Friday 6 November 2015

Guest Author Jorja DuPont Oliva

Jorja DuPont Oliva is the author of the Chasing Butterflies series.  After chasing her own butterflies, the opportunity to write a book became possible when she discovered Michael Ray King’s “Go write” classes.  Novel writing would never have been possible without the motivation and inspiration that the classes gave her. Jorja believes Chasing Butterflies represents change and going after your passions. Therefore, that is what she has done.
Jorja DuPont Oliva weaves stories of small town outlook with a touch of magical charm. Jorja’s quirky, southern writer’s voice makes her stories relaxing and easy to consume in a day.

Jorja’s debut novel - Chasing Butterflies in the Magical Garden was published 2013. By many readers’ accounts, her stories are colorful, honest and inspirational with a touch of innocence. Jorja’s second book in the series – Chasing Butterflies in the Mystical Forest  just released October 2014. We continue on a magical journey but this time in the mystical forest with a more mature, and evolved Dee and Lizzy. Each story Jorja writes has a lesson. Not only has this story shown the growth of her characters but also has affected the growth of her writings.

Jorja has just released the third book in the series – Chasing Butterflies in the Unseen Universe published Oct. 2015.

Jorja’s books contain symbolic meanings of nature’s beautiful works of art. Her unique prologues also contain a view into the eyes of creatures of air and earth as they look at human struggles. The chapters contain quotes from all areas of beliefs from Biblical, spiritual, inspirational and self-help.

An excerpt from Chasing Butterflies in the Mystical Forest.

No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land,
or opened a new doorway for the human spirit.”- Helen Keller


“Rip? Are you all right? Ripley?” A muffled voice asked becoming clearer in the darkness. My old tired eyes slowly opened. “If you can’t beat’em join’em I always say.” Above me stood a foggy version of an older silver headed Dee. As I started to sit up, my sight slowly focused on the person standing in front of me. It was Dee; she was coherent, and talking to me.
“I can see you.” I exhaled. “I can see...And you...You are here.”
“Are you alright? You took a nasty fall.” Dee asked as she helped me to my feet. Dee brushed at the leaves that were clinging to my pants.
“You are really here, and I can see you.” I exhaled the disbelief. I glanced around and noticed we were no longer at the nursing home. We were standing in a strange wooded forest. Are we in the bayou? Where are we? Am I Dreaming?
“We aren’t dreaming.” Dee smiled.
She hears what I’m thinking?
“I do.” Dee grinned. “Can’t keep no secrets from me. At least here you can’t.”
“I’m confused.” I pondered what was happening.
“Are we gonna have some fun or what? I’ve been cooped up with old people for way too long. By the way, thanks for reading to me every Wednesday. That was the only sanity I could get in that place.” Dee just grinned.
“Where are we?” I looked around not recognizing anything.
“The Mystical Forest, I come here a lot. More so now.” Dee patted me on the back and strolled around a birch tree. “You gave this back to me. When you started reading to me, it helped me remember this place. Cool place, right?” Dee picked at her teeth with a twig she had scooped up from the ground. Dee’s silver hair started to color itself to the most beautiful color of red I had ever seen. The worn tired eyes she carried too began to smooth out. She looked just as she had when we were young women.
“You are...Young.” I stumbled over my words. “I can see you and you are young.”

“We...We my dear, are young.”
I looked down at my hands. My hands looked so much as my mother’s looked just a few years before she passed. My age spots lightened, the crises and wrinkles straighten with each blink of my tired eyes. I slowly stood straight and I no longer had a slouching posture. I feel amazing. Every ache, every stiff part of my body was gone. I too am young again.
“So you want to live, right?” Dee smiled. “Let’s get the hell on it then.” Dee grabbed me by the hand and pulled me along, towards the most beautiful rainbow that stood at the edge of the forest.
“Wait, we need to grab the book.” I glanced back to where the chair sat moments before. The book was no longer there.
“We don’t need the book now...” Dee just smiled at me. “We are in it. Come on... let’s get to the Garden...Lizzy should be there. Oh boy do I have a surprise for you...”
An excerpt from Chasing Butterflies in the Unseen Universe

