BOOK TOUR: THE COPPER SCROLL by NICHOLAS TEEGUARDEN -- March 2-April 30

 

A lost scroll. A deadly secret. A race across the 

Middle East—where every clue could be fatal…

The Copper Scroll follows historian Joshua “Masa” Bennett as he journeys into the heart of the Middle East in an attempt to unlock the secrets hidden within the legendary Copper Scroll. Just as he begins making progress, disturbing warnings and shadowy sightings reveal that other powerful forces are also closing in: Templars, ISIS operatives, and government intelligence groups, each hiding their own motives for uncovering what the scroll may reveal.

Drawn deeper into a world of danger, deception, and spiritual tension, Masa must navigate hostile territory, shifting alliances, and a truth far more explosive than he ever imagined. As past and present violently intersect, he realizes the stakes extend far beyond archaeology, the secrets of the Copper Scroll could alter geopolitical power and shake the foundations of faith itself.

A blend of international suspense, ancient mystery, and truths long buried beneath history, The Copper Scroll delivers a gripping thriller for fans of Joel Rosenberg, Dan Brown, and archaeological adventure stories rooted in real-world intrigue.

*****

• Genre: Archaeological Thriller/Suspense/Action Adventure
• Sub-genre: International Mystery & Crime
• Pages: 230
• Paperback ISBN: ‎ 978-1509264681 
• Kindle ISBN: 979-8999106025
• Publisher: Independent
• Formats: Paperback, Kindle, Audiobook & Kindle Unlimited

⤷Read sample here.

⤷The Copper Scroll is available at Amazon.

*****

╰┈➤Here’s What Readers Have To Say!

“The Copper Scroll: Masa Chronicles, authored by Nicholas Teeguarden, is extraordinary piece of literature that has made a significant impact on me. The last time I felt this level of excitement about a book was while reading the Bible for the first time, a bold comparison, but one that underscores the author’s exceptional God given talent!” – Louise Jane, CEO The Christlit Book Award

“The Copper Scroll is more of a quest for truth than a treasure hunt. I recommend this book to lovers of historical books with a bit of danger, and it put me in the mood to find out about Qumran myself.” – Mary Clarke for Readers Favorite

I’d recommend The Copper Scroll to anyone who enjoys historical mysteries wrapped in modern storytelling. If you like a blend of Indiana Jones energy with a more thoughtful, personal core, this book will hit the right notes. It would appeal to readers curious about archaeology, faith, or just a good chase story where the stakes feel both grand and intimate. It left me thoughtful, a little breathless, and eager to see where Masa’s journey goes next. -Literary Titan

*****

╰┈➤Read if you love…

Ancient Secrets

Modern Thrills

Intriguing Historical Details

Secrets That Connect the Past With the Present

High-Stakes Quest

Keeps You Guessing

Excerpt: 

Joshua “Masa” Bennett hummed the Villines Trio’s familiar refrain, “I’m going all the way, I made up my mind…” as he drove toward the University of Arkansas. The song, a staple from his Lincoln church, bookended his commute, its quiet grace a lifeline since his Army days tromping biblical lands. No atheists in foxholes, they say, and Masa carried that faith into civilian life, fueling his master’s in archaeology. Today felt routine, just another class, but a spark flickered beneath it, a path to mysteries buried for centuries, secrets that could shake faith’s foundations. The lecture hall buzzed with late-afternoon chaos. High ceilings arched overhead, intricate moldings catching golden light through tall, narrow windows. Dust motes danced in the beams, stirred by restless students shifting in tiered rows of scarred desks with etched initials, coffee rings, and doodles of bored minds. Chalk dust bit the air, mingling with the musty scent of old books and the hum of flickering fluorescents. At the front, Professor Thaddeus Luke commanded the room, his wiry frame dwarfed by a blackboard scrawled with frantic chalk lines and gray hair flaring like a storm cloud as his voice boomed with passion. 

Joshua sat near the back, his lean frame hunched over a desk that creaked under his weight. His leather backpack, a frayed relic from his grandfather’s desert-wandering days, slumped against his leg like a loyal dog. Dark hair fell into his eyes as he scribbled furiously in a notebook already thick with ink: sketches of jagged cave mouths, snatches of Hebrew script, arrows darting between wild theories. Around him, classmates slumped in their seats, some doodling aimlessly, others sneaking glances at their phones beneath the desks. A girl two rows ahead twisted a strand of blonde hair around her finger, whispering to her neighbor with a smirk. Joshua barely noticed. His world was the blackboard, the professor’s words, the tantalizing riddle unfolding before him. 

