Mandy Botlik's Blog, page 3

Ripples in the Milkyway

I have a novella up for sale on Amazon now. It’s called Ripples in the Milkyway. It is meant as a young adult novella but my mother read it and enjoyed it so adults may like it too. Here is the synopsis from the back: A stone carved woman found in the woods brings worlds clashing together on small farm in rural Missouri. The past and present collide as Arnold begins to see spirits that have been tied to the land for centuries. “Soon you will journey with me.”The spirit tells Arnold.The stone carved woman keeps returning to him though he returns it to its mound. Halloween is nearly upon them,and so is the journey.Where will it lead?What will it change?Inspired by stories told by my grandfather and my mother. Fiction is interlaced with truth in this supernatural tale tinged by the complicated history of the land.

Here is the short story that was derived from the first chapter of this book. It was included in my short story collection Apparitions on Paper, also available on Amazon. Hope you enjoy.

Mounds in the Woods.

This story is an excerpt from a novella I’m working on. It is based largely on stories my grandpa told about his childhood. It has been fictionalized. I use the term Indian in this story to mean Native Americans or Indigenous people because that was what my grandpa called them.

            Thwack, the rock struck the side of the weathered barn and dropped to the autumn-dry grass with a gentle thud. Arnold peered around the barn door. The crisp breeze carried the sound of Bernard laughing behind the wood pile. Picking up his rock he took aim. The rock skittered off the top of the wood and hit a tree. “Missed me,” Bernard shouted. Arnold ducked behind the door as Bernard’s head appeared from behind the wood pile. The rock sailed through the air and thumped along the barn floor. Arnold reached for a rock.

            “Boys!” A woman in a calico dress and stained apron rounded the barn and spotted Arnold in the doorway, rock in hand. Folding her arms, she gave him the look.  Oh, I’m in for it, Arnold dropped the rock and brushed his dirty hands on his jeans.

            “It’s your turn,” Bernard shouted, “or are you—”

            “Bernard Oscar Blitzer! You get over here this instant, ya hear.”

            Bernard’s gasp was audible as he jumped up.

            Arnold and Bernard stood side by side avoiding their mother’s glare. “How’d you know,” asked Bernard.

            “Never you mind that. Just what do you think you were doing? You gonna hurt yourselves or break something. Besides it’s dinner time, your Pa will be home soon to deal with you boys. Now go an’ wash up. You’re filthy.”

            Both boys ran to the water pump to wash. “I bet it was Adela that told on us.” Arnold nodded in agreement and shivered as the icy pump water washed over his hands.

            “You think Pa will bring us anything neat from the mine today?”

            “I doubt it. If Ma tells him, we were rock fightin’ again he won’t give it to us anyways. Let’s go set the table, and maybe she’ll forget to tell him.” The two boys went sprinting into the house almost falling over a small dark-haired girl in overalls. “Watch it,” barked Adela.

            “You watch it. You’re the one standing in the door,” said Arnold.

            Adela stuck her tongue out at Arnold. “Mama says you been fightin’ again.”

            “We ain’t fightin’, just playin’.”

            “Yeah playin’ rock fight.”

            “You told on us, didn’t you?” said Bernard as he grabbed a stack of plates.

            “I ain’t said nothin’,” Adela shot back, “Sides I didn’t know where yuns were anyhow.”

            “Fine,” said Bernard. Their mother’s step sounded in the hall and Arnold hurried to get the silverware. If we get the table set and we don’t cause more trouble, Ma probably won’t tell Pa we were rock fightin’ again. Arnold and Bernard were putting glasses on the table as their mother rounded the corner.  Her gaze took in the room and she ran a hand through her soft brown hair.

            “Adela stir the beans please.” The little brunette head bobbed over to the stove. Her stool screeched on the floor as she scooted it. The kitchen filled with the aroma of sweet potato pie as Ma opened the oven. Arnold breathed deeply the sweet spice so that he could almost taste it, his mouth watered.

            The clomp of boots sounded on the steps out front. The boys hurried with the last cups. “Can we get you anything else Ma?” Bernard asked as Arnold poured sweet tea, so sweet it almost made your teeth hurt, into the glasses from the brown pitcher.

            “Am I gonna catch you boys with rocks in hand tomorrow?” The front door banged open and they knew their time was short.

            “No ma’am,” They answered in unison.

            “I better not.” She said her tone stern while her eyes still seemed to smile.

            “Tillie!” exclaimed Pa as he entered the room. Tillie’s stern face melted into the radiant smile that had gleamed in her eyes as he crossed the kitchen and kissed her. “Oh Red,” she said playfully hitting him away, “I need to check the chicken.” She hurried to the stove patting her hair into place as she went.

            Red smiled, glancing around the kitchen he noted the boy’s expressions and shook his head. “You two look like the cat that ate the mouse and drank the cream from the table.”

