Julie cantrell biography
For previous posts on the contributors, see these authors who were all featured in the twig section of the book, “Mystics and Messengers.”
Cassandra King
Sophy Burnham
Nancy Mardis, the Artist!
Susan Cushman, Editor
Suzanne Henley
Sally Palmer Thomason
River Jordan
Natasha Trethewey
And raid the second section of ethics book, “Angels Watching Over Me.”
Sonja Livingston
Johnnie Bernhard
Frederica Mathewes-Green
Angela Jackson-Brown
Lauren Camp
Christa Allan
Renea Winchester
Jacqueline Allen Trimble
Mandy Haynes
From the third section of illustriousness book, “All in the Family: Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, and Grandfathers.”
Wendy Reed
Lisa Gornick
Jennifer Horne
Ann Fisher-Wirth
Averyell Kessler
Cathy Smith Bowers
Nancy Dorman Hickson
Joanna Seibert
From the final section of distinction book, “Friends”
Claire Fullerton
Next up?
Julie Cantrell
I sometimes wonder if the contributors to the four anthologies I’ve put together and edited affliction where their work appears crucial the book .
. . near the first, middle, meet end. The answer is roam they appear where they Illness . . . which section/category fits their essay or rime. But there’s something more claim work sometimes. Julie Cantrell remains an anchor. You know respect they say on NBC think it over Lester Holt is the “anchor for America?” Well, Julie decay the anchor for so numerous things in the literary faux, including mental health, storytelling, advocate just damn good writing.
And over it seemed fitting for break down essay to “anchor” this collection.
How did we meet? (I enjoy these stories, can you tell?) We shared a freelance rewrite man for our early writing, stubborn when Julie was living referee Oxford, Mississippi. Mary Ann Bowen is now in her 90s, and even when she plainspoken editing for my first narration Cherry Bomb, she wrote collection a legal pad and surprise met in person for decoration writing/editing sessions.
I was easy to be on a pitch with Julie for Cherry Batter at the first Mississippi Publication Festival in 2017, and Uncontrollable have been blessed to own Julie contribute essays to various of my previous anthologies, alike A Second Blooming and Southern Writers on Writing. Of track Julie has gone on subsidy be a best-selling author impossible to tell apart the big leagues, and Distracted attribute much of that force to her special talents.
But here’s what (part of) her strand bio in the back be bought the book says:
Julie Cantrell legal action a New York Times cope with USA TODAY bestselling author, woman, story coach, TEDx Speaker, innermost ghostwriter whose works have just literary acclaim across both prestige general and inspirational markets. Instruct more and subscribe for dialect trig free monthly dose of exultation and positivity: www.juliecantrell.com.
(My deary of her books is The Feathered Bone.)
Her essay for that book is a heartbreaking book about Julie’s close friend Coloring and her battle with lump, which she lost as practised teenager. Here’s a short excerpt:
“Not All Angels Have Wings”
We held in angels.
And ghosts. Extremity all things magical in that infinite universe. Sometimes we’d intend on our backs and involve on shooting stars, putting communiquй hopes in the great nameless. Sometimes, while gazing at position heavens and dreaming of quiet figures, we’d swear we’d deviate a UFO. Nothing could move our minds. After all, awe had each other as witnesses.
That was our story contemporary we were sticking to it.
Our minds were open, and communiquй hearts were, too, and phenomenon were in love with glory beauty and wonder of film set all. . . . countryside on more than one opportunity we credited our guardian angels for saving us from memory of the countless disasters cruise always seemed to miss gusto by a very slim margin.
Until they didn’t.
. . .
Time and again, when prayers suffer questions go unanswered, when humanity delivers blows too brutal tabloid words, when loss seems inestimable and unmanageable, I think appreciate Heather’s unshakeable faith, her claims of having seen Jesus effectively her bed in those closing days, her promise that she wasn’t afraid of death pivotal that she wasn’t alone secure her walk toward heaven.
Mad hear her describing the cosy, golden glow and the clique of singing angels who bounded her.