Professor Luke’s chalk scratched against the board as he recited from the Copper Scroll, his tone reverent yet edged with excitement. “Item four: ‘In the cave of the pillar that is in the valley of Achor, which is near the house of the washer, dig three cubits: there are twenty-two talents of silver.’” He paused, turning to face the room, his eyes glinting behind wire-rimmed glasses. “Discovered in cave three at Qumran in 1952, this scroll stands apart from the Dead Sea manuscripts. Sixty-four locations, each a cryptic promise of treasure, not scripture, not prophecy, but a map. A cipher waiting to be cracked.” 

– Excerpted from The Copper Scroll, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

*****

 

REVIEW

WATCH OUT INDIANA JONES! THE HUNT FOR A HIDDEN TREASURE IS ON!

Move over Indiana Jones, Joshua Bennett is in town! Who’s Joshua Bennett? Why the shiny new adventurer—and does he have a story to tell!   

Obsessed with ancient riddles, university student Joshua Bennett is straining to find the location of a treasure said to  be composed of a massive amount of silver and gold. The Copper Scroll is the ancient document that gives detailed instructions about where to find it. The document discovered in 1952 in an archaeological complex, it was also where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered. The young student is completely taken with the legend, and works tirelessly—all to determine if it’s true! Soon a childhood memory intrudes and forces an analysis. An idea springs to him that never did before, and it’s with that ammunition in his back pocket that he presents his new theory to his professor and Noa,  a fellow student who has ‘future wife’ written all over her. His theory?  That the language and symbology is a code, and that they need to decipher the code before finding the untapped riches. Joshua’s professor is blown away—enough to arrange funding. And with the last hurdle jumped, it’s now time for Bennett and Noa to team up and begin the quest of a lifetime.

Thus begins author Nicholas Teeguarden’s smart new thriller the COPPER SCROLL. Action-packed and mega-paced, it was a white-knuckle ride all the way. My attention did not waver. Instead I was kept busy guessing what came next. The author does a superb job at keeping the storyline moving in the right direction. A laundry list of bad guys helps seal the deal and up the danger rating. Running the gamut from the Knights Templar, to religious authorities, to Isis, there are also mercenaries who would love to deposit an eight-figure amount in their checking account. The competition  puts Bennett and other assorted good guys in the position of stopping the treasure from ending up in an enemy’s hand. Yes, it’s a non-stop race to the finish line, and it all leads to an ending that is a complete surprise.

The ending was the best part for me and solidified what the book is all about. It was so unexpected and centered on why this treasure is so important. A peace fell over me when I read the solution … a peace that got to me and rid my mind of all except calm.

Because of all of the above, I recommend the COPPER SCROLL by Nicholas Teeguarden and am giving him four stars. It’s always grand to find a new author, and he will be added to my favorite author Iist. Enjoy!

 

About the Author

Nicholas Teeguarden is the award-winning author of Masa Chronicles: The Copper Scroll, a biblical-archaeological thriller blending international suspense, ancient mystery, and faith-driven storytelling. His debut novel is a ChristLit Book of the Year Finalist, a Titan Gold Medal Winner, and has earned praise from readers for its gripping pace and moral depth. Nicholas hosts Teeguarden’s Writing Room, a weekly series chronicling his creative process and the ongoing development of the Masa Chronicles. He resides in Oklahoma and is currently working on the next book.

Visit Nick’s website at www.nickteeguarden.com. 

Connect with him at the following social networks:

X: https://twitter.com/nickteeguarden 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61579248636306 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nickteeguarden

BookBub: The Copper Scroll: Masa Chronicles (The Masa Chronicles Book 1) by Nicholas Teeguarden – BookBub

Goodreads: Masa Chronicles: The Copper Scroll by Nicholas Teeguarden | Goodreads

YouTube – https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCF_TUwTK0lQI0eu6_6QEyYQ/

 

Sponsored By:

GUEST POST: THE WELCOME SIGN by Barbara Jean Weber

  

After finding a beautiful mermaid welcome sign, a young girl encounters a hidden and wondrous magical realm filled with magical characters, unlikely new friends and embarks on a dangerous quest to save the world from evil and restore the balance between the real world and the magical realm...

