Five Minute Friday- Imagine

With a topic like “Imagine”, one should automatically assume my post will be about John.  Instantly the word sets a melody off in my head, as I’m sure it does others.  John taught the entire world how to dream about a life a peace, and made us feel awesome for having such dreams.  Imagine; the word itself brings to mind flights of fancy, rainbows, wishes, and hope.

 If we took the time to imagine something new every day, I think the world would see tomorrow’s todays be a bit brighter.  But this can only be true if more people imagine peace and love and less people imagine greed and strife.  Only by putting more positive intentions into the universe than negative ones will we be able to Imagine the world John Lennon did. 



I’m Kassie, spelled with a “K”

When I was a kid, no one ever spelled my name correctly.  You see, for whatever reason, people had the hardest time not mixing up the initials.  I was born Kassandra Cron.  Even spell check tells me that’s not the way it wants to spell my name.  So, I started making it easier on everyone who ever needed to spell my name, and myself, by introducing myself as Kassie, spelled with a “K”.  Somehow, that wasn’t enough to get my name to roll off the tongue.  I was then called multiple variations the likes of Kasey, Kassy, and of course, Kathy.  Which was also annoying, as my mom’s name was Cathe.

Over the many years I’ve spent being a bookworm, I’ve come to know the lineage of my name, and it has begun to have another distinction to me, as one that has it’s own unique story.  I speak of The Delphic Oracle, Cassandra of Troy.  She predicted the Fall of Troy, but wasn’t heeded, and her prophecy fulfilled.  I’m currently digging through the web to find out as much about this woman as I can, she intrigues me, greatly.  If you have any information, please, share, I am an information junkie. 

I’ll close with a final anecdote about my name.  It seems that at one point, I had impressed that my name begins with a K enough, that my former husband, and my former neighbor/ supervisor decided to immortalize me in song.  On a particularly hilarious drunken evening,( hilarious for them, as I was pregnant, and not drinking) Bon Jovi happened to play on the cd changer, and they locked eyes, and began belting out, “She’s Kassie.  Spelled with a “K” to the tune of “Dead or Alive”.  Almost fifteen years later, I hear those guys singing, and they were even nice enough to write down the lyrics, I still  have those, as well.  All in all, I’d say I like my name, it’s definitely different, and I’m not exactly plain Jane.

So, have a groovy evening,

Kassie, spelled with a “K”


NEW RELEASE: Legendary Comic Book Artist Dame Darcy thrills with “Frightful Fairy Tales”

Book Hub, Inc.

Sinister storytelling has never been so delightful!


Legendary comic book artist Dame Darcy delves deep into the cauldron of romantic horror with five haunting fables, each certain to entice you with enchanting damsels, charming lads and cads, and other beguiling characters. Each skillfully crafted tale is adorned with Darcy’s elaborate trademark illustrations, drawn in Victorian fashion, making this collection seem authentically from another era.

Detailed with alluring beauty, elegant imagination, and wicked humor, ‘Frightful Fairy Tales’ unleashes ghastly mortals from the dark closet into your subconscious.


This book is wonderful. Love, romance, lust, violence, horror, betrayal, mysticism, seduction, revenge, angst, twisted, wicked and jaw dropping. All of which describes the lovely Dame Darcy’s illustration and writing style. If you are into all of the above with a Victorian undertone you will love this book…
Bravo! I can’t wait till she releases another one.


Dame Darcy is the coolest…

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My Affair With the Internet.

I’ve had a long standing relationship with the internet.  Way back in the ancient 1990’s, I discovered the World Wide Web, and I’ve been it’s willing acolyte since.  Through today’s technology I can research to my heart’s content, all without keeping unhealthy hours at the library, and throwing my back out with giant stacks of books to be read daily.  My high school classmates probably have their clearest memories of me behind a mammoth pile of reading material rushing to my locker to switch them out with new ones.  Thanks to smart phones, all of my precious information is now at my fingertips at all times.  I am forever committed to my love of the Net and all things communicative.

Paperback Writer

“Dear Sir or Madam, would you read my book?”  The Beatles tapped into my hunger to be a “real writer” at a very young age for me.  As I grew older, the word play all around me enticed my passion.  Today I’m sitting in my garret surrounded by haphazardly stacked books.  Hundreds of missives are waiting for me to become reacquainted with.  I know these volumes personally, for the most part, though the donations received for Give a Kid a Book leave me with unburied treasures to find.  Each name along the spine is either an old friend, a new friend, or one I haven’t met yet.  

     As usual, music drives my pursuits.  I’ve often felt like Lady Madonna, wondering how to make ends meet.  So, I’ve traveled down that Long and Winding Road through  blue collar job after blue collar job, to try to provide for my Clones.  Always, though, the words called to me, even when I was nearly numb from the endless hours of scrubbing toilets, or stacking boxes.  While on my literary hiatus, I indulged my addiction for words by insisting on working on the Weekly Reader line as often as possible, before it was removed from the presses completely at the print shop I spent day after day.  I felt like the Fool on the Hill, nobody seemed to hear me, for they thought I was just a fool.  But I saw the sun going down, and the eyes in MY head saw the world spinning round.  

