Tuesday, December 29, 2015

From: Me -- To: You

                        So, I've started a new novel -- or really, a novel that I've had going on for a while. Back about a year ago, I wrote my fiance a non-fiction/fiction version of our relationship. I think I really finally put down everything that I thought and felt and things that I really only knew. I've been wanting to write something that soft and fluffy and not really intense the way "Seven Seeds of Summer" is -- and the way "Allerleirauh" is.

                      If you're not familiar, I would eagerly suggest to you, reader, to check them both out. Keep in mind that "Seven Seeds" is my first novel -- full of mistakes and cliche characters. I feel that "Allerleirauh" is at least something that I'm very proud of -- a lifetime's dream come true. I've always wanted to write a re-telling of the story, and I'm glad that I finally did.

Now it's Roberto and I's turn. I've got two new Characters : Charlotte (Charlie) and Liam. Liam first started as Corey - which is actually one of my favorite names, thanks to "Boy Meets World," -- Corey Matthews -- but decided to maybe make Corey a Liam thanks to a TV show that I haven't seen -- just heard about -- "The Royals." I'm in love with the actor who played Peter Pevensie and is actually on that show too -- as Liam.

It's actually going to be called "From: Me -- To: You" (I think for now) -- with music as a big factor in chapters and character development.

Music is a big thing in both Rob and I's life. When we were just friends, I'd always give him mixes of songs -- and songs are really important. I'm sure there are tons of couples who share mixes with each other to show and express themselves -- and this story is going to be exactly that. The rough copy that I have the story is roughly 22,000 words -- so it's a good start, but I'm really going to have to re-write some scenes and characters -- I was really good at capturing the people in our lives, and I'm sure if some people read about themselves -- they might get extremely offended (or just mad).

Either way -- I haven't stopped, and I plan on always writing for as long as I can. I'm a writer -- it's in my blood. Words just came and go in my mind -- just like characters. They wash up out of no-where and demand to be shared with others.

For now -- I'll keep you posted on more about "Allerleirauh" and keep your eyes out for more info about "From: Me -- To: You" !

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Happy Holidays!

I hope everyone had a great Holiday Season! I was glad to be home and see my family again. In the meantime, I was so glad to see my book was finally posted as a paper-back! So please, if you haven't already . . . check it out! 

Family is so important to me - and it was so good to be back in their arms and smile when we could. 

I also received great and wonderful gifts. Did you? I'd love to hear about them! 

                  The countdown begins until the end of the year - only the matter of a few days!

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Printed Paper Back Available!

You can now buy at Create Space: https://www.createspace.com/5955591

This novel can also be found on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B019O4UAN4

If you're interested in reading and reviewing, please contact me at my email cgadoury16@yahoo.com
or find me at any of my Author Locations! Facebook - Wix - Tumblr!

Allerleirauh Excerpt



                        "If you ever decide to remarry, you must marry someone who is as beautiful as I and has my golden hair.” The words seemed to echo all around the darkened, red room as my dying Mother whispered them. Candles were lit all across the room, creating a gloomy and death-like atmosphere around us as they flickered against the stone walls; the only solace of light was the flames, curling out from the fireplace.  My Mother’s hair, like spools of golden thread, lay against her forehead, clinging to her dying, pale skin as she lifted her hand, reaching out to my Father for his answer. My Mother, the Queen, was dying in her bed with my weeping Father on bended knee, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles and the corner of her lips.
            “My wife…” His words were soft and full of a clouded grief I knew I didn’t understand. My Father and Mother were hardly ever affectionate behind closed doors. I often saw them together in the throne room, together in my Father’s den, but never close; never touching. His loss of her was a mystery to me.
            “Promise me,” she hissed at him, her breathing was growing faint as she shifted and grunted, trying to look at him more closely. Perhaps it was her only solace that her husband, my Father, would never truly love anyone after her. Perhaps she hoped a new wife would only be a constant reminder of his first.
            I stood in the background, watching the scene between my Mother and Father, clinging to the thick red bed drapes, my own golden curls tied back with a black ribbon. I had been pulled from my tutoring lesson with Mousier Rayner, learning French from the brittle books of my Father’s library and had dressed for the occasion of my Mother’s death in a simple black dress. I hadn’t known how to feel as the black silk brushed against my skin. I felt almost as if we were being paraded into her room to watch her die like an animal. Was this how life truly was?
             We were born, lived the life God granted us, and then, just as quickly, our flame dulls until it becomes a wisp of smoke in a darkened room and we’re gone. As the servants and house-hold hands guided me into the room, I stood frozen in the back. It was often said by the Courtiers I looked much like my Mother; I had the same golden hair and the same blue eyes. I wondered now how true it really was. Did I truly?
            I felt fear as her last breath slipped between her lips, her hand slowly falling from my Father’s shoulder. Everyone in the Kingdom knew the King did not have a male heir, and in turn, would need one to carry on the Royal Line. Who would be next? I could see eyes staring at me; I was my Mother’s reflection: my Mother’s legacy. I felt a cold shiver run up my spine as I heard my Father reply, “I promise.”





