Classic writer Thomas Hardy and a vintage cottage…

cropped-image2.jpgHow quaint, lovely, and idyllic! The classic British writer, Thomas Hardy, was born here in 1840. The cottage itself had been built by his great-grandfather. Though educated as an architect/builder, writing was his passion. Humble roots and literary genius!

I love vintage houses and classic literature!

Deborah A. Bowman

The Woman … What does she seek? (Poetry and Watercolor)

What does she seek?

Her vision is intense and defined.

Is that stone wall rising before her eyes

Really there or only in her mind?

I can feel the pressure in her breast as she sighs.

The tree behind her has lost its leaves.

Stark weathered branches reaching to the sky.

Is that a symbol for whom she grieves?

Does she even know or wonder why?

The pine brings life into her reach,

But she is looking away from the greenery.

What is above her that she doth seek?

What turns her away from the luscious scenery?

Is it real or is it merely how she feels?

Grief … the consummate, ultimate thief. 

–Deborah A. Bowman



Times of the past that beckon towards the future… This was written in 2014. Is it still there? I intend to find out! We need our heritage to support us to go forward again!

image (2)

I’m much more of a word painting person than a photographer, but I took this picture of The Buttery Restaurant in Lewes, Delaware. It was recommended to me by a dear friend, and I am so grateful. All she gave me was the name of the restaurant and said that the food was wonderful. By its name I was expecting a converted farmhouse attached to what was once a dairy or creamery. I was, however, pleasantly surprised by what we found. The garden speaks for itself!

I was curious that on the website, the menu, the establishment itself  there was no history of this beautiful old mansion. From the proprietor I learned the following facts I would like to share, having asked and received permission.

Lewes is the oldest continuously inhabited city on the east coast. Who knew? This mansion was built by a Captain Morris in 1890 for his new bride. From the upstairs windows, I’m sure she could watch for his ship returning to her from afar. Almost a full block in size, she must have been lost and lonely while he was at sea. No one seems to know their story, but my author’s heart begs to create a love story of tragic proportions. Happily ever after seems not to be in the picture, but darkness does not dwell in this beautiful mansion, either.

I was told that the “Trapper” family owned the mansion for many years. Again, the history is vague, but the aura is tranquil mystique with just a hint of sadness.

The mansion fell upon hard times and became a boarding house, a Tea-Room, and may have been left to deteriorate. This definitely creates sadness for such a vintage architectural marvel of American history.

The mansion was purchased and refurbished to its current stateliness in 1999. I could have gone to the real estate records, perhaps, for more information, but it would have overshadowed walking in the footsteps of the past.

I felt warmth in this house of mystery. If it is haunted, it is haunted with love!

Deborah A. Bowman, author

Second & Savannah, Lewes, DE 19958; (302) 645-7755 (written with permission). This was sent to the establishment to be used as they desired. I heard it had changed hands again. My search begins…


Strength Surfaces in Times of Unheaval. Be the Catalyst!

woman in upward facing dog pose
Dare to be more each day!

Sometimes we have to go to the depths of despair to find the core of our being. This has been just such a year for everyone on a global scale. We have to regroup and become the CATALYST!

smiling man holding woman s left shoulder
How do we go on? By believing in each other!

Dwelling on the past, however, has never helped anyone. The future cannot change, redeem, or soften the past. It is what it is, and we all must accept it. Acceptance, though, is not in hiding from the past, but rather in learning from the past. That is how all of us, one at a time, can look to a greater tomorrow. One small act of kindness is the CATALYST!

Everyone was touched by the virus. We have all looked death in the eye and watched strong, remarkable people succumb to its ghastly demise: wives, husbands, lovers, family members, friends, co-workers, celebrities, world leaders, politicians, doctors, nurses, police officers, first responders, the military, the old, the young, children.

All races, ethnicities, countries, cities, towns, villages, etc., have been touched and reminded of our own humanity. It does no good to get caught up in statistics and numbers and what groups of people are more vulnerable than others because we have seen it change, augment, mutate, expand, decline, and then rise its ugly head again to devour another  statistic. So, find a drop of strength to become the CATALYST!

women looking at the camera
No one is immune!