When 10-year-old Molly Parnell’s grandmother mysteriously disappears she and her mother travel to Cape Cod to take ownership of the house they inherited and find out answers about the sudden disappearance. But what they discover could be more dangerous and life changing than they ever imaged. Molly and her mother find a beautiful mermaid welcome sign in the attic and place it on the front door. Unusual things start to happen and they are flooded with visitors who claim they knew the grandmother.  The true powers behind the mysterious sign are revealed as Molly learns her grandmother was part of a secret organization working to keep balance between the magical realm and the real world. The magical realms placed an invisible veil of secrecy over the world to hide their true identities from the human world but allowing them to live among them  in secret. An angry rebel group of magical beings, tired of living in hiding is tearing down and destroying the magical cloaking fabric between the two worlds. If they are not stopped the magical realm will no longer be safe from the world.  As Molly and her mom embark on a dangerous and magical adventure throughout the magical realms to help stop  the rebels, she learns of her own magical powers and her strong family heritage connected to the welcome sign. Along the way, she teams up with new magical friends helping to keep the realm of magic safe from the eyes of the world and discovers that her grandmother was right all along. The world she thought she knew no longer exists, but an amazing world of magic woven into their world has always been hiding  in plain sight.

• Genre: YA Fantasy
• Sub-genre: Teen & Young Adult Magical Realism Fiction
• Language: English
• Pages: 218
• Paperback ISBN: 979-8350987287

Read sample here.

The Welcome Sign is available at Amazon.

Excerpt: 

PROLOGUE

CRYSTAL PERKINS SLIPPED INTO HER OFFICE AND LOOKED carefully down the hallway. It was shortly after 8:00 p.m., and the office was dark and deserted. The only staff remaining was the cleaning crew. She threw one last look around the hallway and nervously shut the door quickly behind her. She glanced out the window, closed the blinds, and turned on the small desk lamp.

Crystal slumped down in her chair and unfolded the newspaper on her desk. She ran her hand anxiously through her short, curly black hair. She couldn’t believe all of this was happening so quickly. Things were totally out of control, and she didn’t know how they were going to fix them. Sighing deeply, she glanced at the article in bold print and reached for the phone. She continued to stare at the front page of the newspaper as she frantically dialed the numbers on the phone. In bold print on the first page of the newspaper were these words: “More Unusual Sightings of Strange Creatures: An Elaborate Hoax or Fact?”

“Warren, it’s Crystal. Have you seen the newspaper today? There have been more sightings!” Her voice was shaky and worried. “It’s getting too overwhelming!” She ran a hand across her forehead.

“Crystal! Calm down. I have my people looking into this right now on my end,” a deep voice replied. “Have you questioned the witnesses yet? Are their stories credible? Are you—” he asked with a concerned tone but stopped suddenly.

“Yes, of course I have investigated all of the local reports and followed up on all the new leads regarding the sightings! Besides, Warren, that is my job. Isn’t that why you put me in the position of investigative reporter in the first place? Plus, Warren, like you. I know the real story. She paused with a deep sigh. “But Warren, there are too many! I can’t keep up. Warren, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Crystal, do you hear that humming sound in the handset? I’m not sure this is a secure line! Quick, call me on the other line!” There was a click and the line instantly went dead. Crystal dug deep in her purse and pulled out a small pearl-colored compact. The circular device shimmered as she turned it in her hands. She quickly scanned the room to make sure she was alone. Flipping open the compact, Crystal dropped in five small glowing bead-like objects from a long, clear vial she had also removed from her purse. She breathed over them, and instantly they broke apart into smaller pieces. She pushed a button on the side of the compact, and the glowing objects began to melt and formed a glowing, watery substance. Crystal dipped her finger in, swirling it slowly in a clockwise direction. Slowly the glowing substance rose out of the compact in a funnel shape and expanded out to form a lighted, liquid screen about ten inches in length. Through a shimmery haze Warren’s face appeared in the watery screen. He spoke in a low voice.

“Is it safe to talk here?” he asked quietly. Crystal nodded. “Yeah, it’s late. There shouldn’t be anyone else here. Everyone has gone home. I think the only people that are here now are the cleaning crew.”

