Friday, October 31, 2014

And you, sir, are not such a hotshot!

Am I dreaming? I stare at it in great awe.
“Ah!” says Satan, noting my expression with great interest. “You are a curious creature, woman.”
“No disrespect intended, sir,” I say, “but don’t play with me. If you know my name—which I am sure you do—you would do well to use it when you talk to me.”
“Oh, I would,” he teases me, “if you were to offer me at least a token of gratitude, if you know what I mean.”
I do. And it’s not that I am not tempted... Satan is a handsome fellow, even with fine-haired goat beard on his chin, which is something I could persuade him to shave off, in time...
“Here we are,” he presses on. “All alone, apparently, in a deserted library... Now, how badly do you want your name back, woman?”
In place of an answer, I gulp.
And he says, “I am given to caprice, you know. So I may, perhaps, be persuaded to give your name back to you...”
His words go roundabout, but his gaze is quite direct. Which leaves me dumbfounded; but only for a second. After all, even as a corpse I cannot risk a scandal—and in my own village, or the copy of it, of all places! The place seems vacant at the moment—but then, who knows? 
They say, walls have ears... And gossip, my God, it would be devastating. For sure, it would kill my husband. His heart has been so weak lately. Betrayal—even a whisper of it—would crush him. It would add to the weight of his mounting woes. I still care for Job, even if I am here, trapped in this hellish replica of my birthplace, and he—somewhere up there, in the real thing.
In the silence that has fallen upon the room Satan leafs casually through the pages of the book. Then he raises the magnifying glass to his eye, and glares at me.
“I see,” he says. “Didn’t think so. Just testing; forget it.”
“I will.”
“You are not all that sexy, anyway.”
“And you, sir, are not such a hotshot.”

Job's wife and Satan in Twisted

My bronze sculpture, From Dust

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Thursday, October 30, 2014

Come join David and Bathsheba in the royal gardens!

Happy Halloween, everyone! Like to dress up in costumes, or to strike a funny pose? You've come to the right place! Here is Bathsheba Bathing, a lovely oil painting painting by Paolo Veronese, showing king David approaching her with a proposition in mind... I invite you to step into the scene, and help the action along! 

Here's how:
  1. First, join my Celebrate event (if you haven't already); 
  2. Then, give me an image of yourself--perhaps with your Halloween costume?--by sending me a PM (private message on Facebook) and using Add Photo in it.
Then I will add your image into this scene, so we can all party together in the royal garden with David and Bathsheba!

Surprises and prizes, don't miss the fun!

Come celebrate with me! My book, A Peek at Bathsheba, is about to appear in an amazing audio edition, just in time for the holidays. I invite you to listen to excerpts, narrated by the gifted actor, musician and singer Justin Harmer. There will be surprises and prizes, don't miss the fun!


Click the image and click Join

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

This is a sweet moment for me, and a sad one too

So exciting! Producing the audiobook edition of A Peek at Bathsheba is quickly coming to its completion! This is a sweet moment for me, and a sad one too, because I would miss working with my wonderful narrator, Justin Harmer, who has truly become David, and every one of his wives and enemies. 

I will post more about the process of creative collaboration between us in coming days. To learn more about him, click here: About Justin HarmerMeanwhile I am hard at work, doing the graphic design for the audiobook cover. Here is the problem, maybe you can help me figure it out: how do I come up with a great cover, one that balances the following pieces of information, one that will do it without clutter, even though each one of them has quite a number of letters:

  • Author name: yours truly. 
  • Narrator's Name: most audiobook covers do not even mention the narrator, but I like to give credit where credit is due! 
  • Series name: since this is a trilogy, I would love to display its name for all three volumes, uniting them under the same theme.
  • Book title: A Peek at Bathsheba.

The audiobook will be ready just in time for the holidays. Can you wait? I know I can't!

