Writing is My Game–Editing and Mentoring My Fame

My Annie Doll, Computer, Kindle, Glasses, Flash Drive, and Keyboard

This is where the magic begins, blends, comes together, and ends

I take no blame and express no shame

In the fact that Annie’s existence has inspired me with no resistance.

This is where the characters come alive and strive

To capture my attention and create an intervention

They cry, laugh, giggle and speak to compete

With all the books waiting to be complete

They seek meaning and life through my acting and reacting

The doll’s name is Annie and she is Blessed With a Gift

Due to be released this year

Annie will share her fears and tears

Her love, happiness, and sadness

But most of all, she wants to share her love

Blessed With A Gift of white light healing

She gives her life and her strife

As a child, mother and wife

It’s so sad she will never hold her daughter

But she will live on in verse and historical fiction

Annie is the character who caused the most friction

Her voice will be heard…

In my story and my words…

God Bless Annie from the mid-1600s

In a Colonial America

Continue to follow bowmanauthor.com

For excerpts, reviews, comments,  and songs

About Annie’ s Story, Blessed With A Gift

And the upcoming release as my spirits lift

5 thoughts on “Writing is My Game–Editing and Mentoring My Fame

    1. A friend’s mother-in-law made these over 50 years ago. I was blessed to be able to purchase 3 of these antiques, but this particular doll was a gift from my friend because she reminded her of how I have described Annie.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Olga, I grew up going to antique stores, helping my mother search for antique picture frames. My mother is an artist, oil paintings. At 93, recovering well from a massive stroke in late 2016, she is painting beautifully again. I never forgot those trips to tiny, dusty antique shops. I started a little game with my baby sits to amuse her as my mother searched and pondered. I would touch an object and then just start telling stories about the owner, sometimes generations of them, or total strangers, who had left their imprint and life’s story on the item. Many years later, I would learn about psychometric energy and gradually I realised that, perhaps, the stories were true and I had been blessed with a gift, like my dear, precious Annie.


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