadly, this basic physics lesson tends to get ignored around here. Quite a bit. So with my heart racing, no escape route in sight, and an awful image of my cute baby’s front end being removed, I pressed the horn, while yelling through my closed window, “Hey, dude! Stay in your own lane!” Luckily for me, the other driver must’ve remembered his simulator training, because he swerved back into his own lane, thus avoiding an increase in both our insurance plans.

But before my heart could get back to a normal rhythm, I spot a huge Indy truck coming up fast in my rearview mirror. This dude seemed to think that tailgating me for several miles would make my car disappear. Um, the left lanes are there for a reason. Really. Anyway, after passing several exits, he gave up on me and merged into the right lane to ride another dude’s bumper. For some reason a lot of drivers have the same misinformation as Indy truck guy and think that tailgating will cause the car ahead of them to evaporate, which explains why freeway accidents here tend to involve three or four or even five vehicles. I’m still trying to find out which page of the driving manual has this information so I can bring it to someone’s attention.

On top of the regular, misinformed dudes on the road, during winter months, like now, the snowbirds flock to town. No, I don’t mean white birds. I’m talking retirees from places where it snows and gets really, really cold and icy and stuff like that. They come here for the winter months to swim, or something they can’t do back home. And let’s face it, no Phoenician in her right mind would go in the water when it’s a freezing 68 degrees outside so they pretty much have poolside to themselves. Now, while I’m a fan of older people - I’m even friends with some - I do wish those unfamiliar with Phoenix driving habits would curb the desire to get behind the wheel if they don’t really have to. Having to break and swerve to avoid some old dude doing 45 on the freeway is a heart-pounder, especially when the Indy vehicles dominate the other lanes, and makes a treacherous drive for the rest of us who try to stay somewhere near the speed limit.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking, that giving the single finger salute would be a solution to some of these problems, or at least make one feel really, really good. But this is Phoenix. And everyone is packing. And I don’t mean gum. I have enough stress without getting shot and ending up on the six o’clock news. So, dudes, my middle finger is officially on hiatus. At least until I get back home to LA, where I can give it a serious workout without fear of losing it.

Repost of final Egypt blog post from myspace - with photos!

Okay, so this is the last installment of my Egypt trip. I decided to save some fun and interesting stuff for this one. Like Greek and Roman graffiti and artwork on ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. Luckily, the Romans plastered over the hieroglyphics instead of painting or carving directly on them. This actually preserved them so when Egyptologists chipped the plaster off or it crumbled from age, the hieroglyphics were still there.

Here in the states, we’ve seen 19th century graffiti on ancient petroglyphs. In Egypt, you get Greek graffiti on hieroglyphs. But tourists aren’t the only ones to deface ancient property. In Italy, we saw ancient graffiti in Pompeii and other places. The same goes for Egypt. You’ve probably heard of a guy by the name of Rameses/Ramses II. We learned some interesting things about him. Like his name and/or statues and obelisks seem to be everywhere in Egypt. I don’t think we went too many places where we didn’t see something about him. Of course, he was a Pharaoh, but I’m beginning to think he was also a bit full of himself. After all, he scratched out his father’s name to carve his own in its place. And I believe he was the one who surrounded Queen (the only female pharaoh) Hatshepsut’s obelisks in stone so they couldn’t be seen. The men following her reign tried very hard to erase her existence. We were told she stole the throne from her young stepson and it really ticked him off, but I also think the patriarchal society back then had a lot to do with trying to erase her. Luckily for us, Egyptologists rediscovered her and added her back into the history books.

Unfortunately, Rameses’ II tomb in the Valley of the Kings was closed when we were there but we got to see other burial places.

Repost of Egypt trip blog - photos added!

Here is the original post from my old myspace blog about my recent Egypt trip. You may have read these blogs but I'm moving the most recent ones here. I've added photos.

Egypt part 1

Hubby and I just got back from Egypt, a trip we’d been planning for some time and a place both of us had wanted to visit since childhood. But who hasn’t, right? The first thing we noticed in Cairo is the traffic. Lanes are optional, horns mandatory, and accidents minimal to non-existent. We were as likely to see an 18 wheeler as a donkey on the various roads, which consisted of everything from smooth concrete to potholes and speed bumps. While riding with our driver, Mohamed, who enjoyed joking around, I tried my best to decipher the horn signals.

They go something like this:

1. One tap, mainly used for pedestrians – I’m coming, get out of the way.
2. Two taps – look out other cars, buses, donkeys, trucks – I’m coming through.
3. One long blast – hey, buster, look out, you’re drifting into my area.
4. A series of toots – howdy, everyone, how’s it going

After the entertaining ride from the airport to hotel, we were greeted with a nice view of the Nile River from our balcony. Surreal to think we were finally in Egypt, where ancient Pharaohs had once ruled this land. The next morning we drove to Giza to visit to the pyramids and sphinx. Not only is it humbling to stand in the shadows of these massive structures from a 5000 years ago civilization, squatting, hunching and just plain crawling into the hot tombs, is a feat in itself, and one I wouldn’t have missed. Cameras aren’t allowed in the tombs but we got plenty of pics from the outside.

