Catch a Dream: why pre-sales are helpful and why I wrote the book

Catch a Dream is in pre-sales on Amazon!

This is what I learned: that if people pre-order a book, once it is released, it is stocked and can be mailed out immediately. (How often have I ordered a book as a gift for my mom and she got it the next day?) If there are not enough pre-sales to indicate that the book will sell well, it has to be ordered as a pod. I guess we no longer want to wait for things and sooner is better ..also, this will impact whether my book shows up on suggested books to read. 

Pre-orders for the ebook will be downloaded on your Kindle device on March 24 and pre-ordered paperbooks will be mailed out April 9.

To tell you the truth, I am scared to death to read my reviews. I didn't write Catch a Dream in a traditional way. It doesn't have a plot with cliff hangers unless you really are invested in Lily's desire to stay in Israel. There is a lot of description because it is a love story with the land as well as the people who live within its borders. It is a critique of the constant violence without exploring the complicated political history. It is told from the perspective of a woman who suffers from PDST and longs to be set free to love, to belong, and for all to live in peace. An idealistic dream honed by heart-break and healing as she learns to stand up for herself at last. 

I am happy to discuss my writing process with you during a personal visit to your book club or writer's group or via Skype but I am not an expert on Israel or Israeli-Palestinian political affairs. I am an expert on the beauty of the Mediterranean Sea and how it changed my menstrual cycle, the night I spent in a Jerusalem jail, and the birthday cake that caught on fire using re-ignitable candles. On fruits and vegetables so fresh and ripe, that when I returned to the states I could hardly bear to eat a tomato or peach due to the lack of flavor. Or the way the stores stopped selling bread, cakes and cookies, and cordoned off any products considered treif, that is containing yeast or having the potential for rising, (including some imports that surprised me) during Passover. My downstairs neighbor scolded me for throwing out a crust during Passover (obviously digging in my garbage to check on me) but someone finally told me the secret was to stock up on pita and put it in your freezer: "Everyone does it," she explained. 

I miss the way the Israeli families hung out together to enjoy a concert or the beach. I miss the beach. I miss the quiet during Shabbat and the sounds of the Muezzin at dawn. 

If you have ever dreamed of going to Israel, my book will give you a glimpse of a complex society and whet your appetite to see it for yourself. 

Here's the link to my author page if you are inclined to help me with a pre-order: http://amzn.to/2Gq3QND

A woman’s healing journey begins in a country embroiled in relentless turmoil.

In Israel, Palestinian frustration for a homeland erupts in strikes, demonstrations and suicide bombings and Israel responds with tear gas, arrests, and house demolitions. Lily Ambrosia and Rainbow Dove arrive in Haifa with their children on a pilgrimage. Lily falls in love with the land , with its people, and with Levi, dangerous but irresistible. Eventually she is fully immersed in Israeli life. Her son rebels against the lifestyle she has chosen and war with Syria looms on the horizon. Will she be able to stay? What does she have to give up and what will she be able to keep?

Catching a Dream excerpt

And so, the rabbis say, God saw this, the great devotion of the two brothers…and He chose this spot as the place for His Holy City, a place where brothers honored each other.

            But I say it is the clarity of the air that reveals the souls of men to their Maker, the sun washing the stones in subtle shades of gold so you feel the presence of celestial beings, the undulating hills that surround a natural fortress whose duty is to protect and comfort. It is a searing clarity reflected in the eyes of her people, brown, blue, green, grey, from all over the world, brown-skinned or pale, with crosses, magen davids, crescents, chains, sighs, screams, whispers, prayers. She is a mystery: she wipes your weary brow with a kiss, she throws you to the ground with a knife at your throat.

            Our driver speaks not a word of English but unerringly escorts us straight to the Kotel, known as the Wailing Wall historically and now called the Western Wall. My heart is wrenched by the sight of a string of jeeps, bus-loads of soldiers, the air thick with tension, the wariness on the guards’ faces as they inspect our bags before we may cross the large plaza in front of the wall.

            Wailing Wall. Symbol of Israel’s past glory. The temple once stood here, where God hovered close to man, where the sweet smell of incense and burnt flesh mingled with the ointments of a million men and women who came thrice yearly to celebrate the festivals dictated by the Torah given to Moses. The niches and cracks in her stony façade are filled with miniscule scraps of paper, folded and refolded so they can be inserted into the narrow slits between the stones, prayers said to reach the ears of the Almighty more quickly.

            Four women stand somberly in front of the wall, wrapped in layers against the evening chill, one with her forehead pressed against the stones, wrapped in private prayer. The smaller woman’s side is divided from the men’s by a man-made metal wall. The men’s side is full of activity as men and boys approach the stones to pray, some in the long coats and fur hats of the Hasidim, others obviously tourists. The golden dome above glistens, ready to erupt with hate for the enemy below, the soldiers pace back and forth uneasily with their guns slung over their shoulders. We can feel the tension as palpable as the chill descending as the sun sinks. The wind whips across the square and we spend only a few minutes by the wall before we are ready to find shelter for the night.

            We walk through the Old City, our nerves on fire, and yet, awed, amazed at her narrow, twisting streets, the bustle, the smell of cardamom and cinnamon, the gleam of gates leading to ancient sites. Our feet are walking within her gates! The same stones, here a series of huge and ancient stone blocks dating from the time of the Romans, where the feet of the holy ones, the prophets and saints walked. The pilgrims down through the centuries. The kings of the earth rattled through these arches in their chariots, where now horns blare as modern machines try to navigate between pedestrians and donkeys.  

(c) Wendy Brown-Baez Catch a Dream 2018