According to the author grapevine:

• If the book has no review, it's not shown in search.
• If a book has over 50 reviews, it might be shown to potential readers and included in the selling site's email campaign.

Pressured, desperate authors are willing to do anything to get reviews and it's getting pretty nasty.

• They beg and send "friendly reminders" to friends and family.
• Humiliate themselves with constant begging.
• Give out hundreds of books for free hoping someone might write a review.
• Pay a lot of money to shady services.
• Write "glowing" exchange reviews for each other.
• Their minions write nasty reviews on books in the same genre.

A monster has been created! 
Reviews were meant to be a tool that readers could use to give their opinion freely and without pressure.

I did a reader survey recently:

• 65% of the readers said they don't bother writing reviews. They enjoy the story and move on to the next book.
• 4% said they only write something if the book is crap. Either has a bad story line, or badly edited.
• 22% said they never read the reviews. They look at the cover and read the synopsis, or someone recommends the book to them.
• 9% said they watch for free books on social sites, but rarely write reviews.

​
Personal note:
I would love to have hundreds of reviews on each of my books, which author wouldn't? For me, this is the only feedback I get on my stories besides my editor's notes on what I did wrong. Grammar mistakes, sentence structure and so on.

However, realistically, I can't expect the opinion of every reader. But when a rare review pops up on my books, it makes me happy.
I appreciate every single feedback, good or bad (lucky me, so far I only have good reviews)

But...
I will not beg or pay for reviews. I've been giving out ARC copies or run promo days on selling sites, but I don't go crazy over not getting reviews for the free or discounted books.
Hopefully, my books remain to be noticed by readers even with only a few, or no reviews. 

My mom would've been a great diplomat.
My father was a sweet person, but as many men in those times, he had the illusion of being the head of the household and his word was supposed to be the law in the family.
Mom didn't like to waste time with futile arguments, so she always found the peaceful way to do things her way.

I was reading on the couch on a weekend afternoon when I heard Mom telling Dad in the kitchen, "The butcher cut the meat so nice and thin, I'm going to make stuffed pork with potatoes for dinner."

"I want fried pork, not stuffed!" Came Dad's authoritarian voice.

"Okay, dear, I'll make fried pork then, but I don't have enough oil."

"I'll go to the store." Dad volunteered.

As soon as he was out the door, mom soaked the bread, chopped onion, garlic, apples, dried cranberries and celery, cracked eggs and mixed the stuffing with spices.

"Mom, aren't you making fried pork?"

"Nope," she replied, smiling.

"He's going to be mad." I volunteered.

Mom just nodded and by the time Dad got home with the oil, the dinner was out of the oven.

"I thought by the time you get home from the store you'd be starving," Mom said with a sweet smile on her face. "It would take a long time to prepare and fry the meat, so I decided to make the stuffed meat instead."

Dad opened his mouth to protest with an angry look on his face when Mom took the lid of the pan. "It smells really good," Dad sniffed the air and he's expression softened. But to save his authoritarian dignity he added, "Hope you didn't put anything fancy in the stuffing like those chefs on TV. Who'd put apples and cranberries in the stuffing? You know I like it plain and simple."

"Of course I know how you like it, dear! Let's eat."

We enjoyed the delicious meal in silence for a few minutes when Dad put his fork down and asked, "What are those tasty bits in the stuffing? It's really good."

"Just some apples and cranberries," Mom said.

If you want to read four books: 396 minutes relaxing, cozy story time for $3.96
If you have Kindle Unlimited, you can read 2 of the books with your membership.
It's a pretty good deal for the price of 1/2 cup of coffee. Don't you think?

Lauren has everything she’d ever wished for. Great career, financial security, loving husband, and devoted friends.

When her Raven spirit guide warns her of impending danger, she takes the omen seriously.

She doesn’t have enough time to perform the protection spell her grandmother taught her and after a vicious attack and the Raven’s repeated urgent warning, she knows her life is in danger.
Who wants her dead and why?
 
Harbinger of danger, the Raven calls
Omen of perils that will befall
Ignoring its warning, does not bode well
Time of the essence, cast protection spell
Kraa from the oak, flapping black feather wings
Her heart knows the message it brings
~Cindy J. Smith
 

Lauren slowly opened her eyes. The white ceiling tiles with fluorescent light fixtures told her exactly where she was. I’m in the hospital, but why? What happened to me? Slowly, she tried to move. Every part of her body ached. Her head throbbed, and when she slowly turned her head, she was able to see the IV pole with a pump attached by her bed. My throat hurts. Was I intubated? My belly hurts as if I had surgery. Why can’t I remember? She touched the side of her head and felt a large, painful lump but no wetness in her matted hair. No open wound, I must have fallen and hit my head. But why does my abdomen feel like it’s on fire on the inside? Is my baby okay? She screamed in her mind but knew it was safer for her not to make sudden movements or sit up, but she needed to know why she was in the hospital and what happened to her.

Before she could reach the call button, Marcia rushed into the room and called out to her with worry in her voice, “You must stay in bed! You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“What happened?” Lauren managed to croak out her question. She felt a sharp pain in her throat when she made sounds and could barely manage to move her swollen lips.
​
“I’m just glad you are okay!” Marcia embraced her in a careful hug. “I went back to the office because I forgot my phone, and I found you on the floor unconscious and bleeding.”