“We must be absolutely sure! There is too much at stake here. I think your office phone may be bugged. We can’t speak on the regular line anymore, understand?” Warren warned. “As my number one investigative reporter, YOU are in charge of making the witness’s stories sound ridiculous, and it’s your job to discredit the reports inthe papers. Under no circumstances can we let the real story get out. EVER! It’s important that we keep the truth hidden. I’ve got others strategically placed in these roles around the world doing the very same jobs. Don’t make me think I picked the wrong person for this job, Crystal!”

Crystal nodded. “You did pick the right person for the job. You know Warren, it’s getting harder to cover this up.” Crystal ran a hand slowly across her forehead and through her hair. “Wait, Warren,” she stammered. Hearing a noise in the hall, Crystal stood up and approached the door. “Warren, hold on. I heard something.” She listened quietly, cracked open the door, and peered into the darkened hallway. The light from her office made dark shadows dance along the walls as she opened the door. Silently and unseen, a tall, slender figure slid the toe of his shoe into the dark shadows, pulled his body tighter against the wall, and held his breath. Crystal glanced around, and when she was convinced no one was there, she closed the door quietly. “I’m losing my mind, Warren. I’m sure I just heard footsteps in the hallway.”

“Calm down! Don’t be so jumpy, Crystal. You’ve got to hold it together! It was probably just the cleaners. Now is not the time to lose it. You’ve got to keep your head clear,” Warren stated authoritatively.

“Warren, there’s something else. I think I’m being followed. I swear I keep seeing the same car—”

Warren cut her off with, “Don’t panic. I’ll get someone over there for your protection and to keep an eye on you. They should be there in the morning. Just stay focused and on task. We can’t let this get out of control, understand? We won’t let anything happen to you!”

“Our paper wants to run a similar article as what the witnesses are saying,” she whispered. “And Warren, I’m looking at a press release that they want sent out as soon as possible. The witnesses sound very credible this time . . . I’m having a hard time covering this up. Warren, what do we do? There are too many sightings. More and more are coming in every week, and I’m running out of creative ways to cover them up! We need to get this stopped RIGHT NOW! I need some serious help from your end!” Crystal stammered nervously.

“I know! I know,” Warren nodded. “We’re doing all we can over here. We’re trying to find out who’s responsible so we can stop them. You just keep doing the best you can. We’ll get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Whatever you do . . . Keep the secret hidden. It’s imperative that we continue to keep this under control. We’ve been able to keep this hidden for a long time, and I’m not about to let the secret loose now. We must keep covering this up! And we need to do it quickly! We’ll talk in a few days. Warren out!”

The liquid screen started swirling slowly, gradually picking up speed and ultimately dissolving back into a sparkling funnel shape and descending into the compact. All that was left in the compact were several glowing bead-like objects. Crystal held the compact out and blew at the objects. The bead-like objects instantly disintegrated into a fine powder and were swept away without a trace. Crystal snapped the compact shut, shoving it back in her purse. This wasn’t going to be easy. Warren had given her the tough job of keeping their identify safe. Although there had been sporadic incidents here and there, their secret had been kept safe for nearly three centuries.

Why was it getting harder now while she was the investigative reporter? Things were skyrocketing out of control at a rate faster than she could handle.

Crystal had known Warren Tracer ever since she was a little girl. He was a dear family friend. They had all been true believers, and when Crystal was old enough to know the secret, she was brought into the circle of trust. As she grew older, she had seen more of Warren and learned about his unbelievable secret. Warren Tracer hadn’t always been Warren Tracer. His original name was Whalen Marks, and although he was not a magical being, he possessed great magical powers.

In his younger years, he and her father had been with the Special Forces for the military. During a particularly secretive mission, a trap had been set, and the mission had gone terribly wrong. Everyone had been reported dead. However, the real events of the mission had never been revealed.

All Crystal knew was that Warren, her father, and several of the men had made an amazing discovery on that day. The mission had indeed gone horribly wrong, but several of the Special Forces men had been rescued. Crystal suspected that Warren and his men had made contact with beings of the magical realm. Warren rarely spoke of the events of that day, but she knew better than anyone that Warren was a true believer. Something remarkable had happened to him and his men, but no one knew exactly what that was. Just that it was remarkable and life changing.

Warren had eventually changed his identity, becoming Warren Tracer, and begun working undercover for the magical realm. When her father died several years later, Warren had stepped in as a replacement. He had been family from the beginning, so to accept him as a father figure wasn’t difficult.

