An Intangible Authenticity

The blog tour is back!  Just when you all were getting worried that I was tired of talking about my book.

Psh.  Miles to go, people.  In truth, I just needed a little breather. 

But I'm very happy that Abhisek Mohanty stepped forward and offered me a guest slot on his blog, The Intangible but Significant Part of Me.  I don't know Abhi that well, but he was so friendly and enthusiastic in his email that I immediately felt welcomed and at ease.  I like people who embrace life and radiate a positive spirit.  My impression is that Abhi does both.

Since Abhi's blog motto is "Silence Kills, Speak up," I thought his place was the perfect venue to write a piece about voice and authenticity.  And I gotta say--I really enjoyed writing this one.  So I hope you'll check it out. 

Big thanks to my host for stepping up!  And for reaching out.  I'm glad to have made a new friend. 

If you'd also like to speak, step, or reach out, in order to interview me, review the book, or offer me a guest post slot, please feel free to email me at Sarah.Hina@gmail.com.  I really appreciate every gesture of support I've received so far.  Thanks, guys.

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Other stops on my Meet Me In Paris Blog Tour: Travis Erwin • Aniket's Plum Blossom Flash Fiction contest • 25 Questions for Author Sarah Hina  • Author Spotlight 7SS with Aerin-Bender Stone • Jaye Wells • Poem at The Walking Man's • Poem Blossoms at Joaquin Carvel's

Plum Blossoms excerpt read aloud by me. 

Buy Plum Blossoms in Paris • Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Flipkart • Chapters • Borders • Your Local Independent Bookstore • Powell's Books • Books-A-Million

Blowing My Whistle

(Photo Credit: Kirti Manian)

First, I posted a new story, "Tuesday," over at Aniket's Flash Fiction site.  This photo prompt only has two more days to go, folks, before the train pulls out of the station.  So have a look and be inspired!  Or wait until the next train.  Either way, I've been thrilled to see so many people register as authors over there.  Aniket's building a wonderful community. 

My blog tour has been a little derailed, but I'm eager to get back on track. (Sorry--the metaphor made me do it.)   If anyone would still like to interview me, or offer me his/her blog for a guest post, I'll be your best friend.  Or you could choose to review Plum Blossoms in Paris.  In which case, I'll be your BFF.

My email address is Sarah.Hina@gmail.com.  Thanks, guys.  

Speaking of reviews....here comes the tooting my horn blowing my own whistle part.  Forgive me, but you're only a debut author once, right?  So here's a brief rundown of what some obviously brilliant people are saying about the book:

“Rich in fascinating details about the art and culture of Paris, Hina’s debut novel is a terrific literary love letter to the City of Light . . . The writing itself is imbued with a stylish sense of wit.”

~ John Charles, Booklist Reviews


"Readers will be 'pulled' into this book almost immediately.  The author has done a first-rate job with her descriptive passages . . . After this one, folks, you'll want to run--not walk--to the first available ticket agent and 'disappear' into the sumptuous Parisian world."

~ Amy,  Night Owl Romance


"I loved this book.  It's very witty.  Very smart, yet carefree and adventurous as well." (Rating: 5 out of 5 apples)

~ Debbie Lester, Debbie's Book Bag

In truth, it's nice to have people say nice things.  But more than anything?

It's a relief.

The White Sheet

(Venus by Henri Matisse)

He touches her through a white sheet.

“Your shoulder.”

“Yes.”

The sheet hangs between them.

“And wrist.”

“Yes.”

There is the illusion of warmth when her flesh touches the sheet and the sheet touches him.

“Your ear.”

“My ear.”

The sheet is a metaphor.

“Your neck.”

“My neck.”

The sheet is real.

“Your pulse.”

“So fast.”

She cannot see him, either, of course. But she understands those fingers. How they search, then retreat. How they play upon her laughter. How they see her more clearly than eyes ever could.

What they skirt.

“Your knee.”

“My knee.”

“Your . . . ”

“Thigh.”

She lists toward him. Begins to sink to her knees. He pulls his hand away.

But soon falls to a floor.

His breath is hot on her face. The molecules of his breath, passing through microscopic pores, are hot on her face. She presses her cheek against the division.

He does the same.

“How long?”

She can feel the muscles work the words.

“Until?”

“This thing comes down.”

She turns her face. A few degrees.

“I don’t think it can.”

He turns his face.

“Your—”

“My—”

What passes for lips might be a kiss. For a moment, she believes it to be.

Until she pulls away and sees her lipstick. The red impression. Of an unwritten story.

They rise to their feet.

“Your shoulder.”

“My shoulder.”

She touches him through a white sheet.

“And wrist.”

The sheet hangs between them.

“Yes.”

Birth Days

When he was young, he thought it was bound to happen.

When he was older, he felt that it never would happen.

The space in between is what they call growth, or maturing. Or coming to terms with the curve of reality.

But all that really means is you're closer to dying.


Believing is a brittle bone.  Exercise it daily.  Suck hard from the marrow.  Bend it to breaking.   

We Interrupt This Blog Tour . . .

. . . for something important.  Here's an announcement from author Erica Orloff:

In this little corner of the blogworld, most of us are book lovers. Book lovers and writers, people who say, "I've been writing stories since I could hold a pen," or "I was the kid holding the flashlight under the covers and reading past bedtime." In this little corner of the blogworld, we've also watched out for our own.

Merry Monteleone (Mom and More) and her family were in the midst of raging flood waters in Westchester that happened when heavy rains hit Chicago. The contents of the downstairs of her house were lost (it's been gutted), and though it's just "stuff" (lives were lost in the flooding), most of us can imagine how it would feel to watch photo albums and meaningful memories wrapped up in the "stuff" of our families . . . be carried off.

While big "stuff" can be replaced with insurance, Merry lost all her books, and a group of us decided to replace them--with Amazon gift cards, with books, with signed copies of books, with ARCs. We want to see the blogosphere flood her mailbox with good wishes and replace her library. If you love books and your TBR pile is as tall as you are, you know what they mean to her.

What can you do? Send books! Send Amazon cards! Reach out to your favorite authors and ask them to send her a signed copy! For her address or more information, contact: erica@ericaorloff.com

She has three children middle school and younger. Their books were in their bedrooms and most survived, but it would be great to get some books just for them, too!

Do something nice today. It will make you feel good.

Namaste!