My mother loved her porcelain faced dolls and proudly displayed the in a glass cabinet. Although I never played with dolls other than my paper dress-up doll collection, and Mom forbid me to touch her dolls, I liked looking at their pretty dresses.

Until she got two new ones. Those dolls scared me and really freaked me out . 
​

Their dead eyes seemed to follow my every move and made the little hairs stand up on the back of neck to the point that I did everything to avoid going into the room.

When I really had to enter the room, I ran to the cabinet and turned those two dolls upside down. Of course, my mother turned them back as soon as she noticed and reminded me again not to touch her dolls.

I even tried to leave the cabinet door open so my dog could reach them. Although he shred anything to pieces within seconds, he tiptoed away from the cabinet, and even when I threw one of the dolls to the floor hoping he would chew them to pieces, he ran out of the room.

No matter how many times Dad and I told my mom how creepy those dolls were, she laughed. "Don't be silly! There is nothing creepy about them, and they're so pretty."

Finally, Grandma came to the rescue two weeks later. As soon as she entered the room she shuddered and told my mom, "Those dolls are cursed! Get rid of them."

Mom didn't hesitate and stuffed the dolls in a bag, and to my delight, later that day dropped them off at the thrift shop.

A few days later my best friend, Gabi, told me in school, "My mother bought me two dolls for my birthday. They're so creepy looking that I'm scared of them, but I'm more scared to tell my mom that I don't like them." 

A chill ran down my spine and after school I went over to Gabi's house. As soon as I looked at the dolls I recognized them and told Gabi's mom, "My grandmother told us that those dolls are cursed, so Mom got rid off them."

Gabi's mom grabbed the dolls and threw them into the fireplace. Luckily, superstition saved us from being forced to look at creepy dolls every day. 
​

When I saw the sender: Pissedoff Reader, I thought, Oh, boy! This reader really hates my book! 
When I opened and read the message, my first reaction was, "What the Hell?"

And then I took a deep breath and tried to think rationally. 
My book is published on many selling sites, maybe there is a glitch on one of the sites and the book didn't download correctly.

So, I sent her an email, not even knowing who she was because she didn't give her name just her email address. When I got the reply, I found out she's a woman.
She replied back, "It's cheating! I couldn't even read any of the pages. It's just some small pictures."

I assured her that I'll look into this because I want my readers to get my books in the best format possible, and I asked her to describe the picture.
She replied angrily that at the bottom of the pictures it says "jump" and she can't read the text on her tablet.

By then I had a hunch about what might have happened, so I asked her which site she purchased the book from.
"I didn't buy it, it was a website where you can download PDF books for free." And she sent me the link and a blurry picture she took with her phone of her tablet's screen. 
​
I clicked on the link and my virus protection immediately flashed "Malicious site".
The page had book cover pictures with "Download free" click box under them. Yup, it was a pirate site alright! I wondered if the woman got a nasty virus with her "free" book when she downloaded it. The picture she sent looked like a page screenshot to me.

Intrigued, I went through the publishing sites: 
https://www.books2read.com/u/mgL5qD
​and looked at the free preview pages. I took a screenshot and sent it to the woman.
​

"That's it! That's what the pages look like." she replied back.
Then I sent her this message:
"Sorry you had a bad experience, but this site where you downloaded the "free" book is called a pirate site. They steal the books, and in this case, the owner of the site is not even smart enough to properly steal the entire book, they just took screenshots of the free pages that are available on legit selling sites. Had you purchase the book from a legitimate selling site such as Amazon, you'd have received a beautifully formatted eBook to enjoy. Also, I advice you to run a virus check on your tablet. The "free" books from pirate sites and not so "free". 
​

I don't wish harm to any reader who downloads pirated books, but...
If someone can't afford the $2.99 price for my eBook, please go to your local library and ask them to purchase the book. Then you can read it for free, but the author and publisher gets paid for their work.

Writing and publishing a book is a long process and requires investment as well. 
1. The author works on the story for months or even years to bring the best reading experience to readers.
2. It cost money to edit and format the book, have attractive book cover designed.
3. It cost money to promote and market the book so readers can find it.

It would never occur to people to ask for free coffee, haircut, manicure, or walk into a store and get shoes and clothes for free, because they know how much work goes into producing items they buy. 

Publishing a book is work and the authors and publishers deserve to get paid for their work.
Don't you think?
​

When I posted this about 2 hours ago, I also sent a take down notice to the pirate to and demanded my books to be removed (they had the entire trilogy listed) 

I didn't get a reply, but just now I clicked on the link and not only my books were removed, but the site had been removed as well.

One pirate site down, thousands more to go!

You finished your book.
You poured your heart and soul into it.
You know it's a great story and readers will love it.
You send your inquiry letter to 50 publishers.

While you wait for the acceptance letter, you build up followers on social sites.
You work on your website and write articles announcing your book.
You're excited and tell everyone about your upcoming book.
You start getting the rejection letters one by one.