            I was told my Mother looked to my Father with apologetic eyes on the day of my birth. The wet nurse had lifted the swaddling bundle of the girl I was into his arms, as my Mother promised, “A son, I will give you a son.” My Father had kissed her forehead in a gesture of forgiveness, silencing her in the soft desperate moment which should have been a joyful one.
              The earth was grey and wet on the day we buried my Mother. We often came to her grave as a Court, to remember and honor her in my Father’s name. Two years had since then passed for my Father and the Kingdom. The winter’s snow on the ground had begun to melt under the warm golden ball in the sky. We stood around the large stone my Father had constructed in her honor, keeping warm with our furs and shawls. My eyes drifted from each member of the Court, until finally they rested on my Father. My Father lifted his gaze to me, and slowly he extended his hand out to me. It was a gesture that I felt I had dreamed of my entire life. I had always wanted my Father’s approval. I wanted my Father to look at me with the love and adoration that I saw him give my Mother, her friends, their children; everyone but myself. But now, I was the only thing my Father had left. We stood there in the rain, repeating prayers until it seemed the Priest was appeased, and slowly the court began to head back towards the palace, leaving my Mother alone in the ground. I glanced at my Father, saw his torn face and decided to stay beside him.
“I can’t believe it’s already been two years, Papa.” I whispered softly and squeezed his hand. He gave a small, quiet nod and sighed. “Yes, I know.”
            “I’ve tried my best to take care of you, the way Mother would have wanted.” I continued, biting my lip nervously.
            “You don’t have to worry about me, Aurelia, my dear. You’ve cared for me better than any daughter would for her Father.” I felt him pat my hand gently and slowly walked ahead of me. In the short distance, I saw my Father’s advisor waiting for him: Lord Haven. Lord Haven had been a good childhood friend of my Fathers, and as my Father rose to power, he brought Lord Haven along with him. It was even rumored Lord Haven had helped my Father to meet my Mother. Other stories made my Mother out to be a witch, who had manipulated my Father with her magic spells. She had come from a foreign land; a Kingdom across the sea, rich with jewels and wealth. It must have made sense to marry such a woman who could give a King such power. She had been a lady of the court when my Father had first married her; an exotic princess, who knew how to wear seduction in the corner of her lips.
At my Father’s first royal ball, held to find himself a wife at the request of Lord Haven, my Mother had come to him in a gown reflective of pure gold. It was even said she had maids who knew how to turn normal thread into pure gold. She had interlaced her fingers with my Father’s on the dance floor, fed him exotic fruit and laughed at all of his jokes. She knew exactly how to entertain and enchant him, and from that time forth, he knew she had to be his, in name, body and soul. Some women of the court started rumors about my Mother pouring white powders in my Father’s drinks, keeping his attentions censored on her, despite her cruel and cold heart. Others claimed my Mother knew exactly how to wear her dresses improperly and tempted my Father with the hint of her cleavage and the rising hems of her dresses as she danced closer and closer to him. I recalled a time when my Mother had snagged me away from gossiping women of the court, gripping my arm tightly with her white fingers.
             “They have always been envious of me, and would say anything to win the King’s favor, Aurelia.” I was never sure why she had felt the need to explain anything to me, or if what they claimed indeed the truth were lies. God punished my Father for her witch-craft by giving me to her. I was the shame she had to wear every day. I was the one failure in her nearly perfect life, and now perhaps she would be mine. Ever since her death, many of the courtiers remarked on how I was ‘very much like my Mother.’ I never wanted to be like her: I wanted to be myself.
             As I looked at my Mother’s grave, I felt a twist in my stomach. I sensed she would continue to haunt me in some way, despite the time already gone by. I glanced at my Father, upon hearing my name as they whispered. He had been speaking to Lord Haven in the distance when I saw the way he looked at me; my golden hair catching in the glow of the sun. A sinking feeling of dread filled me. I was relieved when one of my servants, Myriah, came to tend to me and take me back to the warm castle.
             “I wonder how much longer the King will take in finding himself a new wife.” Myriah murmured next to me as we walked back together. Myriah had been one of my oldest and closest friends. Despite tending to me since I was a child, Myriah was much more than just a servant in the household to me. She was a Mother, sister and friend, all in one.
             “I’m not sure.” I said softly in reply, glancing over my shoulder for a moment, catching my Father’s gaze again. He lifted his hand in a gesture of farewell, and I quickly turned my head away.
             “I think I might lie down until supper.” I said with a soft sigh. “It’s been an exhausting afternoon.” Myriah nodded and gave me an understanding smile. “Yes, Princess.”
            The sunlight was bright as it filled my room, stirring me from a strange, dreamless sleep. I could hear a few of the servants outside of my room, jabbering on about the time and the duties they needed to still attend to. It seemed they were always busy now, tending to my Father, his demands and his visitors. Since my Mother’s passing, my Father had tried to stay true to the promise he had made to her on her deathbed. If he would remarry, he would find someone with her long golden hair. Over the past two years, the Kingdom had gone from an eternal darkness, in which the land seemed to be forever frozen in the loss of the Great and Beautiful Queen, to the rebirth of spring and summer; a newness to the air.
            Within the past few months, my Father had decided it was now time to search for a new wife.  His courtiers and more importantly, Lord Haven, had much to say about the lack of a male heir, and how much in need the Kingdom was for a Prince to carry on my Father’s name and line. I had overheard many meetings of them ranting on about needing a Prince; the Kingdom would only survive with a male heir. I saw my poor Father slide his fingers through his hair, almost as if he wanted to tug every strand away, until he was left with nothing more on his head. What a disappointment I was to him and to my Mother. If only I had been a son, my Father would not have faced such pressures and perhaps then, I would have been more useful. My Father eagerly sent for eligible young ladies to come stay at the castle; to woo them with dresses and jewels, fine foods and wines and hand-written letters. I didn’t know how I felt about such things or how I was supposed to feel.  