            Arnold shoved his hands in his pockets and stared intently at the knothole in the wood floor. “It wasn’t nothin’,” said Tillie as she sat a steaming roast chicken on the table. “Just our boys doin’ what they do. As long as it don’t happen again there needn’t be trouble.”

            Red nodded his dark head, the dust from the mine still coating his skin. “Alright then if you say so. I’m gonna wash up. It smells a treat, Tillie.” Arnold watched Pa walk out the back door to the water pump.

            “Sit,” said Ma. “He’ll be in soon enough. Won’t be any faster for you watchin’.” Arnold moved to his chair still staring at the door as Tillie filled everyone’s plates.

            “Does he have anything for us,” Adela asked bouncing in her seat.

            Tillie smiled, “I saw his pockets hun. He brought something with him tonight.”

            Arnold looked at Bernard and saw his own excitement reflected in Bernard’s face. Adela echoed their thoughts shouting, “Oh boy!” and clapping in her chair as she bounced even more. Red walked in and sat a rock by each child’s plate. Rocks with quartz veins and a large sparkly geode gleamed back at them from the aged linen tablecloth. Arnold’s eyes took in the mystery of those glittering rocks. How were they made? He liked to imagine volcanos when dinosaurs roamed the earth and massive earthquakes that might have made such pretty rocks.

            “Children let’s say grace.” They crossed themselves and folded their hands repeating the prayer in unison. “Bless us oh Lord for these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen.” They crossed themselves once more and silverware clattered against plates.

As they ate Arnold hoped Pa would tell about finding the rocks. Maybe there was a huge dinosaur fossil with it, probably not though. That would be the talk of the town if it that happened. People found arrow heads and pieces of pots, old ones that the Indians made, but never dinosaurs.

            “I ain’t going to work tomorrow,” Red announced.

            Arnold looked up in shock. It was hard times for everyone. They did alright but Pa would never not go to work. The farm didn’t make enough by itself.

            “Why’s that? Tillie asked concern edging her voice.

            “We were drilling today, and we hit sand and then water. I know the land here Tillie. That, there was too much water. There won’t be a mine to go to tomorrow. Just an underground lake.”

            “You tell the foreman?” Tillie asked.

            “Yeah, he said they’d check it in the morning real careful before they did anything.”

            “He’s a fool,” said Tillie her lips pressed into a tight line. “If he knew anything, he’d listen to you.”

            “Yeah well, several of the boys said they’d not be back tomorrow if I say it ain’t safe,” Tillie nodded. “hope no one gets hurt is all.” The clink of silverware at the table was the only noise for a bit as Pa’s announcement settled in on everyone.

            “Pa?” asked Bernard.

            “Yes son?” Red looked up giving him his full attention. He was like that with his kids, they always got his full attention, not like some dads around.

            “How do you know so much about the land?” Bernard stuffed a chunk of chicken in his mouth.

            “You work around it long enough you learn a thing or two. After a while, it kind of speaks to you. In the mines, I can read what the drill spits out like a book, tell you what it means. If we’re gonna hit water, air, or the lead and zinc we’re after.”

            Arnold watched him talk. There was always a glimmer in Pa’s eye when he talked about this, something that reminded him of the mischievous boy Pa once was.

            “Will we ever be able to do that?” Adela asked.

            “Probably if you pay attention to what’s around you.” Pa winked at the kids and smiled.

            After dinner, Arnold wandered outside lose dirt sliding under his feet from the freshly ploughed field. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he searched for arrowheads among the turned soil in the dim evening light. Boots crunched softly nearby. Pa stood next to him looking towards the sunset, that was more orange than anything else tonight. Arnold squatted and brushed the dirt off a perfect arrowhead. “Ah you found one,” said Pa squatting beside him. Arnold handed it to his Pa who turned it over in his hands. “Not an arrow this one, it’s a knife or a spearpoint. Too big to be an arrow.” He handed it back to Arnold.  He ran his hands over the still sharp edges of the spear point. It was as long as the palm of his hand, and almost as wide at the base.

A chain rattled, and the sun glinted off Pa’s metal pocket watch. I still remember the story of how he got it, Arnold smiled. Another kid in school dared him to walk to the front of the school room on top of the desks while the teacher was writing on the board. If he did it the kid said he’d give him his watch. So, Pa stepped across every desk to the front of the room while the teacher’s back was turned. When the teacher turned round there was Pa standing at the front of the room. “Do you have a question Red?” the teacher asked. Pa just shook his head no, and teacher said, “Well then go find your seat.” I’d never be brave enough to do that.

Arnold pocketed the spearpoint and stood. All I’ve ever done is dip the girl’s braids in my inkwell. I suppose I put a tack on the teacher’s chair once, that was pretty funny. Of course, teacher knew it was me, I laughed so hard. “Arnold Blitzer!” she shouted. “You come get this tack.” Boy, was it funny though when she jumped. It was worth it. Then there was the time some of the other boys put a snake in her desk. Arnold chuckled to himself.

