Cover for Pre-Launch Collectible Edition of “Annie’s Story, Blessed With a Gift” It’s on order for those of you with reservations. And thanks again, so much!


Annie is Done. What do I do now? I have no words … “Annie’s Story, Blessed With A Gift” (sequel in 2017)

Annie in custodyAnnie pictureHangingwitches

Annie's Final 6x9 Cover
A painting by my mother, an incredible artist (oil painting 18×24-inch on canvas). The forest is integral to Annie, who is based on a past-life regression. In essence, I am Annie!
Blessed With A Gift Cover
Annie lives in her own world. She talks to the animals and faeries. Quoted from ANNIE’S STORY: BLESSED WITH A GIFT–“Annie is an enigma.”

Launch of My Past-Life Regression Historical Fiction Book, Hoping for August First

Blessed With A Gift Cover
Annie lives in her own world. She talks to the animals and faeries. Quoted from ANNIE’S STORY: BLESSED WITH A GIFT–“Annie is an enigma.”

Getting down to the end of final corrections and rewrites for Annie’s Book, Blessed With a Gift, I can see the end in sight, but how do I stop the tears? Will they be happy or sad tears? Does it matter?

Yes, I suppose it does. You’ll just have to read it to find out. Information on how you can get a copy due to be posted by August. Wish me and Annie luck, love and laughter.We’re both gonna need it.

Deborah A. Bowman, author

What is she thinking?
What is the reader thinking in the trapped pages of a forgotten volume of antiquity?

Annie comes from the past, but will live forever in your hearts.


Annie Doll on my desk.

Annie picture

Annie drawing

Annie’s  from mid-1600s America. She is Blessed With A Gift or is she cursed? How do you know for sure? I think her love for animals says much about her love for everything.

Read about the treatment of children and women in The British Colonies. You may not be prepared for the treatment of children born with birth defects. ‘Twas sad, when wee Annie had so much love and healing to give. But what if she is misunderstood? Superstition ruled the land, but who ruled the people, especially during the 19 years when England, Scotland, and France were involved in an atrocious civil war. The colonies were forsaken. Turmoil ruled. The documented history you probably weren’t taught in grade school. Can Annie be saved when everyone loves her? Is love enough? I truly hope so.


Annie lived 40-50 years prior to the Witch Hysteria. Annie should be safe, but …

iris the goat 2
Iris the Goat is also known as “Missy Unicorn”

Enjoy Annie’s happiness and spirit as a healer and herbalist. She’s a happy little girl. She’s a savant and a telepathic receiver, and above average in some aspects of her life, but she canna’ count or read. Annie is special.

Deborah A. Bowman.

Acclaim for “Annie’s Story, Blessed With A Gift”

Annie picture Annie’s Story, Blessed With A Gift

I have just started a second beta reader on my upcoming book–Historical Fiction Based On Fact, Past-Life Hypnotic Regression. I wanted to share what my reader, who had asked me to beta read the book after seeing my last blog on “Annie”. This is what she had to say after reading just the first two small chapters where Annie’s parents die of the dreaded fever prevalent in early Colonial America:

OK, they died and passed to another dimension…got that.  Don’t leave me hanging; what’s next?!?

Obviously I am hooked.  And that is not easy because from all my years proofreading, grammatical errors, etc., become very distracting to me.  Your writing has none of those.  Plus it reads fast ( if you know what I mean).  I hate reading where I have to stop and focus on every single word.

Frankly, I am picky about what fiction I read and I find yours intriguing.  Your characters are beautifully  brought to life (which you promptly killed-off) without excess verbiage — kudos.
You made me cry.  Not because she died but understanding the utter despair he must have felt conscious enough to ken what was coming.

Between you and I, my family also has such “gifts” in our background, which by-the-way is heavily Scottish and Welsh.
Of course, I will be sending the rest of the book for her to read, Sections II-VI. I hope to have the book finished and published by July/August 2016. I have about two Sections and The Epilogue to complete. –Deborah A. Bowman, Author






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

For excerpts, reviews, comments,  and songs

About Annie’ s Story, Blessed With A Gift

And the upcoming release as my spirits lift

Review of “Tales From The Garden” by Sally Cronin … A Book to Cherish!

Tales From The Garden

5-star rating
My Rating

Why is it that when we conjure up the term “adult fairy tale” the erotic comes to mind rather than the esoteric, classical, or mystical? Do naught legends and myths for all age groups, sung by repetition and rhyme for centuries by traveling Bards, have a certain moral code and morale?

Being whimsical and child-like by nature, I dream that I’m talking, dancing and singing with the wee people, ethereal spirits, and creatures of the forests in the most dignified and respectful manner possible. I am so delighted by “Tales From The Garden” because author Sally Cronin depicts her characters with utmost courtesy and responsibility. These are truly the fairy tales of folklore from long ago, telling their ancient stories up to and including the modern era in which we live.

Such are the stone guardians of a Spanish garden where the statues have watched over and protected the fairy kingdom of Magia under the expanse of a regal magnolia tree for countless decades and centuries. Cronin richly tells how each masterpiece was created, some shaped and carved by craftsmen, artists and masons; some flesh-and-blood lost, dismayed or ill-treated humans, animals, and birds as well as long forgotten mythical creatures magically transformed by the fairies.

Sally Cronin’s creative little book packs a huge message on life, love, respect and honor.