A few months went by and 10% of the publishers didn't even reply.
You feel devastated and question if your story is good enough.
Deep down you know it's good and you feel determent.
Figure out how to self-publish your book.

Go through the process of paying for ISBN, editing, book cover.
Spend a month planning your book launch.
Finally it's launch day.
And you sell 3 copies.

You check your sales dashboard 168 times a day for a week.
Nothing.
Beg all your 2000 friends and followers on social sites to buy your book.
You sell 2 more copies... and then nothing for weeks.
​
Months go buy and you're going crazy in the jungle of promotion and marketing.
You spend $600 on marketing and make $25 in royalty payments.
You freak out and binge on chocolate cake for days.
You're determent to make it as a writer, so you start writing a new story.
Months later your story is finished and you start the publishing journey over from step one.

So, that's the life of thousands of writers. 
Very few gets lucky to be noticed and become a bestseller author, but the rest of us keep writing and hoping.
We keep writing because we must. We have so much to say that we can't stop writing.
And we always have the hope that some day our dreams will come through.

A few years ago my friend and I were enjoying our afternoon coffee and cookies on her porch. The weather was beautiful and my eyes wandered over to a row of trees by the small creek at the edge of her property.

Stunned by what I saw I cried out, "I just saw that small tree walking about 2 feet!"

Marie looked at me with shock and fear in her eyes. "What?"

That tree looked like it was walking toward that large tree."

Marie stared at the trees, shook her head in disbelieve and tried to smile. "Girlfriend," she exclaimed. "Whatever you're on, I want some!"

"No!" I protested. "You know me, and you know I would never touch any drugs or even alcohol."

"Then you're scaring me! Are you feeling okay?" she asked with worry in her eyes.

"I'm fine." I assured her but deep down I started to doubt if I really saw the tree move or my eyes played a trick on me. "But I really saw the tree move. I swear! Let's go, I'll show you."

We got up and walked to the creek. What we saw made me feel a whole lot better. "See?" I pointed at a young tree hanging in the air. "That's the tree I saw, and I was right. Look, a beaver chewed the trunk free but the tree couldn't fall because its branches are tangled with that big tree's branches."

"Man!" Marie looked at me relieved. "For a minute there I thought you were losing your marbles or going nuts on me."

Sometimes we fail to recognize them because narcissists tend to be great at first impressions, coming across as very charismatic and personable.

Zlatan Krizan, an associate professor in the Department of Psychology at Iowa State University, explains that there’s actually two kinds of expressions of narcissism: grandiose, which is where the bragging and showing off is exhibited, and shy, where a person may not be as forthright “or be out there with a bullhorn, but is sitting in the corner, fantasizing about when their day will come, and resenting others.”

​A mental condition when people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, troubled relationships, and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of extreme confidence lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism.
​
People with narcissistic personality usually don't think that anything could be wrong, so they may be unlikely to seek treatment. If they do seek treatment, it's more likely to be for symptoms of depression, drug or alcohol use, or another mental health problem. But perceived insults to self-esteem may make it difficult to accept and follow through with treatment.
​

• They display an exaggerated sense of self-importance.
• They require constant admiration.
• They expect to be recognized as superior and entitled to associate with equally special people.
• They greatly exaggerate achievements and talents.
• They belittle and look down on people they perceive as inferior.
• They expect favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations.
• They manipulate and take advantage of others to get what they want.
• They're not willing to recognize the needs and feelings of others.
• They're arrogant and coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious.
• They insist on having the best of everything.
• They can't handle criticism.
• They become impatient or angry when they don't receive special treatment.
• They have significant interpersonal problems and easily feel slighted.
• They react with rage and belittle the other person to make themselves appear superior.
• They have difficulty regulating emotions and behavior.
• They have angry outbursts when dealing with stress.
• They have difficulty adopting to changes.
• They feel depressed and moody because they know they're not perfect.
• They hide feelings of insecurity, shame, vulnerability and humiliation.
• They don’t necessarily make good leaders, but they want the power and attention, so they’re more likely to end up in lead positions.
• They always manage to trail the conversation to talk about themselves.

You might tell them about your hip surgery but you can see it in their eyes that they're not hearing a word you're saying, but they're thinking about telling you their story, as soon as you shut up, when the doctor removed a splinter from their pinky.

You tell them about the award ceremony where you were recognized and honored, but you can read their expression of thinking about what they're going to say to belittle your achievement. 

How do you deal with narcissistic people?
Can you build a healthy relationship with them or as soon as your recognize the symptoms you stop interacting with them and run?

In some cases we have the freedom to escape toxic relationships, but sometimes we can't and must find our own way to deal with them the best we can.

I stopped at a garage sale to browse and found a few books and a Christmas bowl that I loved. I was walking toward the owner with my treasures when I heard a woman, standing by one of the tables, talking to her companion.

"Look, this rubber snake would be great to scare the squirrels away. They keep chewing their way into the attic."

"Yes, and it wiggles too," the other woman replied."

I turned to look and saw a plum woman holding up a snake by the tail. Snakes give me the heebie-jeebies, even rubber snakes, so I quickened my steps and reached the chair where the owner was sitting.