The Beatles sing my songs, “Killing Me Softly”, as it were, and I am pretty lucky to have been given that outlet for my creativity when no others were allowed.  That was another amazing thing about the Fab Four and stories that I have learned to lean on.  No one can take them away from me.  I read them, I heard them, I committed them to memory.  Forever they are mine, no matter what else I lose along the way.  By immersing myself in the words, they are so much a part of me, only death could separate the two.

How wonderful is it to be human?  To be allowed the privilege of thought, words, and creativity?  Remember, that is what distinguishes us from all the other creatures of the Earth.  Only we have been given the gift of words.  I am thankful that I get to live A Day in the Life of the universe.  As I sit here, the wind blows the curtains with a heavy breath.  John sings to me, telling me about a film he saw today.  Books are Helter Skelter  all around my little island of technology which rests upon the Champion Underwriter Portable Typewriter I bought years ago on a literary whim.  All is groovy.


have a groovy day,


What did you think you’d be when you grew up?  Did it change over time?  Did you achieve that dream?  Are you still working on it?  These are simple questions we all face in life.  Here are my answers.  A famous Author.  No, I’ve always yearned to tell stories.  Yes, actually, I think I have.  Yes, I am still working on it, I’ve not published any great work yet, but I’m getting there. All of my life, I’ve been captivated by stories.  Words draw me, like a moth to the flame.  I wonder very often, if every writer sees random strangers and makes up entire scenarios in their heads about these people they will possibly never even interact with?  Am I the only one who has several conversations with people in their head while talking to that person?  My kids find it amusing when I turn and expect them to know exactly what I am talking about, because in my mind, we’d already discussed it.  They just smirk and say, “Mom, you never said that.  You probably just thought it.” It can be rather embarrassing at times, I can assure you. I like to think that I’m fairly mentally competent, though I’d hardly call me “normal” or even “sane”.  I crave information like a junkie needs a hit.  I’m scatterbrained and distracted to an extent that my kids also have a quip for that.  My oldest calls it “Shiny Rock Syndrome”.  The Clones also have a great time trying to outsmart me.   They know that I’m only distracted because I’m actually thinking or doing a half a dozen other things in that same moment.

Lately, I’ve noticed how many things in this life are connected, and I’m virtually exploding with ideas.  Novellas scratch out in my brain, faster than I can even write them down.  Others have suggested that I record myself, as the plots formulate.  Frustrating as hell.  Unless I have an audience, I can’t simply speak my thoughts.  I keep my laptop with me at all times, because only by typing can I actually get the words up there to a page somewhere.  I’m struck by inspiration, but it’s fleeting.  Only if I sacrifice myself upon the altar of the Muses; my greatest sacrifice being total devotion to the act of expression, am I able to think clearly again and attend my daily activities with a somewhat regular routine.

This all means my entire focus in life is shifting.  My greatest nemesis is my own guilty conscience.  As a Mama, my children are my only reason for being.  As a writer, the tale is all important.  Until recently, I’ve short-ended my innate talent, repressing myself at every turn.  So, I’ve decided to shake things up a bit.  No one, least of all me, really imagined I would ever actually DO that which makes me happiest.  Not seriously, anyway.  Over the past year, I’ve gone from being a housekeeper/factory worker to a book dealer/freelance author.  In my heart, I’m already a success.  I get to share my love of all things literary with the world, I get to read to my heart’s content, and get paid to invite  others step into my alternate reality.  Pretty groovy, isn’t it?

I am currently researching the incomparable Charles Dickens.  He has inspired so much of the literature I’ve read, as well as being a genius in the arena.  I’ve immersed myself in all things Dickensesque.  It seems that he has always been one of those great connections in my life.  As a young reader, I tore through the pages of Oliver Twist and David Copperfield.  I logically, at least in my mind, followed Dickens with Poe, Longfellow, the Bard of Avalon, Hugo, Chaucer, and so on.  Each of these, turned me on to others.  Like I said, for me, the alphabet was like a gateway drug.  Successively, my Ma grew tired of monitoring my bibliomania.  I always kept it harmless, never acting on anything negative that I read.  Therefore, she allowed me to delve into any subject my greedy mind desired.

I always come home to my personal favorites, however, and my bookcase is rather eclectic.  On it you will find everything from Classic Greek Mythology to serial killer true crime stories.  I generally stay away from what I consider smut books, but have a guilty pleasure section that includes Anne Rice in all of her incarnations, including erotica.  That woman can make the word “mud” sound sexy if she applies herself to the task, I am convinced.

Mr. Dickens changed the world, one story at a time, and I pray that someday, someone will feel the same way about me.  I don’t deny that I wish, like every other poet, novelist, etc., that my name will go down in infamy; but I’ll settle with knowing that I am using my talent to follow in Charles’ footsteps,  and trying to make life a little better for those who can’t help themselves, but keep trying anyway.

So, as I’ve said before, I’ll change the world, one book at a time, and I’m going to love every single second of this completely awesome opportunity to test my mettle. Hopefully, I’ll have what it takes, if not, as Daddy always said, “I’ll always have thought I should’ve.”

Until we meet again,