Eventually, Crystal had been approached to work for Warren in helping keep their secret safe. There was nothing more in the world that Crystal wanted than to help out her new friends. She’d jumped at the chance to work undercover at the newspaper and keep Warren up to speed on all the local sightings. It was a dream come true. Warren and the others didn’t disappoint her, and she loved her job. She had been working with the newspaper for over eleven years now, but of late, she was finding it harder and harder to hide the truth.

Crystal hoped Warren would find those that were responsible for the tears in the fabric and stop them. They would need a lot of help if they were going to keep the secret safe this time. As she sighed heavily and slumped back in her chair, she caught a quick glimpse of movement to her side. Startled, Crystal looked up suddenly. There had been more noises that she was sure weren’t made by the cleaning crew. In a flash Crystal stood up, knocking her chair to the floor. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, two tall, shadowy figures flung open the door, bolted from her office, and were joined by a third in the hallway. They had heard everything. In the wrong hands, the information that she’d conveyed to Warren could prove very dangerous. As she grabbed for the compact in a frantic panic, the three figures dashed from the building at an astonishingly fast speed and vanished without a trace silently into the night.

– Excerpted from The Welcome Sign by Barbara Jean Weber, BookBaby, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 

About the Author

Barbara Jean Weber lives in Skagit County with her husband and two daughters, where she works as a speech and language therapist. Her novel, The Welcome Sign, was inspired when she was gifted a mermaid welcome sign. The more she studied the sign, the more her story evolved. She is currently an active member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.

Visit her website at https://www.barbarajeanweber.com/. 

 

 

Sponsored By:

BOOK TOUR/GUEST POST for ARTSY RAMBLER by EVY JOURNEY

 

Unveil the beauty and complexity of the world around you by unleashing the power of art as you satisfy your wanderlust.

Title: Artsy Rambler

Author: Evy Journey

Publisher: Independent

Pages: 268

Genre: Nonfiction/Art/Travel

Format: Paperback, Kindle, FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Experience the transformative power of art when you see the rich and vibrant city of Paris through the eyes of a mindful artsy traveler. From the light-inspired grandeur of Gothic cathedrals and the fresh beauty of Impressionism, sinuous forms that speak to our innate sense of beauty, and the rare library that helps one define oneself; to the role of French cuisine and cultural events in shaping the city’s uniqueness, this collection of essays will take you on a journey of discovery and self-reflection.

Amidst the charm and allure of Paris and its art, questions arise and conflicts are explored. Can art truly enrich our understanding of life? Can it help extricate us from constantly waging wars? And how does a urinal become a symbol of controversy that challenges our conception of art?

If you enjoyed “A Moveable Feast” by Ernest Hemingway, this thought-provoking and sometimes meditative collection of essays will unveil the beauty and complexity of the world around you by unleashing the power of art as you satisfy your wanderlust.

Read sample here.

Artsy Rambler: Mindful Journeys to Paris and Beyond is available at Amazon.

Excerpt:

Prologue—How It All Began

I ran after my brothers and their friends—empty cans in their hands—as they rushed to a pond to catch tadpoles. They filled their cans with water from the pond and dropped the tadpoles into the cans. What they did with those tadpoles, I would never know. Later in the afternoon, they flew kites when the wind was good. Or they rode astride a water buffalo that took them across an open field behind the few houses in the neighborhood. 

They refused to take me on those little adventures—I was a girl, wore dresses, and could never keep up with them. That was what they said as they ran faster so I couldn’t catch up. I was unhappy at being excluded. Who wouldn’t be? But I had, by then, started to learn to live with being alone.

I spent my first six years with adults—my Lola (grandmother) and her two young unmarried daughters—in a town eight hours by slow train from the big city where my parents lived. Having no one my age to play with, I conjured up an imaginary playmate who stayed with me until we no longer needed one another. I had a big brother who kept my mother’s hands full as she took care of him and worked to secure a permanent position as a teacher. 

In my Lola’s little town, no family owned a television to entertain them. But on occasional nights, sweet and sentimental tunes accompanied by a guitar pierced the dark silence just below the closed window in my aunts’ room. The serenaders were young swains courting one or the other of my pretty aunts who, if they liked these suitors or how they sang, invited them into the living room. There, singing went on for another hour or two. My youngest aunt who had a nice voice and knew some English songs was always invited to sing. 

