Thursday, November 13, 2014

My Story… As a Writer.

I'm excited to welcome fellow Astraea Press author, Ariella Moon to my blog today.   

Ariella has a brand new release out titled, Spell for Sophia: Book 4 The Teen Wytche Saga.

  Thank you Mya for featuring me on your blog today. It is such a pleasure to be here!

My Writer’s Journey

I first thought of myself as a writer when I won a national essay contest in sixth grade. My ability to write well gave me a definite advantage during college where I graduated summa cum laude, and received a Bachelor’s and Master’s Degree in Art History. But my love of writing fiction — creating absorbing unique worlds — didn’t come into play until my daughter learned to read. She was a voracious reader and tested off the charts in reading and comprehension. The problem became finding big enough books for her that were age appropriate. So I wrote an award winning but never published fantasy trilogy for her.

Now with Spell For Sophia, my fourth Young Adult paranormal romance in the Teen Wytche Saga about to launch, I better understand why my earlier trilogy didn’t sell. Thank goodness it didn’t! Someday I will go back and make the necessary revisions that are now so glaringly obvious to me. Perhaps my daughter, who has been my beta reader for the Teen Wytche Saga, will revisit the trilogy with me. After all, in many ways we’ve been on this writer’s journey together.

Spell For Sophia by Ariella Moon (The Teen Wytche Saga #4)

Sometimes the worst scars are the ones you cannot see.

Sophia Perez-Hidalgo’s survival depends upon her mastering magic and the supernatural before her lawless parents and their vengeful boss catch up to her. How far must she flee to escape them forever? Sophia runs until she’s out of stolen money, then…Fate delivers her into the arms of Louisiana teen Shiloh Breaux Martine, and his grand-mèrea voodoo priestess living deep in the bayou.

Breaux knows Sophia is trouble — but he’ll travel through time, battle zombies, and risk his bright future to protect her. While Ainslie, best friend extraordinaire, will jeopardize her sanity to find and aid Sophia. When friendship, magic, and love are not enough, Sophia will have to save herself. But first, she must believe she’s worth saving. 

Breaux followed me onto the streetcar and bought day passes with exact change. I scanned the streetcar's vintage interior for two seats together. I ignored the pinched brows and alarmed stares from our fellow passengers. Most of them fixated on a point behind me. With dismay I realized Breaux's blood-soaked bandana was drawing too much attention. Someone was bound to notice his uncanny resemblance to the congressman. The last thing we needed was to derail the time-space continuum or spark rumors.
The migraine over my eye throbbed.
I discovered an empty row toward the back and claimed the window seat. Breaux shoved our passes into his jeans pocket, then roosted beside me. He placed the backpack at his feet and kept his chin down. His hands trembled and twitched against his thighs. Caffeine, sugar, and shock, I thought. The cloth over his gash sported blood in varying shades of red. It appeared wet and sticky. The sight of it made me queasy and I had to swallow hard. Breaux's ashen pallor hadn't improved. Worry worsened my stomach. Breaux needed to go to the hospital and get stitched up. Someone should x-ray him and see if he had a fracture or concussion. Or both.
Merciful Mary, please help us complete whatever must be done here so we can return to our own time.
A flicker of color flashed outside the window. I swiveled toward it, thinking maybe it was a flag. Wrong! The hints of gold and red sprung from a wispy paisley top worn by an African-American teen hovering several feet off the ground. My brain registered, ghost! My hand flew to my mouth to muffle a shriek.
The movement must have caught the ghost's eye. She zoomed to the window and pressed her nose against the glass. I shrank against Breaux. The wraith's peace sign necklace swung through the pane, almost touching my chin before it dropped. The temperature plummeted several degrees.
I shot Breaux a furtive sideways glance. His attention was fixed on Nervous Guy, who was making his way toward us. The ghost bracketed her face with her hands and peered through the window. Brackish swamp smells assaulted my nose. Water dripped from her long curly Afro and slid down the sides of her hands and onto the windowpane. I wondered if she could hear my heart thundering.
"Are you the Mexican?" the wraith asked.
My eyes widened. Is the drug cartel employing ghosts? Speechless, my gaze darted across her face. She's no older than Breaux. Unlike Mam'zelle, whose spirit had transitioned into a being of light, the ghost still retained her human form and the clothes she must have been wearing when she died. Her skin, though blue-gray in death, still showed patches of its former nutmeg color. She had Breaux's nose.
The ghost pointed a wet finger. "Is he Shiloh Breaux Martine?"
"Umm. Breaux…" My fingers dug into his thigh.

Buy Links for the Teen Wytche Saga

Author Bio
Ariella spent her childhood searching for a magical wardrobe that would transport her to Narnia. Extreme math anxiety, and taller students who mistook her for a leaning post, marred her youth. Despite these horrors, she graduated summa cum laude from the University of California at Davis. Ariella is a Reiki Master, author, and shaman. She lives a nearly normal life with her extraordinary daughter, two shamelessly spoiled dogs, and an enormous dragon.

Connect with Ariella Moon


  1. That's a lovely reason to start writing!

  2. Thank you, Helen! And thank you Mya for the lovely feature!
    ~Ariella Moon

  3. You're welcome, it's great to have you here!