“What is happening here?” I asked as we walk through the rainbow, into a field of sunflowers. Each flower pivoted towards the suns beautiful light. As if time was moving in fast forward yet standing still at the same moment.
“We are special Ripley. We were born, as what they call star children. We were placed on earth to change things. To help people. Like earth angels.” Dee glanced at me as she moved the massive sunflowers out of our walking path. “We are good. We help people see things that are unseen. Like wireless internet.” Dee smiled.
“I don’t understand.”
“Remember when cell phones, wireless technology, and cordless phones came to be? We had to try to explain how it worked to your parents, right? How information was all around us but yet they didn’t see it.” Dee stopped walking for a moment.
“I guess. I still don’t understand what that has to do with what is happening with us, here. Now.”
“That is exactly what is happening to us. Our brain is made up of energy that I call my soul, you call your conscious, and Lizzy called it her muse. Like cellular energy or wireless internet. Love is that connection, an unconditional connection. Our bodies are only the vessel, like the phone. The phone helps retrieve the signal.”
“So, are you saying we aren’t in our vessels right now? We are only energy waves? Connected by unconditional love?”
“Exactly! Star children are those that know they are connected through these energy waves. You have heard the saying kindred souls, right? There is no cord holding us together. Only an invisible thread, energy wave of unconditional love.” Dee began to walk again. “We are only a small part of a bigger something. Each of us has our own function. Like this book, we are the characters, each of us different, but connected together we make up the story.”  Dee stopped again and tapped her pointer finger to her lip three times.  “Kind of like cells in your body. They all work together to help the body function or the vessel per say.”
“I kind of understand. I guess what I am really wanting to know is... Where is my vessel? Are we dead?’
“Ripley, I’m as healthy as a horse, you heard the doctors. It’s going to take more than you having a nasty fall to kill me off.” Dee grinned. “Your vessel is fine, and you aren’t dead. They...I’ll explain more of that to you later. For now, let’s go live. We can even get a chance to visit with Lizzy.”
“But...I thought...So Lizzy is...She is here?”
“No, not really here. Like I said, we are all a part of a bigger whole. She isn’t here, but we are there. I know I’m probably confusing the hell out of you. We are in the book, remember?”
Dee always had a way with words. Although at times they were complicated and eccentric. Her idea's always helped me see things I would have never have noticed, or seen if it wasn’t for Dee. Dee sometimes even help me understand the wrongs of the world and how maybe the wrong’s weren’t so wrong. How everything had a consequence, a reason or a function.
“Speaking of Lizzy, remember back before Lizzy moved in with us? How we use to almost-know how each other felt, and would answer each other before the question was asked. We were connected then.” Dee smiled. “Remember in Mrs. Lily’s 1st grade art class, you, me and Lizzy had painted similar garden pictures. Connected!” Dee squealed and then she continued. “We weren’t friends back then but we were all three connected. Almost like we knew we would always meet in the garden.” Dee smiled with a confirming nod. “Oh yeh, and when Lizzy moved back into town? You said yourself you knew she was back before you even called her parents’ home. You said, You felt her presence. Remember?”
“I was never good at remembering that kind of stuff. Honestly only recently have I been flooded with all kinds of memories. I
gave credit to the book.”
“Oh yes, the book. Kind of funny, you say you want to live, yet every time the book is read you are living. In whoever is reading the book, you are living in their imagination. You will live forever.”
“It isn’t the same.”
Dee stepped over top of some old railroad tracks the sunflowers had grown to cover up. I followed. “Oh but it is the same. I wanted to stop by here to see how the old house was doing.”
Only a short distant away stood the old house Dee was so very fond of. She inherited it after her father died. She always talked about having some connection to it. Even before she learned her family owned it. Maybe she is right about being link through unconditional love.
The house stood just as I remembered. I too always loved the old house. As to why, probably the stories that seemed to come from it. Mostly ghost stories. I never believed there were ghost.  Dee’s theory of energies somehow made the house and the stories all make some sort of crazy since. A lot like my old sofa and the memories that still sat upon it.
“Let’s go check it out. It should only take a minute.” Dee grabbed for my hand. “A minute.” Dee huffed. “I always forget time doesn’t exist here.” She dragged me by the hand towards the old house.

Thank you Jorja for sharing your delightful story on the Scribbler. Please follow this link to find out more about this  accomplished author and where you can buy her novels.

The Scribbler had planned on hosting the 4Q Interview with Mathieu D'Astous but due to time restraints, the interview is not ready at present but we are working on it with hopes to post it soon, possibly next week.



  1. Thank you Allan for having me as a Guest!

    1. It is my pleasure Jorja. It's always a treat to have talented authors on the Scribbler. Thank you for agreeing to participate.


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