I wanted my Father to be happy, but I didn’t want his promise to my Mother to consume his life; though it seemed it already had. The idea either made my stomach twist with sickness, or twist with a certain envy I didn’t understand. I longed for affection, whether it romantic or not. I had never had a suitor in all my nineteen years. The possibility of marriage had never been brought to me, though; I knew my role as the King’s Daughter would bring a marriage agreement with another Kingdom, giving my Father more lands or wealth in return. Sadly, I watched as my Father hosted parties, held balls, generously gave his attention to those who sought his affections off of the dance floor. The twist of longing started to become far too familiar for me. I watched an array of my Father’s parties, always glittering in the finest jewels and with many candles, filling the room with a beautiful bright arrangement of sparkles and light. My Father always seemed to choose the most beautiful and the most charming to dance with although it seemed as time passed the group of women became smaller and smaller as each party became a little less grand. It was becoming obvious my Father was losing hope in finding the impossible wife.
            I usually spent my time during my Father’s parities in the shadows of the ballroom, sipping on punch or eating a few pieces of fruit provided on the long silver trays scattered among tables for the many guests. Myriah and I would watch my Father dance and twirl with the latest lady he was enraptured with; but this party had been different. There had been no women for my Father to court and the guests were all watching him, waiting to see who he would select to dance with. “Daughter,” He had said with a kind grin as he had extended his hand out to me. I stared at his hand for the longest moment until I felt Lord Haven touch my shoulder and nudge me towards my Father.
            “The King wishes to dance with you, Princess.” I could only imagine how pink my cheeks were as I raised my hand to my Father’s extended one. It seemed as soon as my Father drew me into the small space of the dance floor, the flittering of fans and the soft whispers of gossip came to life; all eyes were on him and me. I could see something had changed in my Father. His eyes were glassed over; his blue eyes seemed unfamiliar to me, and I felt strangely uncomfortable. I knew there had been a change in the room; it seemed almost as if I couldn’t breathe, and my corset had nothing to do with my lack of air. It was my Father and the way he was watching me. Perhaps a courtier had brought it upon themselves to compliment my golden hair or my teasing smile as I had been speaking with one of the guests, but none-the-less, there was something about me that caught the attention of not only the courtiers, but my Father. I felt as my Father pulled me closer to him; his hand on the small of my back, his thumb brushing against the small part of my skin exposed below my neck. As he spun me around the room, he began press against me more closely, his breath on my neck. I didn’t understand what he was doing, or what he wanted, but I felt I would know all too soon. I pushed myself away from him and took a step back. I heard him say my name and beckon me back with his awaiting hand, but I took another step back and shook my head. Even this was a line I was not willing to cross. I hoped my Father was only behaving this way because of having too much to drink.
            The knock on my door startled me from my thoughts, bringing me back from the endless night at the ball, to the safety of my room. When I did not answer, the knocking came again. I slowly rose to the door, only pausing for a moment of hesitation, unsure of whom it could be.
            “Yes?” I asked quietly against the panels. A deep voice replied, “Your Highness, the King has brought you a gift in hopes to please you.” As I pressed my hand against the wooden boards and iron, I opened the door and saw one of my Father’s messengers staring back at me with a small box in his hand. I looked at him curiously and then back down at the box.
            “Do you know what it is?” It was all I could do to keep my hands from taking the gift. Why had my Father sent me something? I couldn’t recall the last time I had received a gift from him. Even so, on the celebration of my birthday, my Father and Mother would only send me a bouquet of flowers or host a feast in honor of God granting them a child. The past year my birthday had seemed to go unnoticed and forgotten in this grief of Mother’s death.
            “I do not, Princess.” He seemed to almost thrust it towards me, forcing me to take it from him. As I took the box, I noticed just how small and delicate it seemed. I gave the messenger a small nod of gratitude and closed the door. I leaned against the panels, staring at the small box, as my heart raced from the sheer curiosity of what could be inside. Finally, I shook my head and opened it, revealing a small delicate golden chain with an opal stone encrusted with small diamonds around it. I had never received something so beautiful or valuable from anyone before. I quickly closed the box, almost afraid the elements of the room would tarnish it. Perhaps my Father did love me, and wasn’t ashamed of me after all.
