Tuesday, November 28, 2017

The Christmas Gate

"I was so fearful that I was unable to move from the edge of the bed."

Robert Robinson, a renown author from New York City, is traveling unwillingly through a snow storm on his way to a small farm in upstate New York owned by his editor. Robert's fame from the success of his books has changed him. His indulgence in big-city parties and being in the spotlight has allowed his arrogance to swell and for him to lose focus of his obligations. Now, being excessively late on the third book of a three book contract, he is given an ultimatum. He can either face legal action from his publisher or take one last chance to finish his book away from all the big-city distractions.

Patty has her own issues, dealing with the memories of her late husband. Always at the edge of depression, she somehow remains visibly strong and in control of her emotions, despite her internal turmoil. While Patty's father is away to be with a dying friend, she assumes the responsibility of caring for the old farm owned by the New York editor.

Robert is oblivious to Christmas and all that goes along with it. His parents loved Christmas, but he hadn't spoken with them in over eight years after their argument. Over the years, he has slowly disconnected from everything that reminded him of them. Christmas just became a day for a bigger party.

While at the old farm house, Robert discovers something that has been hidden there for possibly generations. What secrets lay just beyond an old screeching gate? Will the miracle of Christmas find its way to Robert? Find out in the story, "The Christmas Gate."

The Christmas Gate 2

“I became paralyzed with fear. Tears started to run down my cheeks as I sat motionless on the bed facing the locked door.”

Patty had slowly opened up to Bob. She thinks she might be falling in love with him. Even so, he has gone back to New York, and she has not heard from him in two weeks. It is another loss for her. First, her mother died when she was young, and then her husband, Matt, was killed in Afghanistan. She has lost all that were close to her. All but her dad and he is her rock. He is the one that gives her strength.

In, The Christmas Gate 2, Patty’s life becomes like a roller coaster, with the ups and the downs. She loses, and then wins, only to lose again. Then Patty is rocked with an emotional bombshell. She tries to gather herself together, then only another heartbreak again.

She resigns herself to wait at the old farm house until Bob returns to her. She unleashes what Bob had uncovered during his earlier stay, and she too is taken on a journey that will bring to the surface the things she has buried deep inside her, things that she has forgotten, things she refuses to confront, and things that could eventually set her free. Patty and Bob’s story continues in, The Christmas Gate 2.

Get the Christmas Gate books, and follow the story of Patty and Bob. A Christmas story with suspense and mystery. It is sure to warm your heart with happiness.  And lift up the true meaning of Christmas.

Barnes & Noble,  The Christmas Gate Books


Thursday, October 27, 2016

Our new book, The Christmas Gate, will be released this December 6th, in plenty of time for Christmas.

The Christmas Gate
by T. A. Cline

"I was so fearful that I was unable to move from the edge of the bed."

Robert Robinson is a renowned author of two best-selling mystery novels. As his prestige begins to affect his work ethics, he becomes detached from his writing obligations. Because of his failure to fulfill a three-book contract that was already long overdue, his editor gives him an ultimatum. He could either face legal action, or travel to the editor's farmhouse in upstate New York to complete a manuscript with no distractions. He arrogantly agrees to go after realizing that his options are limited, and makes a discovery in the old farmhouse that will change his life forever in the story of The Christmas Gate.


Saturday, August 8, 2015

Like The Night Hawk Who Soars Free

                                                    Thanks Philip For The Picture.

I read a posting on Facebook that had me reminiscing a bit. I remembered a piece I wrote many years ago, before my books were published. When I read it, I still wax super nostalgic. My minds fertile plains can instantly, and effortlessly carry me back to those wonderful days and nights. I hope you too can remember the good times.


Hello, it has been a bright and sunny day down on the farm. We just finished cutting hay, which is about six weeks late. Spring and summer have been interesting to say the least. Summer on the farm is a busy time, but it also is a special time.

Even when I was a kid, I remember the warm breezes that seemed to always have the scent of some flowers mingled with the smell of summer. I would take off my shoes the day-after school let out, and they didn't go back on unless there was a trip to town, relatives or church. I would have a pair of cut-off jeans, and that was my wardrobe for the summer. I was young enough that I just had a few chores to do. So I had plenty of time to play and explore the woods and fields of our farm that lay on the outskirts of a small town called Scroggsfield, in the state of Ohio. I would spend time playing in the crick and catch frogs and tadpoles by bunches. My dog and I were inseparable all through the summer, unless a trip to town, relatives or church. We would hunt squirrels and chipmunks and anything that got in the way. Sometimes the barn cats would be fair game until mom caught us and ended our safari. They were grand days and I always seem to remember the good things. I don't remember pain or fear or anxiety, none of the bad stuff, only the pleasing and fun things stick in my head. Like chasing lighting bugs at night and filling a jar with them, listening to a Whip-poor-will sound his beautiful call, or maybe listening also to the Bob-whites raising their voice above the din of crickets, frogs and the faithful night life that seemed to harmonize like a giant and grand symphony.

