My own private war to write ‘The Stolen Children of War’ by Jina Bacarr
September 11, 2025 by Jina Bacarr in category circus, Jina’s Book Chat, Writing tagged as children, circus, France, Paris, writing, WW2
War is hell.
Writing can also exact a toll on you that’s hard to come back from. I don’t propose to compare the valiant efforts of our soldiers, amazing servicemen and women, to me sitting safe behind a computer and writing about war. Not at all. I never served in combat, but I did counsel men who did (this was before women were allowed to fight in combat) and I heard the stories late at night sitting around a big, ole aluminum coffee pot in the US Army Service Club or playing pool with the men. We had a lot of soldiers passing through on their way ‘back home’ who felt more comfortable talking to me about their experiences than their families.
I was so young… and not a trained counselor or psychologist. But I did have one thing: I’m a good listener. Something taught to me by the nuns, especially the wise and round-faced Sister Mary Celestine at St Peter’s. I learned a lot from these Army and Air Force soldiers about brotherhood and loyalty and being ‘blooded’ and that unbreakable bond these men had with their units. I envied that. I wondered how we women would fare in such tense situations under fire.
Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to write about women in war.
My last several books are about Paris during the Occupation by the Nazis and the brave women who fought in the Resistance even as they fell in love and raised children. But writing about such intense times does take a toll on you. Especially when you’re fighting your own pain from an accident and struggling to make a deadline. (I thank God for my fabulous editor Isobel who was with me during this time and never gave up on me.)
Then I remember the sacrifice made by the women and men fighting the Nazis. My God, would I have had the courage to do as they did? I like to think I could and every day I strive to do what I can to help others… whether it’s at the market and someone needs help, or a nervous, new receptionist at my doctor’s office starting her first job.
The world is a scary place.
I also give thanks every day for what I have. Shelter, food, my treasured books I’ve collected since I was a little girl. And the Internet. Which allows me to share my heartfelt stories with you.
So, here we are… the hot days are slowly giving way to cooler temperatures. And with the advent of Fall, I’m so excited to announce my next Paris WW2 book, The Stolen Children of War.
I’m so thrilled with this fabulous cover.
It’s so circus-y!
That’s Lia, my heroine. A trapeze artist and trick rider since she was a kid.
The two children she saves will steal your heart as they did mine!
There’s also a stolen baby, handsome heroes, and an adorable baby elephant.
And a mystery, too… a madman threatening circus queens….
It’s a glorious ride of heart, passion, and razzle dazzle under the big top!
Can’t wait to introduce you to the world of circus during the Occupation of Paris 1943 when the children needed the joy of circus more than ever!
Out 10th November https://mybook.to/ChildrenOfWar
0 0 Read moreCuriosity by Neetu
March 27, 2024 by Neetu Malik in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as children, curiosity, growing, Mothers, Neetu
Curiosity
how many steps
to the edge of the world
she wants to know
small feet press on
each foot forward
taking her closer to
destination unknown
undeterred, unwavering
asking the same question
though she knows
I have no answer
though I am
mother
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
Deep Roots by Neetu
March 26, 2022 by Neetu Malik in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as children, Family, love, Neetu
Deep Roots
I will weave you garlands of dazzling wisteria twine the flowers with stems of love growing from roots seeded strong and deep where the ground stays warm and evergreen. © Neetu Malik Poem written for my children, 2019.
Some of Neetu’s Books
Monty Hall & Me by Rebecca Forster @Rebecca_Forster
October 15, 2017 by Rebecca Forster in category The Write Life by Rebecca Forster, Writing tagged as children, Family, game shows, inspiration, life choices, Life Lessons, Monty Hall, television, writing inspiration
“This is a story about Monty Hall, the velvet-voiced, handsome host of Let’s Make a Deal. He passed away recently and it broke my heart because Monty Hall and I had a history.
I was a little depressed after I had my first baby and longing to get back to ‘the real world’ when I saw an ad: be a contestant on Let’s Make a Deal. Contestants were supposed to dress up as something funny but there was nothing funny about a postpartum mommy body so I went for the sympathy angle. I cut up a crib mobile made of fabric hearts, sewed the hearts onto a white hat and made a sign that said: HAVE A HEART, LET’S MAKE A DEAL. The neighbor watched the baby and I drove to Hollywood where two hundred people were lined up against a chain-linked fence outside the studio. They were dressed like alligators, killer clowns and French maids. I joined the fray just as a young producer trolled the line, pointing at people.
“You. You. You. That’s it for today. Come back another time.”
OMG! He didn’t pick me. There I was literally wearing my heart – okay, not on my sleeve – but all over me. I threw myself at him. I grabbed his sleeve. I begged.
“I NEEEEDDDDDD TO GET IN THAT STUDIO! I JUST HAD A BABY.”
He let me in.
Once inside, the producers advised us to make eye contact with Monty Hall. Check. No matter where he went my eyes bored into him. He itched, he freaked, he couldn’t figure out where the laser points of focus were coming from and he kept looking for the source. Then he saw me the crazy, desperate lady in the white hat with dancing hearts on it. I think he chose me just to make me stop glaring at him. I got all the way to the big deal and lost, but that was fine. My consolation prize was a two-week trip to the Bahamas and a thousand dollars. I went home happy. Monty Hall probably went home and had nightmares for weeks.
Fast-forward 32 years. Monty Hall is sitting behind my family and me in the theater. He is a little stooped, silver-haired, but still handsome. When my family goes to stretch their legs, I introduce myself and tell him the story that has become a legend in our family. He is gracious. He chats with me until the house lights dim. Before we take our seats, he asks:
“How old is the baby now?” As if on cue, my thirty-two-year-old son walked down the aisle. They shook hands. The house lights went down. We all watched the end of the play. I gave my son’s hand a squeeze. Life was good.
As if on cue, my thirty-year-old son walks down the aisle. They shake hands. The house lights go down. We watch the end of the play. I give my son’s hand a squeeze. Monty Hall walks out of the theater ahead of us and I never see him again.
The moral of the story is this: choose a door, any door but choose. What is behind that door will be exciting or surprising, charming or even challenging, but you will be better for turning the knob.
Monty Hall was behind two of my life’s doors. He made me feel lucky once and honored the second time. TY Monte Hall. I know that the door that opened for you not so long ago will be the biggest deal of all and you deserve that heavenly prize.
P.S. That is not me in the picture.
0 0 Read moreFeatured Books
PICK AND CHEWS
Carrie Kennersly tries to help her veterinarian boyfriend when he’s under suspicion of murder...Is he a keeper, or should she let him go off-leash for good?
More info →