            I couldn’t stop myself from grinning wildly as I opened the box again and gently took the chain from the box, fitting it over my wrist. The opal shimmered in the sunlight, beaming through my window. Perhaps this could be a new start for my Father and I. Perhaps now things could be different for us. I smiled even more brightly when Myriah entered my chambers; a whistle was soft upon her lips.
            “What a pleasant sight to see this morning, Princess.” Myriah said with a smile as she shuffled towards my armoire. I heard her open the doors and let a deep sigh out.
“What do you wish to wear today, Aurelia?” I grinned as I walked up to her, exposing my wrist to her.
“Something that will match my Father’s gift to me.” Myriah’s eyes opened wide at the sight of the chain and stone and then flickered back to me.
            “When did the King give this to you?” she asked. I noticed how her hands flittered to her waist, as if she were waiting for a problem to arise. I looked down at the chain and then back up at Myriah.
            “He had a messenger send it to me this morning.”
            “Ah, I see.” she murmured and turned her attention back to grabbing the things I’d need to dress for the day. 
            “Perhaps you should leave it here, so it doesn’t get misplaced. You would never forgive yourself if such a thing happened.”
            “I’ll be careful, Myriah. I’d like to wear it. Perhaps it will please the King as well to see me wearing it.”
            “Perhaps.” Myriah answered curtly as she pulled a soft pink gown from the folds of my armoire and laid it out for my approval. I found Myriah’s comment a bit disconcerting but I did not press the issue. Perhaps I was still too much of a child in her eyes to receive such a grown-up gift. I ignored her comment as I started to dress myself in the undergarments she had laid out for me; the opal glittering against my wrist.  
            “Where is my Father?” I asked as I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and straightened my skirt around my waist. I felt Myriah’s fingers behind me, nimbly tying the strings around my waist to keep it into place. The corset was my least favorite part of dressing every morning. Myriah would put the contraption around me and begin the endless tug of pulling my ribs together.
            “I’m not sure, Princess.” she replied curtly after a few tugs. I turned to look at her, staring into her shocked eyes. I never treated Myriah this way before, but I was not going to let her stop me from trying to have a bond with my Father.
            “If you’re not going to be helpful, Myriah, I’ll just call for another maid to tend to me.” Myriah opened her mouth to say something and then sighed, giving me a small, curt nod.
            “Yes, Your Highness.” I turned back around, letting her finish the task of tying my corset around me, holding onto one of the bed posts for support.
            “I don’t think you understand your Father.” she replied after a long, silent moment.
            “And you do?” How dare she talk to me in such a way!
            “Aurelia, I’m trying to help you. I’ve raised you since you were a babe. I’ve watched you grow in front of me. I’ve seen you ache for attention from the both your parents. I’ve seen them turn their backs to you. Why do you forgive your Father so easily?”
            “I don’t wish to speak about that. Why can’t you just be happy for me? This is everything I wanted. I’ve only ever wanted to be seen! Why should I not take advantage of this chance?”
            “Your Father isn’t seeing you the way you think he is.” she said sternly, tying the last part of my corset and turning me around roughly. 
“What do you know, Myriah? You know nothing about Fathers or families.” I knew my words had stung her. I knew Myriah had come from a poor family. So poor, Myriah had been taken from her family as a child and sold to the palace as a servant in exchange to pay off her Father’s debts. Myriah had grown up in the palace, learning how to milk cows, tend gardens, and do kitchen work. When she came of age, she moved into the Royal Castle and began to tend to my Mother as a lady’s maid. Once my Mother gave birth to me, Myriah became my nurse and maid. If I ever had a Mother in my life, it was Myriah. She had been through countless evenings of tears and not understanding why my parents didn’t love me. There had been countless conversations about love and families and what I wanted and wished for the future. So now, why couldn’t she just be happy for me? Why couldn’t she see this was a sign?  
            “I think I’m needed in the kitchens, Princess.” She gave me a small curtsy and walked towards the door.            
            “I’m sorry, Myriah, I didn’t mean...”

