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"A laugh out loud page turner." "High stakes. High comedy. High romance."
Vessie VanCortland, an over-worked jingle writer gets trapped in her car in the worst blizzard to hit New York City when her Inner Child appears and challenges her to change her life. With her wise-cracking smaller self, an ancient yoga technique, and the long-distance support of the unforgettable Mrs. Smith -- her surrogate Jewish mother -- Vessie takes the leap, but with unexpected consequences.
New York 1980 Nooooooo! Why am I being punished? All I wanted to do was drive to Kennedy and catch a flight to St. Lucia or Eleuthra or any place that's warm and far away from Lou and every moronic jingle he's ever made me write. Okay, so he didn't make me, but I felt like a fly in a jar after the lid's been taken off. You just stay there because you think you have to. Vessie VanCortland was stuck in her four-seat Thunderbird classic beneath a five foot mound of snow. She couldn't see through the iced windows, couldn't open the doors. She was locked, blocked, filled with anxiety as snow kept pelting down imprisoning her in a living tomb. It was the worst blizzard to hit New York City and for a smart young woman, Vessie felt desperately dumb. She looked at the travel brochures on the bucket seat beside her. Magnificent white sandy beaches. Sun streaming through lush tropical palms. A crystal clear sea. The car radio belched static as a newscaster's voice kept breaking bad news: "...even rescue cars need to be rescued." "Rescue cars?" Vessie hit the radio with her freezing hands. She had hoped that by blasting it as loud as it would go, it might reach out and touch someone; but it didn't reach and it didn't touch, it just died. She caught a glimpse of herself in the rear view mirror. "Damn, I'm turning blue. I look lousy in blue!" Vessie couldn't look lousy in anything--goofy, maybe. The huge rainbow colored earmuffs and matching muffler wrapped around her neck and head stuffed down inside the tall stand-up collar of her faux fur coat detracted from her long shiny auburn hair and emerald green eyes. It was more a Hanna-Barbera look than Vogue. Frightened and freezing she asked herself: How the hell did I get into this mess? But she knew. She just couldn't take it anymore. It, being Lou Fields who was proving to be not only a toxic boss--he made bi-polar something to strive for. The recession was unforgiving. Lou was convinced that winning the equivalent of an Oscar for a television jingle would boost business and guarantee the survival of his jingle business, Fields and Friends. For weeks he had been pressuring Vessie to bring home the bacon at the upcoming Geo Awards, and his crazy-making was off the charts. After dealing with ten years of it, she finally had enough. She turned off her electric keyboard, jumped into her Thunderbird and headed for the airport. Then all hell broke loose. The sky spit bullets. Wind snarled. Trees snapped. A great gust of swirling white exposed the Chrysler building, Grand Central, the Guggenheim at 5th and 89th. Then white again--a ghostly dream-like white with a big fat hole in it--Vessie stuck in her impending doom. She tried to shove the world help out from behind her frozn face. She was always able to make her body do anything she wanted; but now the simple task of parting her lips begged the aid of a hacksaw. The absent composer closed her eyes. Paradise was almost hers. She could see it, touch it, feel it. Salt water--buoyant. Her long thin body, floating. Sun caressing, licking, soothing her. A chill raced up her spine. Vessie put her mittened hands to her face. It seemed not to be hers anymore, but a kabuki mask painted white with holes cut out through which her eyes registered panic. Is this it? Is this how I'm going to die? -- Vessie VanCortland, hack composer of tuna fish, hemorrhoid and cat food jingles freezes to death in her car? A little girl with green eyes and auburn hair dressed exactly like Vessie--rainbow earmuffs, matching muffler and mittens and faux fur coat--appeared in the bucket seat beside her, crying. "Don't cry," Vessie said. "Your tears'll freeze your eyelids shut." What am I saying? Who am I talking to? "Wait a minute!" she said. "Who are you? How the heck did you get in here?" "I'm your inner child." "My what?" "Your inner child." "Then what the hell are you doing out here?" "Showing you how miserable you feel." "Great, a cheerleader! Well, don't worry. Pretty soon I won't feel a thing." "That's what I'm afraid of. You've been out of touch with your feelings for years." "Oh my god, a Jungian." The child