"How much you want for this snake?" The plump woman called over to the owner.

The owner seemed to be in deep thoughts for a few seconds staring at the snake in the woman's hand, and then she mumbled, "I don't have a rubber snake." And then she jumped up and screamed from the top of her lung, "Oh, my God! Throw it away!"

"What? Why?" The plumped woman asked looking confused, still holding up the wiggling snake by the tail.

"It's real! It's a cottonmouth," the owner yelled. "Throw it on the grass as far as you could."

The plump woman shook with fear, screamed, and flung her arm throwing the snake about ten feet away. The snake landed on the lawn with a thud and quickly slithered away.

The owner closed the garage sale and asked us to leave the property. The plump woman gasped for air and threatened the owner with a lawsuit, but her companion calmed her and trailed her to their car. I was happy to get out of there and heard the owner talking to animal control on her cell phone.

​I doubt I'll stop at any garage sale in the near future.

Halloween is just around the corner and this heroic fantasy story provides great entertainment to children 8-14. It's a great read-along story for children 6-8 as well.
Scroll the presentation below to read about the series or click on the page to read more:

I met Julia, and her mate, Julius, the day when we moved to our new home.

If you haven't been following the story of my crow friends in the Omen or Silly Superstition post series, read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.
​

I watched Julia and Julius raising their young and go about their daily business. After they did their beautiful mating ritual in the spring, they left their usual nest in the backyard and moved deeper into the woods and chose a secluded area to raise their young.
​ 

One spring I found their nesting place and watched from afar how Julia sat on the eggs and her family brought food for her. By then I read up on these majestic birds and knew that the young stay with their parents for about two years and help to raise the newly hatched siblings.

The young crows fed Julia with her favorite treat, earthworms. I watched them standing still in the clearing where the soil was rich and soft. They seemed to be listening for a few seconds, turning their heads, and then their strong beaks came down with a swift move, turning the soil. They picked up the exposed worms and swallowed a few before flying away with one wiggling in their beaks.

Although the young crows patrolled the property regularly, I missed seeing Julia and Julius in the morning. To my great disappointment, their usual sounds were replaced by the screeching cries of a pair of Blue Jays. Although they're beautiful birds, they're I preferred not to have them close to my bedroom window. Their loud chatter have the same effect on my nerves as the teacher's fingernails on the blackboard in second grade.

To my delight, the crows were annoyed by the Blue Jays too, as they were having breakfast in the back, and they angrily swooped down on the blue birds sounding a battle cry. The Blue Jays held on for a few minutes but after they received a few painful pecks by crow beaks, they decided to nest somewhere else.

A few weeks later my heart sank when I saw eight crows in the backyard. It reminded me of Grandma's verse: "Eight crows rarely appear but predict grief in one's life."

My day was filled with anxiety and fear. I kept thinking. Can they really predict something bad? I couldn't concentrate on work, I was waiting and hoping that nothing bad will happen.
When the phone rang after dinner, my nerves were frayed and I was ready to jump out of my skin. And the sad news came. My aunt who had end stage MS had passed away.

Was the gathering of the crows a prediction or just a coincidence? I may never know.  But from then on, I payed a lot more attention to the number of crows.

I'm a writer. Am I telling you a true story or part of it is true and part of it is the figment of my imagination? You decide!

This episode concludes my Crow Family Saga blog post series. As I'm recalling more and more memories of the past 28 years, I decided to write and publish the story of my crow friends as a book. It will take me a few months to write and edit it, but I will let you know when the book will be published.
​
Thank you for reading and sharing my posts and my books!

It gives me great joy when readers are enjoying my stories, and the only way I know about their opinion, if they write a review or send me a message.

My books have lost a lot of reviews do to policy changes of the selling sites. They banned a lot of avid readers and bloggers who gave very valuable feedback to authors.

The book sales dramatically dropped since pirate sites are stealing our books and offer it for free on click-bait and scammer websites, and I can't expect every reader who take interest in my books to go back to the selling site to write a review.

Therefore, I really don't know if readers like my stories, or not.
I have one birthday wish, watch the video to find out what it is.

I met Julia, and her mate, Julius, the day when we moved to our new home.

If you haven't been following the story of my crow friends in the Omen or Silly Superstition post series, read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.
​

About a year after we moved to our new home, a sweet dog showed up on the property. She was very skinny, timid and sick looking. We adopted her and named her Lucky.
You can read stories of her in my short story collection: Rainbows and Clouds. 

We almost lost Lucky but thanks to the vet, she pulled through and got better after the treatments for heartworm and Lyme disease. She became best friends with our cat and Julia. 
She also was named "the thief of the neighborhood" because, for a while, she carried home whatever she found on the neighbors' properties. 

The "gifts" included bed sheets, socks, sweaters, jeans from the clotheslines, small tools, bicycle helmet, shoes, and even a frozen turkey. We never found out if she watched Julia dropping small presents on the window seal and imitated her, or just did it on her own because she thought it was the right thing to do.

Lucky's diet was mostly home-cooked stew of chicken, turkey, and vegetables, which she happily shared with Julia, and Julia was very protective of the sweet-natured German Sheppard. She swooped down and pecked the neighbor's dog when he chased Lucky and badgered the hedgehog family, after Lucky had an encounter with them and went through the painful process or removing the sharp quills from her face, until they moved away.