On good nights, I would sleep-out under the stars. I would lie on my back, with my dog at my side, and look up into the depths of the sky. The stars would seem so clear and close that you could reach up and touch them. I learned many of the constellations, and of course the Big Dipper was my favorite. Sometimes if you looked close, you would catch a glimpse of night birds in the air, and their silhouette caught against the star light. All in all, it was a perfect time. A time when a small boy was at peace with all around him, and the world was never a threat. There was no cares to weigh you down. It’s hard to put into words, but it was like you were just meant to be there.

I can't go bare footed anymore or run around half naked, but I still love laying out at night and looking up at the stars. They seem like old Friends and faithful companions luring me back to the days of my youth, but I can't go, no matter how much I would like to. I am bound by time and age, but it would be grand to feel the cool wet grass of the night between my toes one more time and soar like the night hawk whose earthly chains are eternally broke free.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Heroes, Then and Now

I made the statement that, even heroes’ need heroes. We all need to have someone to look up to. They should be someone whom we can reach up to, and emulate. They must have a standard that excites us and sets the goal post high.

In the past generations, the heroes were of a high moral code, virtuous, and had amazing courage. They often were biblical figures such as King David, King Solomon, and Samson. They made mistakes; however, they overcame these mistakes by turning to good and righteousness.

Many times, people looked up to the Judges, Senators and various politicians, and were in awe in their presence. These individuals were not perfect, but they tried to do their best. When they came to your community, it was one of the highest occasions and took prominence over everything else.

When war heroes came home, they were honored and given parades with accolades of praise. It was considered an exceptional honor to have a picture taken with these heroes, and to be associated with them, for they seemed larger than life. 

Many times it was one or both parents who sons and daughters looked up to as heroes. Sons tried to be like their fathers. Daughters tried to be like their mothers. Parents were hard working and set the standards of, truthfulness, keeping your word, respecting others, working diligently, and helping others who have needs. Where the golden rule of, love your neighbor as yourself, was taken very seriously, and passed down from generation to generation.

That was then, and what do we have for heroes now? A visit by many politicians causes one to hide their women, bury their valuables and stand guard at their house until they leave. You would sooner have a visit from Genghis Khan than certain politicians. Our younger people look to sports figures, musicians and actors for heroes; however, many leave much to be desired with a lack of virtue and moral code that has had the life drained out of it. It would seem we have lost the true meaning of virtue, honor, principles, courage, and a moral standard that breathes life into a pure heart.

Saturday, May 2, 2015


When I started to write the story Archomai, I set out to write a story that adults would enjoy and find entertaining with the complicated bunny trails that ran in and out of the main story. I also endeavored to make a story that was accessible to the young reader. By that I mean easy to read, and I tried to keep the simplicity of the main theme.

When I received the edited manuscript back from the publishing company, the editor wrote his comments and stated in part, “You have written here a hero.” He was referring to the main character Jeremiah. I must confess that I never gave it a thought of creating a hero when I wrote the book, Archomai, The Prince, The Scepter, And TheShield. I took the character of Jeremiah from a real person, and that person, like Jeremiah at the beginning of the book is confined. I know now in my heart that I considered this young man a hero and that is why, subconsciously, I created a hero in the main character Jeremiah. That is a good thing, because we all need to have heroes. Even heroes need to have heroes.

I think I would like to look into heroes a little deeper the next time.

Friday, April 24, 2015

Remembering Who Done What

For the excitement of the reader, a complicated story can help. As long as it stays consistent with the theme and the characters that are telling the story. There must be a foundation point that all can draw from, and as for me, the writer of the story a place to keep the events and happenings secure. I find that a map can keep everything in its place. A quote from J.R.R. Tolkien, “If you’re going to have a complicated story, you must work to a map; otherwise you can never make a map of it afterwards.” Working with a map helps me to remember events and happenings by seeing where they happened. I visualize the setting and the surroundings of the event with my characters. I know intimately the path each character has taken through the story. I often refresh my memories by studying the map and walking each character through his part. 

Check out the map of the kingdom of Archomai.   Map link

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Archomai Characters

I have set a goal of finishing the Archomai trilogy in two years. I have a good start on Archomai II. However, I found that writing a sequel is a lot harder than writing the first in the series. In the first book, I could let my mind go and chase bunny rabbits where ever they went. In the sequel, I must remember all the bunny trails and what color the bunny was at the time of the chase. What I have found is that I must live in the world of Archomai. By that I mean in my imagination I am there. I see the characters, and I see the landscape. I feel the characters pain, their joy, their heartache, and their victories. Once the characters become intimate friends with me, even the bad ones, then I remember them in detail and take joy in writing more about them. But when the series ends, then I must say good-bye and that will not be easy.

Next time tying events and happenings to the characters.