Inkwell Guest: Debbie Christiana on Writing and Yoga

Hey, all! I’m pleased to welcome another guest today. This time, Ms. Debbie Christiana. She’s here to talk about yoga and writing. Cool, huh? Stick around and be sure to post a comment. If you don’t see it post right away, it’s held in moderation and I promise to release it ASAP.

Welcome, Debbie!

Hi, Michelle. Thank you for having me as your guest today. I’m Debbie Christiana and I love to write about all things paranormal.

Writing is a solitary profession. It’s also a sedentary one. We sit happily, on a good day, or frustrated, on a bad day, in front of our computers. Then there’s comfort food. To either help us through a bad day or celebrate a good day. For most of us, the food of choice isn’t a fruit, vegetable, or something healthy made out of soy. It’s full of sugar, salt, fat and calories. That’s what makes is so comforting.

I’m at the age, when my metabolism isn’t as young and active as it once was. I used to run. I loved it. Once again, my mysterious age crept up on me and I tore something in my knee, had surgery and listened as the doctor kindly told me I was too old to run on hard surfaces. The jarring impact was too much.

That’s when she suggested yoga. My mother-in-law swore the yoga she practiced each morning with Jack LaLanne in front of the TV in the sixties kept her in shape. So, I decided to try it.

The yoga studio and I hit it off immediately. The room was beautifully decorated, warm, inviting, with a soft scent of incense and lovely music playing in the background. That was a beginner class six years ago and most of us newbies are still at it. While I can’t do what this wonderfully flexible woman can do, and don’t aspire to, I am much stronger and able to do many postures I used think impossible.

Yoga has been around for thousands of years. Archeologists discovered ancient stone tablets, believed to be over 4500 years old, with engravings of yoga postures in India’s Indus Valley. It was brought to the west in the late nineteenth century and became somewhat popular here in America in the 1960’s, thanks to the aforementioned Mr. LaLanne and other pop culture icons like the Beatles. Yoga is a Sanskrit word which means, “to bind together.” In our practice, we connect our mind, body and spirit.

We close our practice with Om. Yogis believe Om is the sound of life, or the vibration that flows through the universe. We then bow to each other and say “Namaste.” Namaste represents the belief that we each have spark of the divine –whichever divine you believe in – inside us. This gesture acknowledges the divine in all of us.

There are many benefits to yoga, emotional, physical and spiritual. What I come away with after an hour on my mat is how light and stress free I am. Stress has been around since humankind has existed, but chronic stress causes many health problems. I feel much better equipped to handle the worries of everyday life when I practice regularly.

Yoga works for me. It may not for you. But I hope everyone has something they can turn to for a couple hours a week, to relax, renew and rejuvenate.


Debbie’s novel, Twin Flames, was released by Black Opal Books and is available through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords and Black Opal Books.


Here’s a small excerpt from my novel when Marc, the hero, has an encounter with the ghost who lives with Natalia, the heroine.

“Natalia, are you in there?” Marc knocked on her door but there was no answer. He felt a cool breeze blow behind him and wondered what unexplained thing was going to happen next. When he looked down the stairs and saw the front door was wide open, he was relieved it really was a draft this time. He ran down the stairs, out the door to the front porch. He didn’t see Natalia or anyone. While he stood on the porch, the front door slammed shut behind him. As peculiar as it was, he couldn’t really say he was scared.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m out here. Now what?”

It felt like someone pushed him and he almost fell off the steps of the porch. He caught himself and sat down. Was he a skeptic when it came to the supernatural? He didn’t know what he believed about paranormal realm.

His head doctor was going to love this! He thought his biggest problem was getting his memory back. Could he be losing his mind as well? There was one way to find out.

He stood up. “This isn’t going to work. If you want me to go straight, touch the back of my head. If you want me to go left or right, touch my shoulder. There’s no need to push, all right? Is this about Natalia?”

Marc felt a tap on his head, so he walked straight back and up the hill through the grapevines. He reached a spot where he had to make a decision to go left or right, and felt a pat on his right shoulder. He walked down through more vines to the last row of grapes. There was nothing but woods.

“Now what?” He felt a tap on his head. “There’s no place to go.” Feeling a nudge forward, he walked into the woods. It was thick with hemlock trees and difficult to walk through. About a half mile into the woods, he saw an old shack and felt another pat on his head. He walked up to the door and knocked. When no came to the door, Marc turned to walk away but a cold blast of air in his face stopped him in his tracks.

“What? No one’s here.” He barely finished his sentence when a harder, colder gust of air came at him. “Why am I not surprised you and Natalia have the same temperament?” He knocked again.

“Look, there’s no one here. I knocked twice,” he said and suffered a good smack on the side of the head. “Ouch. All right, all right.” Marc turned the doorknob. The door opened and he went inside. Curled up in chair, he saw she had headphones on.

“Natalia,” he said loudly so she could hear him.

He watched her head pop up and stared at him, flabbergasted.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you since before we went to brunch.”

“How did you find me here?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s not an answer.”


She’d never met him before…or had she?

The last thing forty-year old Natalia Santagario expected was to be sitting on a Manhattan barstool ogling a man she’s never met, but swears she knows.

He didn’t know her at all…or did he?

The mysterious dark-haired woman at the end of the bar stops twenty-eight year old Marc Tremonti in his tracks. His head assures him she’s a stranger, but his heart tells him otherwise.

Together they embark on an adventure that will change their lives forever.

Their attraction instant and enigmatic, they undergo past life regression and discover that, not only have they spent hundreds of lives together as lovers, Natalia holds the secret to Marc’s puzzling birthmark.

But what should have been a joyful reunion is complicated by a kind, albeit confused, almost ex-wife, a bout of temporary amnesia and a mischievous ghost from their past.

What else could possibly go wrong?


Debbie Christiana would sit in her room as a little girl and write stories about ghosts, unexplained events and things that go bump in the night. She combined her love of the paranormal with her fascination of unusual love stories and decided to write paranormal romance. Her novel, Twin Flames, was released in the summer of 2011 with Black Opal Books. In February 2012, her short story, The Land of the Rising Sun, was one of ten included the anthology BITES: Ten Tales of Vampires. Debbie is a member of RWA and Secretary of the Romance Writers of Connecticut and Lower New York. She lives in Connecticut with her husband and three children.
Twitter @DebChristiana
Facebook Author Page: Debbie Christiana

By Michelle

I wish you all could be inside my head. The conversation is sparkling.