When we met a couple and they started coming over to visit us, we noticed that Lucky was cautious of the man. She always kept an eye on him and was nervous when they visited. And then I found out why. He went out to his car to get something when I happened to be on the sun porch. I watched him walking to his car and Lucky scurrying to get out of his way.

She wasn't fast enough and he yelled at her, "Get out of my way you dirty mutt!" He lifted his foot to kick her but luckily, he was distracted by Julia and put his foot down. Lucky scrambled out of his way as Julia swooped down and snatched the man's baseball hat.

She flew away and dropped the hat on top of a bush at the back of the property. The man ran after her yelling and I stood by the back door, laughing.

After he retrieved his hat I told him that if he ever looks at my dog wrong way again, he will be banned from the property. He confessed that he has a deep-seated fear of dogs since he was attacked by one when he was a young child, but promised he will never yell at Lucky again or try to hurt her. 

But Julia didn't know about this agreement. Every time the man pulled into the driveway, she sounded the alarm for Lucky to hide. and the crow kept a close eye on him. She didn't snatch his hat again, but a few times she pooped on his car. She never did that when the man's wife pulled into the driveway with the same car. This proved to me that crows indeed hold grudges and recognize and remember people. 

Are crows really supernatural messengers? Find out next week.
​I'm a writer. Am I telling you a true story or part of it is true and part of it is the figment of my imagination? You decide!

If you're enjoying the story, bookmark this page or subscribe to my newsletter:

Many animals give gifts to members of their own species but crows and other corvids are the only ones known to give gifts to humans. Crows give presents to people who feed them and pay attention to them, or rescue them.

Autumn came in spectacular colors. The leaves turned colorful, all shades of yellow, orange, and red. The air was crisp, but the sun gave enough warmth to make the temperature comfortable. I put a light jacket on and went outside to sit on the patio to enjoy my afternoon coffee.

I rarely had a chance to enjoy nature in the City, I thought as I watched the squirrels and chipmunks scurrying about collecting acorns under the oak trees. It feels like I’m on vacation since we moved here... Loud cawing and barking snapped me out of my dreamy state.

I looked up and saw a huge Rottweiler chasing after a crow that seemed to be injured. It was barely able to lift itself up about a foot into the air and flopped down again. Another crow was flying above them, kept cawing and darted from the air to land on the dog’s head. The dog shook it off and swatted at the bird sending it flying and skidding on the fallen leaves.

I dropped my coffee cup, grabbed a broom and started running towards them. “Leave him alone you bad dog!” I yelled as I recognized the injured crow. It was the male, Julius. Julia gathered herself and flew at the dog, again.

When I was a few feet away from them, the dog growled and turned toward me showing his sharp fangs, saliva drooling from his mouth. I was scared. I had no idea where the dog came from. But I gathered enough courage to keep yelling at him and swung the broom to scare him away.

The dog didn’t budge, and I was scared to move closer, so I picked up a handful of gravel and threw it at the dog. A stone must have hit a painful spot because the dog yelped and ran into the bushes.

I sighed in relief and looked for the crows. My interaction with the strange dog gave them a chance to get away. I watched them as Julius struggled for a while to fly but soon managed to reach the lower branch of the pine tree.

Everything was quiet on the property for hours. The chipmunks and squirrels hid in their nests and I didn’t hear the usual chatter of small birds either.

The next morning Julius still perched on the lower branch of the tree and I saw Julia by his side. She flew away for short periods and came back with food in her beak. Julius ate the food and lowered his head, resting. I put walnuts, bits of fruit and pieces of raw meat on the tree stump for them before I drove to work.

Later that day when I pulled into the driveway after work, I saw four crows on the branch. “Four crows will predict imminent wealth.” Grandma’s rhyme came to mind. I don’t need millions; I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I thought and smiled, feeling foolish to have such thoughts. I need a good job and enough to live a comfortable life.

I watched the crows from my car and noticed that Julia seemed to give her mate a drink from her beak. He crouched on the branch and Julia hovered over him touching his open beak. Clever bird, I thought. She brought him water from the small creek that flows in the lower part of the property.

For about two weeks I saw the four crows on the branch, they took turns to feed Julius. Then one morning, he took a short, wobbly flight. From then on, he got stronger and stronger every day. A week later they left the branch, and I assumed, flew back to their nest in the far corner of the property and I didn't see the other two crows in the backyard any longer.

One morning something peculiar happened. As I was heading outside, I saw Julia through the window by the back door. She flew to the windowsill and dropped something before flying away. Curious, I stepped out and looked at the windowsill. There was a torn finger of a blue rubber glove. I don’t use blue rubber gloves, where did she get it from, and why did she bring it here? I wondered, but then I remembered that the past week or so I kept finding small, blue items on the windowsill.

At first, I thought the wind blew there the blue jay feather, pieces of blue paper, plastic wire covering, part of a plastic bag, and a piece of blue knitting yarn, but now I realized it was Julia who kept putting “presents” on my windowsill.