Whether you reflect in sadness or fantasize about happier times returning, let go! Live your life! But do so safely and responsibly, thinking not only of self or country, but of the entire planet which is home to all. We who remain must be strong enough to be the CATALYST!

person with a face mask and latex gloves holding a globe
Love and respect our home.

These are the hardest words I have ever penned. I may not be much of a CATALYST, but I know my strength is in my writing. I choose to use my strength to face the future. Wish me luck and life! The same to all of you! 

Blessings and love to all the CATALYSTS out there whose STRENGTH and DETERMINATION will give every one of us a new tomorrow. I am writing to every soul upon this planet in memory of every soul we have loved and lost.

–Deborah A. Bowman Stevens

close up of tree against sky

Time is of the essence!

Time marches on!

brass pocket watches
Tick Tock

Time transcends into our lives.

We either have too much

Or emptiness seems to thrive

Into all the such and such

That envelopes our essence.

How do we hit “refresh”?


Wouldn’t it be sweet

If we could set back the clocks

To give us days and weeks

Years and decades to rock

Our world into submission?

We are left in derision…


Too much times on our hands

Can be useless and boring.

Not enough time lands

Us in chaos, soaring

Us into obsession

Or hopeless depression.


The system doesn’t seem fair.

How did it become so flawed?

We really have to care

On the seconds we trod

Upon that add up to nothing.

No one, no hope, no feelings, nothing.


A silent death

That steals the rest

Of our shining essence.

You guessed it!

We have wasted away bit by bit.

woman looking at sea while sitting on beach
Lost in time, conceived in rhyme.

By Deborah A. Bowman












When should a professional editor be used? When a writer of words wants to become an author.

Perfection in Editing

Many editors learned professional skills initially to support their own writing, but we quickly found out that we are not the best judge of our own work and probably the worst possible proofreader. All functions of our organic brain. Those biological functions we were born with that are impossible to disengage.

I recently saw a statistic on Twitter that most writers/authors are “editing” and “proofreading” their own work. And a large percentage of them aren’t editors or proofreaders . Yet, even if they were, doing it for yourself is a fool’s errand.

I get it … we have an idea; we start a book; it’s thrilling to be so engaged. But we have to make a living too. So we write at night, in the wee hours of the morning, get caught up in word counts and number of pages where “Haste makes waste” and quality may suffer.

Okay, then we think our book is finished. We think we have a best seller. Our friends and even our families sometimes support us. All good. Then, we supposedly start “editing”, finetuning. If I could change one inaccurate perception in the definition or connotation of one word, it would be this one.

You are not editing when you go through your own manuscript. You are “checking” your writing for all kinds of things. Yet, your brain sees what it expects to see, so missed words, wrong words, misspelled words, discrepancies in plot, inconsistencies can all go unnoticed. That doesn’t even take into consideration verb tenses, grammar, punctuation, and pace, flow, readability. But that’s okay since its accepted in the industry to have a few little flaws, isn’t it? We find them ourselves in other books, but not in “our books” because our brain reads right over them.

Those “little flaws” can stop an agent or publisher from reading any further. Reject it and move on because they have an inexhaustible supply of manuscripts to wade through. 

I also get it that money is tight. We need to get this to press in a hurry, start making money right away so we can write full-time and become one of the great writers of our generation. If only that were true.

The most productive use of a writer’s time and investment is in using a professional editor. Editors who are also authors use other professional editors for their own work. It is so true that we need an unbiased second set of eyes.

Do I use a professional editor and proofreader other than myself after I am finished “checking” my manuscript?

I answer you with  a definite, “YES”.

Don’t sell yourself or your writing short. The facts are out there. Your manuscript must be written to full industry standards. Your query letter professional.  Format must be correct.

“What? You mean as an author I need to know how to format my own book? Isn’t that what the agent and publisher are for?”

Ah, no, the market is too clogged with books for an agent to do anything but look for the one diamond that may someday come across their desk.

It’s a totally different market out there than our predecessors knew. The competition is brutal. Everyone is writing a book because with current technology, they can. This was not true in the past. The sheer numbers are daunting.

My most important advice? “The market is oversaturated. Put yourself on an even playing field. Submit a professional product.”