            “You know what you meant to say,” She responded and left the room. I stood there in my undergarments, staring at the wooden boards. What a twist of events that had ensued in only a few short minutes. I glanced down at the chain around my wrist and wondered if I should listen to Myriah and tuck it away for safe keeping. But then, just as quickly, the image of my Father filled my mind, and the desire to please him filled me. I grabbed a shawl from my armoire and wrapped it around myself, as I walked towards my door. I opened it to find another maid waiting for my request and I welcomed her into the room. She finished Myriah’s job quickly and quietly, pulling the gown over my frame and tended to my hair until I was presentable. I watched as the maid left to continue her chores elsewhere; leaving me with the soft silence of the bustling servants in the hallway: I was alone just as I had been before. 

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Published Novel - Allerleirauh

I Published my Novel, "Allerleirauh." 

You're able to purchase a copy of the book here on Amazon

There will be a paper-back version soon to follow! Stay Tuned! 

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Christmastime - Personal Post

This Christmas has been really rough. This is actually the first Christmas without my Father. My Dad died on August 7th of this year (2015) - a beautiful and sunny Friday Morning - around 6am. His death certificate says he died at the Williamsport Hospital, but truth be told - he died at work. He died alone, without his family. He had a heartattack . . . Sometimes I wonder if he knew what was happening. I wonder if he sank to the floor knowing that no one would find him in time. Was he sad? I struggle now spiritually - for I blame God for stealing my Dad away from me. He might have taken my Dad to a beautiful, new world - but he took him away from me during a time when his family needed him.

Is that how death really is? You're here one minute and then you're not? It just doesn't seem fair. But then again, my life is hardly fair. the things that I could tell... how this girl who dreamed of love and happiness .. kinda fell short in many ways. My life is full of one heartache, followed by the other. But it would seem that happens with everyone. (I'm not different in the grand scheme of things.)

My Dad's name is Paul P. Gadoury. He was 57 years old when he died. He had these wonderful, big hugs, and a laugh that could fill a room - sometimes when I'm quiet and alone I can hear it. I hear his voice in my dreams sometimes, and it makes me sad to know I'll never hear it again in this life. It's hard to accept that you have to wait your WHOLE life until you can see the person again.

My sadness is great and vast - like a big, rolling sea - always experiencing a storm. There will never be a peaceful time for me again. What is peace when your heart twists each morning, each moment you think of a name, think of a memory - a time, or reality.

For those readers of mine who have experienced loss - please know you're not alone. Sometimes, that alone brings me comfort. To know I am not alone. I know how isolating death and grief can make you feel.

There are people who care.