cried harder. "Okay, hold it right there," Vessie said. "If you're my inner child, why are you complaining? I walked out on a jingle session because of you!" Her eyes said, you did? "That's right. I was about to take you to an island. A gorgeous, sunny, lush green island far away from Crazy-maker-Lou." "An island?" "Yeah, hot sun, blisters on your tush, salt water on your flippers." "So?" "So" So, here I am freezing to death because you kept yelling, Vessie, get a life. All work and no play, Vessie. You hate your job, Vessie. Write songs you believe in and stop being a sell-out!" Her inner child wiped the window exposing their ice-covered cell. "Guess we're stuck, huh?" "We just look stuck. It's really me un-sticking myself!" "I'd hate to see you with a roll of packing tape." Diversion, diversion, Vessie thought. She cleared her throat and sang: "Take a Catflake to breakfast, and you'll have a thrill. Take a Catflake to breakfast, and I'm sure you will..." "Please," said her inner child, "if I puke now you're really in touble." Vessie closed her eyes. The air was biting cold and hurt less that way. She heard om-mani-padme-hum floating inside her head. Om-mani-padme-hum, her old meditation technique. The mantra yoga Paramahansa Bramananda, Founder of the Spiritual Enlightenment Ashram in Malibu California taught her eleven years ago. Six little syllables from the ancient language of Sanskrit that could help transcend her fears and warm her freezing body. Vessie grabbed onto them like a life raft. I've got to concentrate. I've got to make this work, because if somebody doesn't find me soon, this could be my last day as a human and my first as a popsicle. Chant, Vessie, chant girl, chant.
A laugh out loud, romantic romp about living authentically and creating the life you love.
TOP FOUR IN BOOKS
Metro News, Toronto
Vessie VanCourtland, a 30-year-old jingle writer trapped in her Thunderbird classic car in the middle of a New York blizzard, sees her life passing before her eyes. This is an inspirational tale of a woman whose spirituality and self-love motivate her to realize her dreams.
A LOVELY, FUNNY STORY
Vessie Flamingo Outshining the Moon is a lovely, funny story of a woman reconnecting with her magical inner child after having become tied up in the cynical world of business. It is also a story many of us can relate to on some level.
Senior Producer, Take 5
CIUT 89.5 FM
91 St. George Street, 3rd floor
Toronto, ON M5S 2E8
VESSIE IS A GEM!
"Vessie Flamingo Outshining the Moon," is a highly entertaining, compelling, spirit-driven page-turner."
--Dean Noblett, Life Coach, Reiki Master -- Heartlight Canada
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Reader Reviews for "Vessie Flamingo Outshining the Moon"
|Reviewed by L Hippler
I honestly could not put this book down for the last 50 pages.
I enjoyed the humor throughout and really loved the interaction between Vessie and her inner child.
Vessie’s search for authenticity, hampered by her own actions and the sabotage of other people is something that every one of us can identify with.
Teleportation, levitation and appearances by inner children - - and you make it all believable and fun at the same time. Not an easy thing to pull off but you do it.
An excellent and funny read.
|Reviewed by Brett Moore
I just finished reading "Vessie" and I'm truly impressed! The humor in it was so great. There are too many laughs to mention all of them here, but I will say that Lou running through the streets of NY to get to Vessie before she leaves for the island had me laughing hard. Another hilarious moment was when Vessie teleports right on top of Smoodgie. Of course, there are many funny moments. I love the story too. "Living authentically" is the ultimate goal for Vessie, but she finds herself doing things to keep her from achieving it(in addition to others contributing as well), which I found to be so real. It is certainly something I feel so much in my own life. What's holding me back, I wonder. The book ended so perfectly. I hope I'm not giving too much away in this review. Anyway, I'm sorry it took me so long. It actually didn't take me long to read it; it just took me awhile to get to it with my work load lately. It was an ideal book for me to read right now, too, considering I have been thinking of making some changes in my life. Superbly written, Jerelyn.
|Reviewed by D. Byron Patterson
|Alrighty, Super Woman!
I have ordered your "Tale of Self-Mastery and Love" from Amazon.com. I just wanted you to know I support you and wish you all the best. I'm really excited about Nancy (my IncrediGirl!) reading it too. :)
Byron, Prince of Biscuits