Like the adults, I stayed up for those soirees, sitting with Lola on the steps of the stairway to the bedrooms. Out of sight of the serenaders and my aunts. Lost, as much as the adults were, in the beguiling strains of what I learned later were love songs. I had heard many of those songs in previous serenades, and heard them sung again in later ones.

My parents took me back when I was ready to go to elementary school, although I continued to spend school vacations with Lola. I met my brothers—three of them by then—for the first time. To ease the transition to a new, and for me at the time, a strange, maybe even threatening environment, I learned to draw, initially by copying images of objects in picture books. Things like fruits, flowers, cups and glasses. Figures didn’t lag far behind. And soon, they claimed most of my drawing time.

Maybe it was from those preteen years of solitary innocence that I began to see myself as a spectator of life. I became more convinced of it as I spent time alone in my room, hearing the boisterous playing and feuding from the adjacent room shared by my brothers. 

Across the years, I watched them play and fight, and the only time I remember going with them—when they ignored me—was when they flew kites, those light as the wind inanimate birds my brothers fashioned from colored paper and bamboo sticks. I filled my solitude by drawing and playing the serenades I remembered in my head. 

In those early years, I lived within walking distance of the Pacific Ocean. You stare at that extensive expanse of blue long enough, and you can’t help wondering what’s beyond that seemingly infinite space. 

I wasn’t alone in my curiosity about that imagined faraway world. Left to entertain myself, it was probably inevitable that I eavesdropped as my mother revealed her dreams to her relatives and friends. My mother dreamt of sailing across oceans to visit places that promised so much more than the island we lived in. Maybe her dreams were imprinted from the accumulated legacy of more than 400 years of domination by Spanish and American conquerors. Dreams that needed translation into some version of reality.

For her, that reality meant living in the United States, visiting Spain, and later, seeing as much as she could of the rest of the world. She talked about her dreams often enough that they became my dreams as well. Dreams that, for me, morphed into a near-obsession when I read English-language fiction that kindled a desire to see its varied settings. 

My mother realized her dreams in her forties, coming to the United States, first as a student pursuing a master’s degree in education, and shortly thereafter, as an immigrant when my father retired from the military as an officer with a pension. Applying for immigration usually takes years, but it’s expedited in certain cases, e.g., having relatives who are American citizens, or being a WWII veteran, like Dad. 

That monthly pension was to be put in a kitty for travel. Or for necessities, if money got tight. But they both found jobs in California, maybe thanks to their facility with English and their former professions in the native land (Mom was a teacher and Dad, an army lawyer). So, when the time felt right for them, they toured Europe and Asia.

I didn’t wait until I was forty to discover what lay beyond Pacific shores. Shortly after getting an undergraduate degree at twenty-one, I was accepted to two American graduate schools. One, in Michigan, came with an offer of a scholarship. But it had a price—returning to teach at a university in the Philippines for about ten years. The second university, in Hawaii, offered a graduate assistantship, no strings attached. 

For me, the choice was clear. Hawaii would be less of a shock than Michigan, and better than that, I could do whatever I wanted after grad school.

Grad school, particularly for a foreign student, required dogged concentration that curtailed social life. But it also needed relief. For me, that relief came from doing art. It wasn’t so much the finished drawings as it was the process of making them that helped sustain me through the stress of graduate school. 

After a couple of years in Hawaii, I completed my graduate program in Illinois, interspersed with hours of doing pencil sketches in between writing term papers, a master’s thesis, and a dissertation.

Later, during breaks from regular jobs, I completed a year’s worth of art classes—some theory and history, and a little more on art technique and creation. My media expanded from pencil to oils, acrylics, pastels, charcoal, and lately, digital art apps.

Though I sold a painting once, I’ve never made money from art. I love looking at art, and time passes quickly and pleasurably whenever I draw or paint. But maybe, I was not driven enough and events didn’t align to steer me towards a life devoted to profitable art production. 

Those years of drawing since I discovered the fun of  making marks on a piece of paper convinced me that everyone has what the authors of Your Brain on Art call an Aesthetic Mindset. It’s up to you to nurture it and let it serve you in any way it can. Actually, I’d go further and propose that since Art is a form of language, it’s also built into your genes.

