|Jo Michaels - Website|
As part of her blog party, I am giving away a signed paperback copy of Depression Cookies. Hop over to her Blog Party post to enter. While you are there, I hope you will enjoy my interview.
Jo: Why write a book like Depression Cookies? What was the driving force behind it?
Tia: We knew we had a story to tell. Since my family did move a lot, sometimes all we had was each other. I am the oldest of three girls, and I don’t know what I would do without the women in my life. But, women can also be their own worst enemy. Women are at the core of some of my best moments, and some of my worst. We hoped a book with two distinct, but interconnected, female perspectives would open up a dialogue between women about the choices we have and the ones we make.
For more fun, I wanted to share an excerpt from Depression Cookies, a coming of age story woven around the heart of family triumph. It is told from two distinct vantage points, middle-aged mother, Abby, and her teenage daughter, Krista.
In this excerpt, Krista is struggling with "mean girls" at her middle school. They have ambushed her at school and made sure nobody will talk to her, all because of a misunderstanding. She's lost. To a 13-year-old, this feels like the fight of her life.
Excerpt from Chapter 22:
It was the eye of the tiger;
it was the thrill of the fight.
Rising up to the challenge of our rivals
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And he’s watching us all with the eye . . . of the tiger.
I stood in the middle of a wrestling ring struggling to keep up with my opponent. Punches were flying. Our quick moving feet seemed like a dance rather than a fight for our lives. I ducked my head but not quickly enough. A punch landed. I stumbled but managed to stay on the mat. This was no longer a friendly match—this was personal. I charged my opponent headfirst. My head hit its target, but the jolt did more damage to me. Landing on my butt, I looked up in time to take a jab to the face, then one to the back. I felt disoriented. How many people was I fighting? The crowd had faces, and the stadium suddenly became a small room at my high school. More punches landed. No longer knowing who I was fighting, I knew the importance of the event. Fear began to choke me. My only option was clear. I had to run. Had to get away.
“I must run, must . . .”
“Honey, it’s okay. Wake up. It’s morning. Time to get ready for school,” Mom said, leaning over my bed. She wiped my forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re all sweaty, are you feeling okay?”
“Mom, I’m sick. I don’t think I can go to school,” I said. I didn’t have the strength, especially not after that nightmare. I needed to think, to come up with a plan. Maybe it wasn’t too late to apologize, but I was afraid it would only make me seem weaker. The last thing I needed was Cindy or Kerry or both going in for the kill.
Thanks for visiting today! Please stop by the blog party and enter to win a signed copy of Depression Cookies, and feel free to share the link with friends and family.