Global Ebook Awards – a triple!

gold medalGEbA_Silver

The 2015 Global Ebook Awards were announced yesterday. I am very pleased to announce that I WON the following:

“Best of” Categories:
Ebook Cover: GOLD: By Light Betrayed
Ebook Photography: SILVER: By Light Betrayed (no Gold medals awarded)

Category: Poetry
SILVER: By Light Betrayed (No Gold medals awarded)

One gold and two silvers! And my silvers are as good as gold to me since no golds were awarded in those categories!

Normally, I don’t like to tout awards or brag very much but I am honored and proud and wanted to share with you. And in case any of you wonder, yes, awards do matter to some readers who are trying to chose between books. If you could get an award-winning book over one that isn’t, might you choose the winner? Especially with poetry, you want any edge you can get.

I’m also pleased that my photography won an award! That really has me over the moon. Cover, poetry and photography. Whee!


Other News: My novella, Midnight Assassin, A tale of  lust and revenge, is in production. Release expectation remains Sept 2015!

And more surprises coming soon!

Thanks for hanging in!
Keep writing.

Yours Between the Lines,


New and Future Happenings


Hello out there! Long time no share. I do apologize but have been busy. Let me share some recent events.

First, I am pleased to announce that I was included in a wonderful anthology entitled Mirrored Voices: Best Contemporary Poetry, compiled by poet/author Paul Morabito. The anthology was ranked #1 on Amazon’s best new poetry anthologies. I’m pleased to be included with some of these quite extraordinary poets. If you are looking for a small compilation of current poets, you might consider this one. I do not get anything for this anthology (it all goes to the editor) but it is a good kindle present! Click here.

In case you missed it on Facebook, I’m delighted to announce that By Light Betrayed received a 5 Star Review from Readers’ Favorite International Book Awards AND I was named a Finalist in the National Indie Excellence Awards. So, my vampires are happy.

Next, I’m delighted to announce that I have finished Midnight Assassin, the novella that was promised in the back of By Light Betrayed. Expect a release in 60 days or less! I’ll keep you posted.

While I work the publishing (and promotions and all that good stuff), I’m busy finishing some other works (a memoir, a fairy story, a vampire novel/series).

And of course, a part of me is thinking ahead to National Novel Writing Month because I am one of two Municipal Liaisons for the Charlotte region in North Carolina and it’s time to start planning for this month of hell. Seriously. Month of HELL. What to write? What novel can I get 75% finished in November? Oh the pain.

Finally, looking forward, I am going to appear on The Ron Shaw radio show on Oct 26 (more on that as we get closer) and then next year I am already planning on two author signings (on in NC and one in FL).


Lots to keep up with and I promise you’ll be in the know going forward! Also, I’ll be publicizing some of my friends’ releases and I hope you’ll join me in helping them launch some terrific books.

If we haven’t connected on Facebook or Twitter, please lets do. I’m more often there than here for personal stuff but this is where the key events are happening.

Thank you for hanging in there. I’ll be back in a day or so to talk about more serious things.
Now, go back to your writing!

Yours Between the Lines,

5 Stars for By Light Betrayed!

By Light Betrayed – Poetry of the Vampires has received a 5 Star rating by Readers’ Favorite International Book Awards! I’m so very pleased and I wanted to share with you. This is the first step in the preliminaries for awards. Only four and five star winners will be eligible for awards, so I’m in!


Reviewed by Charity Tober for Readers’ Favorite

By Light Betrayed: Poetry of the Vampires by Sherry Rentschler is both a distinctive and interesting read. There are over thirty poems featuring haunting and melancholy vampire themes. For example, in the poem Crossing the Line, it reads: “Sunlight teases behind the tomb. Dandelions wilt against the concrete. I dance on sidewalk shadows, death between the lines.” And in the poem Royal Street, the author states: “Time is for memories, frayed recollections, fraught with our chaos and short on regret. We are the remnants of innocent wishes lost in the pavement, too sharp to forget.” The author does a good job keeping each poem distinct and includes various color pictures (mostly graveyards and such) to accompany the poems.

First off, the cover for By Light Betrayed: Poetry of the Vampires is superb (both alluring and haunting) and really sets the tone for the book. I typically do not read very much in the poetry genre, but I did enjoy reading this book. The flow was nice and I liked how it included pictures to go along with the text. The empty graveyard scenes went well with the atmosphere and narrative of the poems. I felt the author focused on the dark, struggling, wandering and mysterious aspects of vampires (and not the sparkling, angst-ridden kind). You can tell through the poems that the author is really a fan of vampires and understands all of the myths and popularity that goes along with them. I think the book would appeal to fans of both vampires and poetry.


No sparkly vampires for me! haha

If you were wondering if you should give the book a try, I hope this might encourage you. Thank you to Readers’ Favorite for their generous comments.

Feel free to see the review and leave comments (via Facebook or the site) from the page. Thank you.

Ah Media – Poetry


Ah, Media

Drivel, doggerel, and diatribes!
Who supplied sterile stones for
castling, omissible dotterels with
sandpaper rubbed tongues,
brazen and ministering, masterful
missals, funereal arsenide?
Ah, sweet miserable media —
skeptical, unstoppable sybarites!
S. Rentschler /Apr 30, 2013

Hyperbole! Simile! Alliteration! Metaphors! How I love the diversity and fun of poetry! What do YOU love about it?