After my first full-time job after graduate school, I went with a friend on a cheap packaged tour to Europe during which I wrote my first travel journal. And it was during that three-week tour that I learned to be “in the moment”—to cast my full attention on what I was looking at. 

I think it was inevitable. Gazing at masterpieces of art (a Praxiteles statue, for instance; or centuries-old architecture) as well as ruins of old civilizations (Pompeii) fired my imagination and evoked awe and wonder for what was before me. They made me reflect on what they meant to me (and all of us) and my (our) relationship to the world and history around us. For example, while touring Pompeii: I have always thought that across centuries, civilization has progressed. Now, I’m no longer so sure. And: Two thousand years from now, what would be left to show of our own modern civilization?

By now, I’ve lived in and visited many places, much of it with Rich (my husband): Asia and Europe and a bit of North Africa. In subsequent European travels, we’ve often ended up in Paris. Twice, we stayed six months, the longest the Schengen agreement allows visitors to stay in countries within the Schengen area (unless you’ve obtained a specific visa like a student visa, for instance). One of those six-month sojourns was spent entirely in Paris where I became something of an observer-wanderer. A flâneuse, as the French would say.I kept reading. Initially, books, journal articles, and research papers necessary for my education and my job. When I needed a little respite from life, I read fiction—world literature that ranged from Austen to Dostoevsky (who ignited my first existentialist crisis in my late teens). I found words are great containers—for adventures, memories, and stories; even for art.

– Excerpted from Artsy Rambler: Mindful Journeys to Paris and Beyond, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

 GUEST POST

Fantastical Creatures in Gothic Churches

I didn’t notice them right away because they were up high, near the top of the church. Besides I was predisposed to heed the saintly figures lined up side by side along the façade of the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris and on the religious scenes and figures adorning its entrances. 

It wasn’t until later—after going through the church and before finding a bench to rest on for a few minutes, under the trees behind the cathedral—that I saw them. I looked up towards the cathedral spire, my gaze alighting on grotesque-looking creatures protruding out of the edges of a lower roof, their mouths open as if they were ready to vomit or spew fire out of their bodies. 

I shuddered a little, uncontrollably. For some reason, those grotesque figures made me think of Alexandre Dumas’ novel Hunchback of Notre Dame. It wasn’t because Quasimodo had any physical resemblance to those creatures. It was more the feeling of dread that united these figures in my mind—the imagined dark psychological mysteries behind their peculiarities. 

It took me some time to find out what those creatures were—that trip occurred before the internet and researching anything entailed trudging to a library and pulling books out of shelves. 

It turns out those grotesque creatures—gargoyles, I learned—were harmless and, in fact, useful. They were created for a very practical purpose—to drain water from the gutters on the roof of the cathedral, their open mouths serving as spouts. In fact, the word “gargoyle” originated from the Old French word for throat: gargouille. 

But why construct these spouts using monstrous forms? There were actually other grotesques on the church’s roof with their mouths closed and could not be used for drainage.

Much later, I thought of gargoyles again while doing research for The Golden Manuscripts, the last book in my fiction series, Between Two Worlds. Many medieval manuscripts of the Gothic period—the majority of which were religious—had images on the edges of books depicting figures/creatures that were also grotesque. 

No present-day scholar can tell you precisely why those grotesque figures fascinated the medieval man, enough to make them a part of the church’s drainage system or as decorations on the margins of religious books.

 

About the Author

Evy Journey writes. Stories. Blogs (three sites). Cross-genre novels. She’s also a wannabe artist, and a flâneuse (an ambler).

Evy studied psychology (M.A., University of Hawaii; Ph.D. University of Illinois) initially to help her understand herself and Dostoevsky. Now, she spins tales about nuanced multicultural characters negotiating separate realities. She believes in love and its many faces.

Just as she has crossed genres in writing fiction, she has also crossed cultures, having lived and traveled in various cities in different countries. Find her thoughts on travel, art, and food at Artsy Rambler.

She has one ungranted wish: to live in Paris where art is everywhere and people have honed aimless roaming to an art form. She visits and stays a few months when she can.

Evy’s latest book is Artsy Rambler: Mindful Journeys to Paris and Beyond.

Visit her website at https://evyjourney.net.

Connect with her on social media at:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/evictoriajourney

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/eveonalimb2

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/evy-journey 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14845365.Evy_Journey 

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