I don’t know whether to refer to Cronin’s delightful, endearing tales as Literary, Poetic Prose, or the Songs and Lyrics of the wind, the sun, and the moon as each and every glorious sunrise and sunset allows the stones to come to life at night. They flourish under the last emperor and old master, Moyhill Royal Flush, or Sam as the stalwart wardens call him, whom they respect and adore even long after the master’s lifespan is over; it being so much less than their own. But Sam has his own royal stone plaque.

I’ll cite but few of Cronin’s Creatures so as not to spoil the stories of the eloquent, meaningful cast of characters. Just keep your eye on the dwarf band with the pearly girl vocalist and rabbit backup singer, who are prone to be devilish tricksters as surely as modern musicians. All in good fun, of course. Be ever watchful of the witch who feeds the ducks and swans, only to have them end up in her large pot to be deep fried. ‘Tis said she has a new broom. Before you depart the spacious garden pay homage to the Queen of the fairies and her new young prince husband. The Queen will tell you all about her previous wayward King. Her majesty finally giving the stone-frozen, banished King happiness and love in the modern world after eons of silent reflection, transforming him and his ever-watchful paramour to our lot with warmth, breath and death as humankind. And be sure not to miss the summer Fairy Ball!

The book concludes with the history of the garden and its family, bringing reality home.

All may not live happily ever after, but you as readers most assuredly shall. Whenever the mundane or sadness beckons at your door, reach for this volume and let your imagination soar to lofty heights. We all can be whimsical and child-like to the end of our days. I highly recommend you indulge in this Tome of Enchantment.




Thanks to Everyone for Their Comments on the Cover, ANNIE’S STORY: BLESSED WITH A GIFT! (I didn’t select either one of them … This is the final!)

Annie lives in her own world. She talks to the animals and faeries. Quoted from ANNIE'S STORY: BLESSED WITH A GIFT--
Annie lives in her own world. She talks to the animals and faeries. Quoted from ANNIE’S STORY: BLESSED WITH A GIFT–“Annie is an enigma.”

I am so thankful and overwhelmed by the helpful comments and suggestions I received on my blog, facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, and emails regarding the cover for my book, “Annie’s Story: Blessed With A Gift.” This has been a difficult task for me because in many ways, I am Annie. Therefore, I’m way too close to be objective.

This is a version of the very first cover and a dozen tries later I have come back to it because it shows what Annie sees and how her mind works.

From the FOREWORD:

“… Annie was mentally slow, stunted in growth, and lacking in social and emotional development… Annie couldn’t read or write, … but … was an incredible savant, reciting songs, rhymes, recipes, and medicinal incantations… She was a natural [telepathic and white light] healer, blessed with a special gift from the Spiritual Universe.”

Coming in early 2016, I will share precious Annie with all of you.

Deborah A. Bowman, author

Just Not Right Today…My Inspiration Does Not Shine…Or Does It?

My Inspiration Does Not Shine
My Inspiration Does Not Shine

I see the trinkets that surround me

But do I really see?

These are so precious to me

They inspire and capture my creativity

But not today

I have no words to say

But those that get in the way

My inspiration does not shine

In silence I seek the divine

And all will be well in time

My Annie doll will speak her mind

And tell me of her trip from Ireland

When she came alone to Ellis Island

The castle will sing its tune, the dancer spinning

And a new story will be beginning

To weave its way into my soul

The faerie pixie will rise and flow

Through ancient dreams and glowing scenes

Dancing on the sun’s rays, amidst the colors of the rainbow

The Kindle will light with fire: reds and yellows; golds and blues

I’ll slip on my glasses so I can see true

The beautiful forests and haunted hills

I’ll experience thrills and wills and chills

As a new world comes alive inside my brain

Some of you may think me insane

As the keyboard beckons and calls my name

Not all the words have gone up in flames

I just had to write them to know their game

Of hide and seek, catch me if you can, find me if you dare

The words will scatter unless you show them you care.



Sparkle and Shine!
Sparkle and Shine!

I Tend to Love the Melodramatic In My Writing and In My Creativity…I Think I Was Born in the Wrong Century!

Once upon a dark, dreary night, chaos reigned in the sky. I took up my quill as the thunder roared and the lightning blinded my eyes...
Once upon a dark, dreary night, chaos reigned in the sky. I took up my quill as the thunder roared and the lightning blinded my eyes…

I do not know exactly where I come from or why I am so sad and dramatic

There are times at night that I see a different world…by candlelight, draped in shadows

I lift the feather and dip it into the pitch black, thickened ink

I watch the fluid drip like blood from the glare in darkened windows

It is always storming, the candle flame flickering from cracks in the ancient mansion

The fire in the hearth has expired and the chill is almost unbearable

But I turn my thoughts inward in a closed fashion

To ponder on the melodramatic and scenes that are terrible

Murder whispers through the night and I continue to write

Each scratch upon the tanned skin of an animal

Reminding me of death, of ruin, of horrific sights

I think that I am safe within, yet I am so gullible

As I live my poem within my mind, my body racked with pain

I hear footsteps in the empty room and chuckle at my absurdity

It’s just the rain beating unmercifully against the leaden panes

I glance up, expecting nothing, but emptiness and levity

A figure looks down at me, standing tall and broad

How did “she” get in here, soaked with blood and shivering?

I did not hear the latch open the door; no one spoke aloud

The look on her face is horrific, and I begin quivering

I look down at myself. I’m totally reconstructed

From a modern woman of the 21st Century

To a man, dressed in finery, frightened–reluctantly

Wondering where I am and what kind of monster I must be!