The Egyptian people are friendly and love to chat and after crawling out of one of the ancient pyramid tombs, hubby and I were laughing about something. Don’t remember what. Maybe we were just punchy from the heat. But a man stepped to us and said to my husband, “You have good wife. She worth a million camels.” Now, I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted, so I chose flattered and laughed all the harder. The man grinned and repeated his statement, patting me on the shoulder.

So, not only did I have an awesome time in Giza, but I’m also worth a million camels. Go figure.

Part 2

We took a day trip to Dendara (Dendera), which is just full of history from ancient Egypt to the ancient Romans and Greeks to Ptolemy, who are said to have made alterations to the temple and even built structures here. We arrived before any tour buses and got a chance to walk around this area while it was quiet. This made the site all the more special for us, especially when gazing up at columns and walls filled with ancient hieroglyphics. You can see some of the original paint color here, too. We even had a chance to walk into some of the underground tunnels. Ancient Egyptians decorated everything with hieroglyphics, one reason I love them so much.

Part 3

While seeing the great pyramids in Egypt was a dream come true for hubby and me and one we’d both been dreaming about since we were kids, I have to admit, the Valley of the Kings in Luxor may have been even better. Various tombs are in this area. Two of the most famous being that of King Tut and Ramses II. The colors in some of the tombs are so well-preserved, you’d think they were painted recently, but some are over 3000 years old. Three-thousand! While that’s a blip in geological time, it’s huge for us mere humans.

And a topper to this marvelous cake is King Tut’s mummy. Yep, his actual mummy is in his tomb. We stood right next to it. The sarcophagus is amazing, but to be right there with the king himself in his own burial chamber, well it’s extremely surreal. While photos are allowed driving up to the Valley of the Kings entrance, cameras are no longer allowed inside. So, I've borrowed some photos from friends who were there a few years ago to share with you, along with the ones I took.

Dana's Blah Blah is moving back to blogspot!

I had moved my blog to myspace because I have a lot of followers there but with the recent changes myspace has made, the site is just not feasible any longer, so I'm coming back here. I am in the process of moving a few entries here but this may take a little time because I have photos posted with many of them. I hope myspace readers will come to blogspot and I will post bulletins whenever I have a new entry. Thanks so much to all my followers for your patience and loyalty.

Happy reading!
Dana

Egypt trip pt 4

Graffiti and other goodies - Egypt trip pt 4 - now at Dana's Blah Blah Blog http://www.myspace.com/danadaviswriting/blog

Living in the Wild, Wild West!

Well the wild ride is over! Read all about it at Dana's Blah Blah blog - Living in the Wild, Wild West http://www.myspace.com/danadaviswriting/blog

Valley of the Kings - Egypt trip pt 3

Valley of the Kings - Egypt trip pt 3 - now at Dana's Blah Blah blog. http://www.myspace.com/danadaviswriting/blog

Egyptians, Romans and Greeks, oh my - Egypt trip pt 2

Egyptians, Romans and Greeks, oh my - Egypt trip pt 2 at Dana's Blah Blah - http://www.myspace.com/danadaviswriting/blog

I’m Worth a Million Camels – Egypt Trip – Pt 1

I’m Worth a Million Camels – Egypt Trip – Pt 1 - new post at Dana's Blah Blah Blog http://www.myspace.com/danadaviswriting/blog

Genealogy and fiction writing.

Genealogy and fiction writing - new post is up at Dana's Blah Blah blog. Enjoy! http://www.myspace.com/danadaviswriting/blog

When a publisher asks for shocking changes

When a publisher asks for shocking changes - now at Dana's Blah Blah blog. http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Bisbee Ghost Hunt - #2

Bisbee Ghost Hunt part 2 is now up at Dana's Blah Blah Blog - with photos! http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Bisbee Ghost Hunt - #1

Bisbee Ghost Hunt first installment is now up at Dana's Blah Blah Blog - with photos! http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Ghost Hunt - most times an orb is just dust.

Ghost Hunt - most times an orb is just dust at Dana's Blah Blah Blog

http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Blogger award nomination!

I just received a Creative Writer blogger award nomination. :) To read all about it and see a list of bloggers that I nominated, please visit http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Those of you who are unable to post on my myspace blog, please feel free to post here. Or you can visit my facebook page and post at http://www.facebook.com/people/Dana-Davis/591073862

I'll still receive them no matter where you post. :)

Spring Fever in the Valley of the Sun

Spring Fever in the Valley of the Sun blog at Dana's Blah Blah. http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Rainbows, Flowers and Allergies, Oh, My

http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Writers Have to Do More Than Write in the Digital Age

New blog up at Dana's Blah Blah - Writers Have to Do More Than Write in the Digital Age - plus questions and answers about my personal nook ereader. http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Dana's Blah Blah blog - Author bumps in the digital book age!

Dana's Blah Blah blog - Author bumps in the digital book age!

http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting http://blog.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

Dana's blog at myspace

Thanks for stopping by!

New blog - travel for writers series and ghost hunt!

New blog posts are up. Check out my travel places series for writers and read about my first paranormal investigation at http://blogs.myspace.com/danadaviswriting

I still haven't figured out how to link this old blog with the new one on myspace. Or how to get my myspace blog to appear as an RSS feed.