Crows see colors and maybe she noticed that my favorite color is teal blue. Maybe that was her way of showing gratitude for helping to save her mate. I will never find out.
I never saw the Rottweiler again, maybe his owner visited a neighbor and he got away to go on a hunting adventure.
 
Do crows hold grudges? Find out next week.
I'm a writer. Am I telling you a true story or part of it is true and part of it is the figment of my imagination? You decide!

If you're enjoying the story, bookmark this page or subscribe to my newsletter:

If you like paranormal, occult stories, you might want to check out the Women of Willow Wood series by a dear friend, Lorraine Carey. 
​
I designed the book covers and book interior, and I really enjoyed the story.

Book 3 is coming soon which I can hardly wait to read.
​Secret Societies have existed for eons, but nothing can match the powerful magic and lure such as the Women of the Willow Wood!

After we settled into our new home, we always heard and saw a group of crows in the backyard, so we thought they were nesting close by. The property is surrounded by acres of tall and busy pine trees as well as oak and willow trees and thick bushes of all kinds. They have plenty of spaces to pick the best nesting site.

They were watching us all the time, especially the female crow, Julia. It's hard to tell them apart, but I noticed that the male was slightly larger and his voice was a little deeper, so not knowing for sure, I assumed their gender. 

Julia's favorite perching place was a tree stump in the back where she could see the house and the entire front yard. She stood there for hours silently watching, and sometimes the male joined her for a short time. It was creepy at first, but we quickly got used to their presence.

I always saw and heard the two of them and I thought about Grandma's little verse: Two announce the arrival of upcoming good luck.

"Keep bringing us good luck." I told Julia who was watching me from a branch when a few times a week I put walnuts and small scraps of meet on the tree stump before I drove to work. This kind of became a routine and after a few days, she started acknowledging me with a head-bob and a short caw, as if greeting me or thanking me.

Weeks went by and one day I noticed something peculiar. I heard Julia cawing twice when I walked down the driveway to greet my daughter who was getting off the school bus. The next morning Julia cawed twice again in the morning and in the afternoon before the school bus showed up at the end of the driveway.

I thought about it and realized that she'd been doing that for weeks. I started paying more attention and noticed that she was silent on weekends and on days when the school was closed. Smart and observant bird, I thought and started paying more attention to her.

One afternoon Julia was alone when I got out of my car after work. I didn't see or heard her mate as usual, but I thought he was out feeding and went into the house. 

The next morning Julia was alone, again, and cawed 3-4 times when I got into my car. I drove a few miles and suddenly, my car swirled and shook. It scared the breath out of me, but I managed to pull over. I had a flat tire. "Just great!" I mumbled while changed the tire. "My boss will not believe me when I tell him why I'm late."

At work, I slipped on a glob of butter that fell off the breakfast cart, and I pulled the muscle in my leg trying to brace myself. Then Grandma's verse popped into my mind as I limped down the long hospital hall: One crow alone and your life turns to muck.

Could it be true or am I losing my mind? I thought alarmed as I recalled slicing my finger while cutting vegetables for dinner the night before, and then stubbing my toe stumbling to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  

I got through the shift after a pen exploded in my pocket, and I managed to spill tomato soup on my uniform top. What else is going to happen? I thought on the way home. I drove cautiously keeping to the speed limit and kept both hands on the steering-wheal prepared for another flat tire.

When I pulled into the driveway, the first thing I did was look for the crows. Phew! I sighed in relief when I saw the pair perching on the oak branch, side by side.

From then on the weeks went by uneventfully, until Julia showed up alone, again.

Next time I'll tell you more about Julia and her family.

I'm a writer. Am I telling you a true story or part of it is true and part of it is the figment of my imagination? You decide!
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If interested, you can read more of my blog posts HERE.
And visit my Reading Room HERE, you might like some of my stories.
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It's believed by many that crows are a symbol of bad luck and death, but crows may be a symbol of life magic and mysteries. They also symbolize intelligence, flexibility and destiny.

We moved to our new home in '91 and the moving day didn't go as smoothly as we planned. My hubby was the manager of the co-op building we used to live in, and of course, this had to happen on our moving day. The water pipe broke on the 14th floor, as the movers loaded the truck, flooding the apartments below. My hubby couldn't make the over 100-mile drive with us, he had to stay to make it sure that everyone in the building was safe, the pipes fixed, and the water damage cleaned up. My young daughter and I had to drive behind the moving truck and supervise the moving of furniture and countless boxes into our new home.

The three hours drive went smoothly but one mile from our new home, one of my tires blew. I honked to the truck driver, he parked the truck and changed my tire.

Finally, we pulled into the driveway and the driver and two helpers started unloading the furniture and boxes as our friend, Marie, who lived close by, arrived to help.

"What a noisy bunch you got back there," Marie said as I picked up a box. I was so busy before but now I heard the squabbling crows in the back of the property. They made quite a ruckus and the driver of the moving truck, Pedro, seemed to be annoyed by the noise, and I detected a bit of fear in his eyes.

"Crows are a bad omen," he huffed as he was sliding the sofa from the truck toward his helpers.

Marie looked at me with worry in her eyes. "Yeah, I heard that too." 