I am willing to work with authors offering affordable rates on a case-by-case basis. A 5-page read/ professional critique is free. Questions are free. I’m trying to help writers become authors.

–Deborah A. Bowman, bowmaneditor








woman comforting friend
Show you care by Understanding

Understanding is a complex theory.

Figuring it out can make one weary.

Because what I understand

And what you understand

May be exact opposites in design.

There is no reason or rhyme

For up and down

And all around.

Just know that basic truths

Will always be the proof.

Deborah A. Bowman


The United States of America! Still the greatest country in the World!

A little glitch…

A little hitch…

Well, okay, not so “little”…

We endure…

We persevere…

We keep going…

Always knowing…


“Oh, say can you see…”

Yes, I can!!!!!

Deborah A. Bowman

eagle and flag

The death of my beloved pet, Molly…

Queen Molly

Molly wearing a bracelet crown upon her wee head.

I dreamed of Molly last night. She was a kitten, running and jumping and spinning around in a beautiful garden. The first thing she said was that she had never seen the sun. Which is true… She was outside only once in all of her 20 years, and it was in the middle of a thunderstorm. She was chasing and playing with a tiny yellow butterfly. Then she thanked me for getting her help from the nice man she used to see every year. “He picked me up and hugged me and loved me like he used to do” … that’s Dr. Wahls, her veterinarian. “Then he gave me a little sharp tap (needle), and I suddenly felt good again. I thought I’d be going home to you, Mommy! I could see him and the nice lady who hugged me too, but I couldn’t move. I was calm and relaxed. The nice man was crying a little bit like you, Mommy. Just a little bit. He petted me but I couldn’t feel it. I wanted to put my head under his hand like I do with you, Mommy, when I want you to pet me and rub my ears. But I couldn’t move my head, but it was okay. I felt so much better! Then something shiny, long and thin, smaller than the pens you write stories with. He put it on my fur near my neck, but I didn’t feel anything. Then I just went to sleep like I do on our bed, Mommy, and I woke up in the sunshine. The grass whispered to me what sunshine is. Then this little creature flew over to me. We are playing tag. I am so happy here. But the flying bug with wings said Mommy couldn’t come be with me yet. I was a little sad, but the flowers showed me how to look down and see you. So Mommy you can look up and see me too, any time you want. Thank you, Mommy, for listening to me when I told you it was time to go. I didn’t think you heard me at first. But you did, and now I’m here! Oh, Mommy, guess what? I can see again! I will be with you all the time, and we can talk whenever you want to. Mommy Debbie, why are you crying? Are those happy tears? I…ROVE…U… You taught me to say that. I remember… U…ROVE…ME!”


IMG_20171119_093410Many of my readers who have followed me for a long time will remember my spokesperson, Molly the cat. She went to live in heaven last week after a beautiful, long life of 20 years. Molly was rescued by my father and nursed back to health after a traumatic beginning in life. She had her own video, which was seen by people all over the world. 

Molly was also a character in my YA Series of Books, Delilah Astral Projection Series. She will live forever in my books.

Deliliah, Episode Two, eBook cover, 1-16-18

It has taken me over a week to be able to impart my sad news to the world. I know that my Molly is in heaven. I will use the words of my own sister who is a Veterinarian. She was at her first job after getting her degree of V.M.D. from the University of Pennsylvania. A young woman approached my sister after getting the sad news that her cat had passed. “Will my cat be waiting for me in heaven?” My sister did not skip a breath or a heartbeat, but immediately said, “Would it be heaven without them?”

No, it would not be heaven without the pets in our lives. Molly is with my father Daddy Harry Bowman, who saved her life. She is also with my husband, Daddy Sidney. They all dwell in heaven together. I send my love!

Deborah A. Bowman 

Tree of Life

flight landscape nature sky

The Tree of Life is knocking at our door.

Look at the leaves and twigs and branches,

Intermingling and connecting to give us more

Of what we’ve had before.

Does the growth and stagnation end for new chances

To begin with new sprouts of fresh green limbs?

Rest on solid ground and gaze upward

Into the maze of branches that allow us to soar!

by Deborah A. Bowman