Parca is the Roman Goddess of Childbirth and Destiny and after you get to know me, you will see why I believe she has, without doubt, made me her Poster Child. I deal with the odd serious issue but for the most part, my posts are just some cheeky fun, reviews of favorite shows, and true stories that will make you laugh out loud (or run screaming...I don't know you well enough to predict your behavior). You'll find satire with the odd parody tossed in....and most definitely a generous helping of hyperbole, with a dollop of facetiousness.

I am Canadian so expect a bit of politeness too. Sorry.

2) MY eBook Trailers are on YOUTUBE
3) My website:denisesevierfries.com
4) My Photo-Art Youtube Trailer is here too.

5) My old monthly column: The Lighter Side of Self Publishing
6) Outlander Series Facebook forum: the popular book/tv series group I am admin on , is The BEST and BIGGEST with well over 100,000+ members! Come join us! *click on bold red words (***NOTE: I am on sabbatical from said group as major life changes and a book trying to escape my head have pulled me out of FB in general...)

Thursday, January 13, 2011


2011 Canada Reads 'Stranger Than Fiction'Contest': real life childhood memories. 250 word maximun.
My entry...

The Chester and Spike Show 

Maybe it was a test of love.

But that would be ridiculous because he knew I adored him. He was my big brother and I was like that little terrier dog Chester in the Bugs Bunny cartoons, always bouncing around his idol Spike, the bulldog in the bowler hat. Complete hero worship.

Maybe it was a test of trust.

But that would be unrealistic because he knew that he was my Father Confessor. If my mother knew half the things I told my brother and asked advice about, I would be writing this from my room somewhere in a foreign convent.

I think it was a test of courage.

Bravery is a man’s most cherished virtue so I believe my brother wanted to make me fearless, or at least prove I was, and I couldn’t disappoint him. I don’t know when it all began, but by age 8 or 9 I was regularly having knives thrown at my feet.

I would stand on the lawn and from a respectable distance, he’d whip hunting knives on the ground, always near my toes but never hitting them. We were a private Barnum and Bailey circus act without the paying audience...or the insurance. My brother would inevitably chuckle with pride and marvel at my pluckiness. To be honest, my apparent nerve wasn’t anything but a childish sense of immortality.

I wonder if I can use this as blackmail? At 85 years old, our mother is still a force to be reckoned with!