There is no 31 days Mental Health Awareness month for me. I live with Manic Depression 365 days a year. There are no fancy, frou frou vacations, hefty bonus’, no benefits that come at the end of the year. Your family members do not get a staycation while in your company, they get who they get. Which part of me will take the lead, manic, mean, irritable,
Immersed in the land of Georgia Pine., a glimpse. The mysterious, ethereal image was the first I found. It helps shape the divine character I see in my imagination, so vividly. The cover, a sneak peek. The Vast Landscape sequel, is a steady work in progress. Harrison’s raw, honest beauty carries on, through Georgia Pine. ©Laura Makabresku photography Thank you dear Laura, for sharing, your art, haunting imagery and intimate, emotive, fairytale world. I am honored.
My mama always said, a hand-written note is the politest, most personal form of communication. I tend to agree. By post, the modern-day luxury. In transit.
For all you NOOKers’, The Vast Landscape is available at Barnes and Noble.com. Life. Family. Forever friends. Journey. Escape. Home. Full Circle. The raw, honest, sweet and sour, never give up on love story. http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-vast-landscape-jacqueline-cioffa/1118427721?ean=2940148152170
today is a three-part kind of day I know. I used to see Phillip Seymour Hoffman in the Village, head-down, unassuming posture. The year was 1995, I was studying acting and a mega fan. My brother saw him on the subway, asked for his autograph for me. He graciously signed a pack of matches, he was kind. Addiction, Mental Illness are merely misfirings, faulty wiring in the brain, that cannot be
Cover Candy Darling.
They say choosing the ‘right cover’ for your book is critical. Who are they, anyway? I know what I like when I see it. Finding the image for The Vast Landscape cover was a stroke of luck, and believe me I’m not that lucky. I went back and forth between two images, ultimately sticking with my gut. Your first is always your first, or so they say, again who the
They ask too much, expect more from me. To sit in a room with gut wrenching, broken, beaten down souls. There is too much pain, upon the blood, stained walls. I cannot, I will not. I refuse to spill my intimate, tragic, sad story. This fight is personal, entirely my own. Between God and me, she is not the enemy. I wonder, I do. I can’t help but be curious, where