Birth of a Poet – A commentary



The Birth of a Poet

April is National Poetry Month; all the poetry magazines are making big deal about it. Even the magazines that don’t feature poetry are suddenly filling corners and spaces with little odd quotes and dribbles of poetic inspiration. Bah! They don’t understand poetry! It’s just a way to capture that tiny, growing population of dreamers, skeptics, and editors. It’s all a kind of ballyhoo because it’s expected or required to be profitable and trendy. However, I don’t think they understand what it all really means. I certainly didn’t. Until today.

You see, I read poetry every day. Wrote it, too. Every day. I scoffed at magazines pitching poetry between their covers only once a year. I shunned people who claimed to have a grip on precision and form but spent their time reading horror or mystery novels and never actually penned a single simile. Yes, I was a poetry snob.

Sometimes I looked askance at my peers because their poetry all sounded the same, lacked verve or passion, or even a rhyme. Oh yes, I prided myself on hard work and understanding, on learning my craft and my visionary works. “It’s April?” I would scoff. “So? Every day is a poetry day for me!” Such was my arrogance. Until today.

Today I went to my desk and did what I always do. First, a little light reading, for inspiration. I’m rather fond of Billy Shakespeare. Today roared with his poetic Venus and Adonis. An hour of Shakespeare to study form and style. A few thoughts scribbled until something of my own begins to take shape. Pleased, I take a break and read my writers’ magazines. Then time to work on my book. Another break for lunch. Finally, I lovingly slide a folder of half-baked poems – random thoughts, excellent one-liners, and poesies needing editing – across my desk. I slave! If I’m lucky, and work tenaciously, something beautiful will emerge and I’ll swell with pride having created a poem. That is, I always would. Until today.

Today as I realized it was National Poetry Month, I also realized I was bored with the magazines acting as if this was their great discovery. So I shook off the hypocrisy and decided on a walk. Spring was slipping and sliding in the muck that was my backyard, tossing wildflowers in between the carefully planted daffodils and tulips. I smiled at these treasures like poems in the making, random verses just waiting to bloom. Like the blossoms, I believed in my own absolute development when suddenly, what once was a dandelion weakly cried out to me. The yellow gone, the gossamer fluff having blown away, there was only a ragged stem. I huffed aloud. A weed! A dead weed among my treasures! Or so I thought. Until today.

As I stood there by that dandelion, a strange compulsion overcame me. I don’t know why but I knelt down and stretched out beside the stem. I really studied it, surprisingly curious; and then I rolled over in the grass, and gazed at what I thought the once-yellowed, now empty, stem saw.

Above me – us – a bounty of clouds in a periwinkle sky, a framework for a nut-brown butterfly cruising close. The acrid exhaust of a tour bus and fresh grass seed augmented by pungent, wild onions. Sounds of a deep-rumble of a bumblebee and the hollow honking of a geese formation rolled by on a tickling breeze. I smiled but only because these were expected things and not a shock.

Then I discovered poetry.

Twilight rolled over the stem and me, damp and uncomfortable. The weed that had thrived on sunshine and wind looked somehow naked and fruitless, limp and alone in a Bermuda yard. I touched the stem, sticky and fuzzy, and understood its tenuous hold in the earth. It was dying. Nothing in Nature seemed to care, not a bird or even a worm paid attention. Yet this little stem clung in thirsty desperation to a sandy, unyielding soil, staring like a silent guardian at its last night sky. There was no arrogance or sorrow. Above, a sky of stars and a universe beyond it, unreachable to this weed, yet it sang with the totality of life. Amazed, I remained with the barren stem until the dew came; the stem turned black and died. I had spent the night in wonderment of a simple weed.

Today, I’ll do my exercises and read a few trade magazines, hunting out the obscure poetry obligingly pigeonholed. I’ll read a few works by some unpublished friends who believe they understand the secret of poetry. As I look at the dandelion on my desk, all yellow and full of promise, I believe my friends actually might be right. Later, I’ll write humbly in the company of a dandelion because, you see, it’s April and National Poetry Month. And because, unlike my peers, I never really understood poetry. Until today.


Sherry Rentschler © 1999, previously published in the Amateur Poetry Journal, online

(and this will explain to you why I focus so much on the dandelion)

Cinderella Dandelion – Poetry

Let's have a poem!

Let’s have a poem!

I’m inspired to celebrate the dandelion farm that my front yard has become. I called it my “field of wishes.” And then I took a closer look.

Cinderella Dandelion

High yellow dress of golden sheen –

roughly silken –

unwelcome stepchild of the verdant green,

trampled, taken,

scorned on sight

until the gossamer turns

cotton white,

leaving roses rooted to the ground

as the dandelion dream –

wish sampled – takes flight

in a Cinderella nocturne

of a glass slipper song.

Happily ever after

if only for one day,

and maybe, for one night.

Cotton ball gown born out of fog.

SER © 17 June 2004

Dandelion Canvas painting by Ray Ferrer

Dandelion Canvas painting by Ray Ferrer


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