Monday, December 14, 2015

Allerleirauh Trailer

If you're not familiar with the old fairy tale, "Allerleirauh," I highly suggest and recommend that you go take a look - and a read before you go any further here. My newest story, which started as a VHS my father gave me (with a selection of cartoon fairy tales on it) as a child, - a fascination which has followed me through my life - is now a new novel.

Above is a little trailer I made for fun - but should give some insight into what lies in store. I don't want to give too much away until everything is signed and sealed, but - I hope you all enjoy!

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Blog Talk Radio

Interview with Books Direct

Full Interview Can Be Found Here

Interview With the Author
Hi Chantal! Thanks for joining me today to discuss your new book,Seven Seeds of Summer.
For what age group do you recommend your book?
Honestly, I’d have to say that I always imagined my book for readers like me; ranging from thirteen to thirty. As a twenty five year old, I have a guilty pleasure of enjoying the Young Adult genre. Seven Seeds of Summer is a book for any age!
What sparked the idea for this book?
This originally started as a homework assignment in a Novel Writing class I was taking at Susquehanna University as a Junior in college. It was my first real “novel writing” class; I had taken fiction short story classes, poetry, non-fiction, but this class was a head-on towards my dream of who I wanted to be as a writer: a novel writer. As a class we had to design a story board of a story idea, from start to finish, with pictures of our characters, settings and other details. After a failed attempt of my first “novel” idea, I sat down one night, reading and studying a few of my favorite books: Beauty by Robin McKinleyand East by Edith Pattou. I knew I wanted to write a book just like theirs – a retelling of a fairy tale, with twists and characters that felt like branches of your soul. So, the first few pages started with a point of view from Hades, and slowly Summer and her story evolved.
Which comes first? The character's story or the idea for the novel?
For me – they come hand in hand. Summer and Hades told me their story. While I started with a “spark,” … an “idea,” it was Summer and Hades who guided the story. I knew that Summer had a love for Hades that was much more than just a “fan-girl” related. Summer started to reveal a past, or a history that started to pull together the more I wrote. Once Hades entered the story, everything just came together after that. So, in the case of Seven Seeds of Summer, the idea of the novel came, but the characters’ stories brought it to life.
What was the hardest part to write in this book?
I would have to say the ending. I still feel as though it’s not at all what it should have been. I had this huge idea in my mind, and no real understanding of how I would end it. By the time that I reached a real ending to the novel, it had been over three years since I had first started writing it – and the characters were almost like friends I had lost contact with. I’m afraid that some readers might actually feel that – a disconnect with the story, or the characters at the end. I wanted Hades and Summer to have a happy ending, but I also wanted to keep the ending open for a sequel, in case I ever wanted to do so.
How do you hope this book affects its readers?
I hope it just brings joy to readers. A world where anyone can escape, and go on an adventure with some really fantastic characters.
How long did it take you to write this book?
Drum Roll for this: four Years. Roughly. Seven Seeds of Summer has been through a long journey.
What is your writing routine?
My professors often spoke of having writing routines. Getting up early in the morning and writing for a few hours and then going to work and, obviously, for them, they could write as much as they wanted when they weren’t teaching classes. I often heard classmates, when in college, starting writing routines. Back when I first started to write in college, I often had very late nights. So I would write then – it was my way of escaping from the day, relaxing and letting all the thoughts I had go, and form into something positive.
How did you get your book published?
This is kind of a strange story – I finished writing my novel, and actually wrote a status about it on my personal Facebook. A cousin of mine actually wrote to me and told me that he knew someone who was starting a publishing company, and was looking for novels to publish. I sent him my novel, the first couple of chapters and a summary of Seven Seeds. It was about a month later that he sent me a message saying, “Sit down! You’re a published author!” The next day I was on the phone with the Fantastic Barbara from Waldorf Press, and everything now is history.
What advice do you have for someone who would like to become a published writer?
The advice that I’d have to give is – it’s a hard journey. Writing a novel is the hardest part; getting all the words down, editing something until it drives you crazy to get it just right. But for those who love writing, for those who find nothing but joy or liberation in it – it’s worth it. Don’t ever stop believing that you can write a novel – because you can do it. I always like to quote Walt Disney: “If you can dream it, you can do it.” Writing should be fun, and as long as it is, you’re doing something right.
What do you like to do when you're not writing?