I remembered what my superstitious grandma told me about crows and said to them, "When crows live by and a single crow visits you, it's considered an omen of bad luck, indeed. But look!" I pointed to the clearing between the old cottages in the backyard where two crows now stood, quietly watching us. "There are two of them which means good luck. It's a good omen, don't worry."

​"Really?" Marie asked, surprised. "Tell me more. Yesterday there were seven of them noisy birds in my backyard, and I shooed them away."

"Oh! You shouldn't have done that! According to grandma, seven crows showing up in your yard are the sign of travel or a major, positive change in your life."

"Snap!" Marie exclaimed. "Then I shouldn't have shooed them away! There goes my vacation plan." She laughed nervously, still eyeing the crows.

"What if there are three crows?" Pedro asked with worry in his voice. "My mother was born in Mexico and she always warns me about omens and signs."

"Well, my Hungarian grandmother had a rhyme or saying for just about anything, let me try to give you a rough translation of her little verse."

One crow alone and your life turns to muck.
Two announce the arrival of upcoming good luck.
Three brings news of happiness and good health.
Four crows will predict imminent wealth.
Five foretells of sickness for a period of time.
Six warns of disaster, theft or pinching of dime.
Seven suggests travel and positive changes in time.
Eight crows rarely appear but predict grief in one's life.

"Oh, my!" Pedro cried out. "I have to write this down and show it to my mother."
​
"Take it with a grain of salt." I laughed. "Grandma wasn't a supernatural expert, she just recited what she learned for her superstitious parents."

We spent the day unpacking the kitchen boxes and bedding after the movers left. Once in a while I looked out the windows and saw the crows flying up a pine tree. Later I saw them standing on a tree stump in the back, flying up to the oak tree and back down to the grass again. it was quite clear that they were watching the house.

My daughter had enough excitement for the day and curled up on the couch to watch TV. I made coffee, and Marie and I sat by the back door trying to relax our aching muscles.

"They're still watching us," Marie observed.

"They seem to be a mated pair," I said as I stood up. "I have walnut in the cupboard, I'll give them a few pieces."

With two walnut halves in my hand, I slowly walked toward the back of the property, toward the tree stump which seemed to be the pair's favorite perching place. When I got closer, talking softly I extended my arm and showed them the walnuts in my palm. They flew off lazily and landed about fifty yards from the tree stump, watching my every move.

I placed the walnuts on the tree stump and walked back to the house. Thinking of the birds,  Julius and Julia jumped into my mind and Marie thought they were good names for the pair.

Did I make a mental connection with the crows and they told me their names?
I will never know, but I always keep my mind open for possibilities. However, the past 28 years we've been living on the property, with the crows in the backyard, in harmony.  

Next week I'll tell you stories about my friendship with Julia and her family.

I'm a writer. Am I telling you a true story or part of it is true and part of it is the figment of my imagination? You decide!

A few authors asked me how I make my blog posts look so neat on Goodreads.
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4264484.Erika_M_Szabo/blog

​I made this video and tried to explain it as simply as possible.

If you find this video useful, feel free to share it with author friends and in your groups. The audio quality is not top-notch because I can't afford a good system, but I hope it's clear enough to be helpful.
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We're in this publishing jungle together and help each other.

A spider had found its way into my room, and as usual, I gently swept it into a box and carried it outside. Walking to the back of the property I let the spider out of the box on the porch of the old, rundown cottage. "Make your home here," I said to the spider. "You'll be happier here than in my room."

As I walked back to the house I thought about Kati. She was my childhood friend, the gentlest person I've ever met. Even as a young child she was constantly aware of the surroundings, especially living creatures.
"They deserve to live a happy life," she would say.
"Don't step on that flower, it's so beautiful!" she warned me when we played in the field.
"Watch out! The ants are carrying a grub to their nest. Walk over there!"

Kati’s influence made me a better person. She passed away when we were seventeen. She had an inoperable brain tumor. But her gentle, loving nature had a huge impact on who I am today. Was that the purpose of her short life? To teach people to respect the life of every living creature?
 
Remembering Kati made me think about how we touch people’s heart and even influence them every day. We don’t even think about it, but a look, a touch, or a few words could make a huge impact on someone’s life.

I'll always remember people who showed kindness, respect, and acknowledged me as a person.
The woman with a full shopping cart told me to go ahead of her in line because I only had a head of lettuce in my hand.
The young man who gave me his seat on the bus when I was pregnant.
The construction worker who paid for my coffee when someone stole my valet out of my purse in the line in the coffee shop.
The nurse who sat with me quietly, holding my hand, when my mom passed away in the hospital.

Did anyone leave a mark on your soul?
Did anyone with words, actions, or showing an example make you want to be a better person and pass on the kindness you've been shown by others?

~Erika M Szabo

​Critique is a detailed analysis, assessment, and evaluation in a detailed and analytical way.
Criticism is the expression of disapproval based on perceived faults or mistakes.
​A review is a form of subjective critique that expresses the reader's opinion.

Being a writer is hard and building critique is important to every writer. 
Authors need feedback in order to grow as writers and the goal of the person who critiques an author's work is to point out the areas that need improvement, without crushing the author's spirit. 