 Volume I of the trilogy: 
Rise to Power
★ Audio ★ Ebook ★ Print 

Volume II of the trilogy:
A Peek at Bathsheba
★ Audio coming real soon! ★ Ebook ★ Print 

Volume III of the trilogy:
The Edge of Revolt
★ On the drawing board 

"She writes with exquisite prose and elegant style, 
yet delivers piercing truth and insights into the human psyche on the way. 
A wonderful read."

Monday, October 27, 2014

An intriguing novel...Buy it, Read it, LOVE it!

New review for the audiobook edition of Apart From Love:
  • Racquel10-27-14
    Overall
    Performance
    Story
"An intriguing novel...Buy it, Read it, LOVE it!"
Any additional comments?
Uvi Poznansky explores the intricate and complex world of love in ‘Apart From Love’. Very well written and engaging throughout, this novel does, as so many have indicated, reveal the multiple truths behind a dysfunctional family. This author has a real gift for getting right inside her characters' heads. I found her words possessed a special kind of tenderness. Uvi's style is like beautiful poetry. I have never read a book like this. It really stayed interesting till the very last page. The author has great talent and a true master of her craft. Highly recommend the audio


Late Lover

A diamond short, a decade late
I come to stand outside your gate
Unlock and open, let me in
Forgive me, love; what is my sin?
I fled from you across the land
But now I ask you for your hand
A decade late, a diamond short
I can't imagine why you snort
My limbs are frail, my breath is cold
I must admit I may look old
I fall, I kneel, why
I implore
You are the woman I adore
I feel so weak, I feel so brittle
Don't touch! I may be impotent a little
You loved me onceor so I thought
Stop! Take your fingers off my throat


I painted Late Lover from the point of view of the girl he had left behind. She and you, the observer, are one. He is yearning to come back home. A blue cape is flung around his shoulders, which allows the eye to stay with him, rather than drift off to the background, seen in the spaces between his flimsy ribs. More importantly, you can see the withered flowers he lays at your feet, and the ring being cast off your finger, straight onto his head. The words 'A diamond short, a decade late' are carved into the door frame, perhaps with your fingernails, scratching letter after letter over the long-drawn-out years of waiting for him... 

Having painted him all day, the voice of Late Lover came to me at night. The next morning I wrote his poem down in a single breath, and never made any corrections, never replaced a word or adjusted the rhythm--because it came to me completely ready.

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Sunday, October 26, 2014

At the sound of this word, I—I dropped to my knees

So, he drinks; after which I ask, with caution, “So—what did the doctor tell you?”
He’s raising his eyes again, but the right words can’t be found nowhere close to him—not on the ceiling, or on the wall, or the floor, in this corner, or that. So instead, Lenny shuts his eyes and, like, stumbles into saying, “The doctor, he said: Mr. Kaminsky, the tests came back.”
“At this point,” he recalls, “I took a hard swallow. The doctor paused briefly—perhaps taking another look at the test results—and then went on to say, I have some difficult news for you. Your wife, I believe, has a form of Alzheimer's.”
I take the briefcase away from him, ‘cause it’s just about to fall, anyway. 
And so Lenny can’t brace himself no more, ‘cause at this point, he don’t have nothing to hold on to, and nowhere to hide. Instead he just sits there, with the empty glass, saying, “Alzheimer's,” and then again, in a voice that is nearly gagged, “Alzheimer's.” 
And after a long pause he adds, “At the sound of this word, Natasha was confused and I—I dropped to my knees. I remember, she could not get it, could not understand what was going on and told the doctor, Wait, hold on, I cannot talk to you now. Call back later, something is wrong here. No, not with me—with my husband.” 
Lenny takes off his glasses and like, wipes something from the corner of his eye, and my heart goes out to him. And then, then the strangest thing starts happening to me. For the first time in ten years I feel not only for him—but for her, too. 

Anita in Apart From Love


In this passage, Lenny tells his new wife, Anita, how the doctors finally came to the conclusion that Natasha, his ex-wife, suffers from early onset Alzheimer's. This is not an easy conversation for him, having kept the secret to himself for such a long time.


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“The attention to detail showcases the smooth pen of the author”