Honestly, the truth is that I’m constantly writing every day. I really enjoy writing with a friend of mine in my free time; we’ll either make writing posts on Tumblr, or just write back and forth on Skype. When I’m not writing (which isn’t very often) I’m often spending time with my boyfriend, Robert(o). We’ll go see movies or go to the beach (since Delaware is famous for its famous beaches!). I enjoy staying at home and catching up on a show on Netflix, or traveling back to Muncy, Pennsylvania, to visit my childhood home and parents. I love to paint, knit, crochet, listen to music, etc.
What does your family think of your writing?
When I was fourteen, I probably would have answered that my parents hated me wasting so much paper in the house. I’d go through reams and reams of paper; writing constantly in the late hours of the night and printing pages and pages of drafts and redrafts. My Mom, who shared the love of books with me, is a big supporter of me. She often calls me her “John Boy”, from The Waltons. My Dad is just waiting for me to get rich and famous and buy him his retirement already. And my sister – I know she’s very proud of me.
That's great. Please tell us a bit about your childhood.
I was blessed as a child to have the childhood my parents strived to give me. My childhood was completely enveloped by Disney, and Disney movies. If I wasn’t reading story books, or watching Faerie Tale Theatre, I was playing with my Barbies, creating these fantastical love stories. I was able to use my imagination freely and often played outside with neighborhood children. I was in a few activities as a child; ballet, soccer, basketball, but my favorite was singing. It’s fitting that my name, in French, means “to sing”.
Did you like reading when you were a child?
Very much so! I can still remember my favorite book as a child! Once Upon a Golden Apple. My mother would make special trips with me every Saturday to the library, where I would search for this book and the Golden Treasury of Disney Stories, and the four VHS videos of Faerie Tale Theatre I was allowed to check out. I was completely fascinated by the covers of my mother’s books; wild pirates and beautiful princesses. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn to read about those lovely adventures.
When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
I never really had this big “Ah-Ha” moment. I can remember buying Twilightwhen it first came out in 2005, and it was a really unknown book. I was completely in love with the writing style (or really, the way Stephenie Meyerused first person in writing a novel). I wanted to do exactly that, and I started to! In High School, I wrote with a group of girls, using famous anime characters and our own original characters. When it was time to start looking for a college to attend, I began to toss around the idea of actually going to school for the one thing I felt I was good at.
Did your childhood experiences influence your writing?
I would have to say yes - in a way that I haven’t really realized just yet. I loved to create stories with my dolls, and I loved to read books, so I suppose it was only natural for me to want to be a part of that world with the written word. I grew up with books, discovering worlds and meeting new friends in each new page; when I began to write and create new people, it only felt natural to do so.
Which writers have influenced you the most?
My writing days really began with R. L. Stine’s Fear Street Sagas. I poured over each book, loving each new story, each new character and each new plot twist. To this day, I still have One Last Kiss which was, by far, my favorite of the series. I started to discover re-tellings of fairy tales, such as Beauty andRose Daughter by Robin McKinleyEast by Edith Pattou became a quick favorite. When Twilight by Stephenie Meyer came out, I loved the style of her writing - at least, in how she portrayed the voice of Bella Swan.
Do you hear from your readers much? What kinds of things do they say?
Not very often. I have a few friends who have read my book and have left me either messages on social media or reviews on Amazon, but I can’t say that I’ve heard much from any “new” readers. So far I’ve been given good reviews - but I’m ready to see what the world really thinks of Seven Seeds of Summer.
I hope this book tour brings you a bit of feedback, Chantal. What can we look forward to from you in the future?
Hopefully more books. Hopefully either the fairy tale that I’d like to re-tell, or possibly something completely fresh and new. I’ve thought a lot about writing a book about certain things that have happened in my life, and I do have the start of something non-fiction from a few years ago in college. I guess the future holds surprises and what I might write about next will be among those surprises.
Thank you for taking the time to stop by today, Chantal. Best of luck with your future projects.
No! Thank you! It was great having the chance to be here!

                                            The Novel Video of "Seven Seeds of Summer."


It seems like it's been forever since I've been here, and indeed- readers (if there are any), it has.

It was actually a year and four months ago that I last wrote on this blog. It seems much has changed in the past months. I've experienced great loss, in the sudden death of my father Paul Gadoury.
I've been working on a new novel - for now called "Allerleirauh." (Just click the name and it'll take you to the Wiki page of the Fairy Tale to learn more about it.)

I just wanted to let you all know that I'm still here - I'm still around. And I hope to get better about blogging. Who knows, it might even be good for me!

For now, I wish all of you a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays....

From my Family, to yours.