Every writer goes through different stages of their writing career and even those, who are just at the beginning, need encouragement.

A good critique is a valuable feedback that the author can use to make the story even better, and therefore more likely to be loved by many others. Authors need feedback to improve their overall writing skills.

​I often read reviews posted on fellow authors' books who write the same genre, and sometimes I'm amazed at how well some readers point out in their reviews the areas that need improvement. Such as being more consistent and clear with the storyline, dialog, and character development. These reviews are very valuable to any author no matter what stage they are in their writing careers.

I'm not an expert when it comes to grammar, and I tend to write long-winded, complicated sentences. This reader managed to point it out in a building way while stated what she liked in  the story:

"What really bothered me about the book was that it didn't seem to have been edited. And not just normal eBook errors. There were homonym errors and structural sentence errors! Somebody needs to have a talk with that editor.
But, overall, mostly very enjoyable. Fresh idea. I will be reading the sequel."

I've found a great editor who helped me snip and split my complicated sentences without changing the story and edited the homonym words, therefore, the second edition of the story was well edited.

Moreover, I had ideas to change and add to the story, which reflects in the third edition, again edited by a great editor. And because the story got too long, I split the two books into a trilogy.  Now I'm almost satisfied with the story. 

The third edition doesn't have any reviews posted yet, so I'm eagerly waiting. According to statistics, one of about every hundred reads result in a review, and my books are not there yet.

If you're a fan of historical fantasy, magical realism with time travel, click to read about the trilogy on this PAGE

Isaac Asimov said, “Writers fall into two groups: Those who bleed copiously and visibly at any bad review, and those who bleed copiously and secretly at any bad review.”

Yes, bad reviews hurt, no matter what anyone tells you.
But reviews such as the following few are just simply hurtful and don't help the author:
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"Horrible read."
"Waste of time... good grief!"
"Is fantasy so dire and bleak. This is unreadable."
"Just words on paper."
"Like propping up some sticks and calling it a fire - this book has no spark."
"Total Junk, did not finish."
"Could not get past the poor writing to finish the book."

Some of Stephen King’s latest novels received up to 500 one-star/two star reviews on Amazon.
Famous writers get bad reviews. As a matter of fact, the most famous books have at least 6 to 10% one start reviews.

Bad reviews are not a death sentence for a book.
In a twisted way, bad reviews give a book legitimacy because their very presence indicate that the good reviews must be genuine.
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A reader told me once in my post's comments when I was feeling a bit down about a one star review: "If I see nothing but 5 stars I’m thinking the author got all his friends, family and associates to write a lot of butt-kissing reviews."

Reader and writers, share your experiences!

Some people have such talkative faces that I can read their minds almost word for word.
Others with expressionless faces make me nervous because I never know what they're thinking behind the "frog face" I call it.

Today when we finished lunch at the diner, my hubby stopped in the bathroom and I went out to the parking lot to wait for him in the car.

A woman about my age with heavy makeup and two pounds gold and diamonds all over her body was right behind me. I opened the passenger door, turned to get in, and I happened to look at her face.

She glanced at my car and then me with an expression that told me what she was thinking: "Scratch my f****g car with that piece of junk and I'll sue your ass off."

Then as I put my foot in the car and sat down, her expression changed. Clearly she was thinking as she stared at my face for a second while touching the pea-size diamond on her finger: "She doesn't have makeup on and she looks better than me. She must use Botox. She's not married but she was with a man in the restaurant."

I closed the door and rolled the window down while she unlocked her BMW and sat in still looking at me. I could guess what she was thinking: "I'm better than you!"

That smug "I'm better than you" expression on her face did it! I said to her, "Ma'am, I really like my old Subaru, it's been faithfully taking me to places the past nineteen years. I don't wear makeup, never had Botox, and I only use almond oil as moisturizer. I'm happily married but I don't like to wear jewelry. You felt the need to feel sorry for me and look down on me because I don't own an expensive car and don't wear jewelry to show my status. Did I read your mind correctly? By the way, first expressions are usually wrong." I smiled at her.

The surprised expression on her face was priceless. She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it grasping for air. Finally she managed to croak out, "What... are you... are you a mind reader or something?"

"Did I guess correctly what you were thinking?" I asked.

"Well, um... you did. Word for word, except I wasn't thinking that you look nice, but I thought that your skin is fu***g gorgeous without makeup and you must have had a chemical peal or something. I was jealous, I admit."

My hubby got in the car so I said to the woman, "Have a nice day, ma'am."

We drove away but she might still be in that parking lot trying to figure it out what happened and who I was. She might be thinking that I'm really a mind reader and will never realize that she wears her judgment, jealousy, and smugness, on her face. 
 
Living in a mansion, driving the most expensive car, looking like a Christmas tree decorated with gold and diamonds, might make life more comfortable, but it doesn't make anyone better or worth more than others.

At the end, we all go out in a box leaving everything behind. What makes a difference is how people we connect will remember us. 

I'm pretty sure something like this happened to you a few times in your life. Tell me about it!

​~Erika M Szabo
​Author of fantasy, short stories, and children's books.
Click to read my PORTFOLIO