“Something funny?” Pa asked.

“No, just thinkin’ about the time someone put a snake in the teacher’s desk.”

            Pa smiled and nodded. “I remember those days. Always fun to play a little prank on the teacher. I’m sure she’s used to it by now and knows who to expect it from.”

“Ain’t that the truth, she always assumes it’s me and Bernard but half the time it’s the other boys.”

Pa chuckled, “Half the time huh? I’ll bet you had a hand in the idea at least. I know you boys ornery as the day is long, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just you mind you don’t cause the poor teacher too many gray hairs.”

Arnold grinned and said, “yes sir.” Touching the spear point in his pocket he pictured Indians hunting in their woods around the farm. “Pa what happened to all the Indians that used to live here?”

Pa’s smile faded, “Well it ain’t a happy story. White folk moved out this way and started building farms and towns. Some got on alright with the Indians most didn’t. There were fights started, homes burned, people killed. Some Indians caught our illnesses and died. The government rounded up those that were left and marched them off to reservations in Oklahoma where they live now. Government still ain’t too nice to em’ and it was us white folk that took their land.”

“Not us Pa, your great grandad wasn’t here then.” Arnold kicked a clod of dirt. “You’re right our family wasn’t here, but other’s like us were.” The wind rustled the branches Arnold could feel the guilt hanging in the air, not his guilt or his fathers but still a wrong had been done and he felt it. “Did they have cities like ours or bigger, the Indians?”

“Like ours maybe, but not big ones, at least, not by the time white folks came. I’m headed in now,” Pa turned and slipped the pocket watch into his pants pocket. “Don’t stay out past dark.” His boots crunched softly as Arnold listened to him leave.

Arnold held the spearhead like a knife as he slunk into the woods pretending, he was stalking animals. He walked as quietly as he could crouching and creeping through the undergrowth. When he reached the part of the woods where the undergrowth thinned, he stood up. In the waning light he could just make out the shapes of the low mounds that covered this part of the woods. He felt he should do something to honor the dead.

Pa says, they’re probably, burial mounds of important people, great chiefs or spiritual leaders. Arnold walked slowly around the base of each mound. His foot struck something hard in a mass of soil. The rushing water from yesterday’s rain had washed away dirt from the base of the mound. Shining in the sludge was a stone. Arnold picked it up and brushed away the mud. A stone carving of woman holding corn looked back at him. He turned it over in his hands taking in the detail of the smooth figure.

The collector in him wanted to take it home and put it on his dresser. But it felt wrong. This wasn’t some spearpoint or arrowhead lost in a hunt or battle. This was a statue in a grave. A goddess perhaps or a totem. Arnold knelt in the damp moss and mud. He used the spearpoint to dig out a part of the mound and carefully placed the statue in the hole. He pressed the soil down firmly filling the hole hoping it would stay covered. “I don’t know who you are,” he whispered. “But you’re back where you belong.”

Coyotes began their discordant night song, yipping and howling in the distance. Arnold suddenly realized how dark it had become and wiped his hands on the moss. Standing, he cast one glance back over the mounds in the dim forest. It was too dark to make them out, but he knew they were there. “I wonder who you were. You weren’t the people who lived here before the white people. They didn’t build mounds. Someone much older, perhaps.” Arnold shook his head at the mystery and turned for home.

He reached the porch and clomped up the steps. “Don’t you go getting’ mud all over my house Arnold Boyden Blitzer,” Said Ma through the screen door.  Arnold looked at his pants and his shoes covered in mud. “Yes ma’am,” he said. Going to the well pump he washed the muck off his boots and hands. His pants looked hopeless, but he brushed as much of the filth off them as he could before going back to the house.

The screen door banged shut behind him as he went in the side door. Warm light filtered down the hallway from the living room. He stripped to his underwear in the hall, tossed his clothes on the wash pile and went to get his pjs from his room. The drawer shushed open, and he slid into his flannel pjs. Shutting the drawer, he sat his spearpoint on top of his dresser with his collection of rocks from the mine, arrowheads, neat leaves, sticks, and cicada shells that had collected on his dresser over the years. Ma thought it a mess but never threw it out. She often complained of it but never told him to get rid of it. Arnold hesitated in the bedroom doorway looking back at his dresser in the moonlight. A moment passed before he went back for his spearpoint, slipping it in the pocket of his flannel pants.

“We thought you’d been eaten by coyotes,” said Adela as Arnold came in the living room. She sounded disappointed that he hadn’t been eaten more than concerned. Arnold sat down next to Bernard. The radio was on chattering some war drama in the background. Adela played with her dolls by the fire and Bernard was closely examining his geode that their father had brought home. Pa stared off towards the fire as he listened to the radio. Ma’s chair creaked as she rocked back and forth her hands busy darning socks.

Arnold leaned his back against the wall and the warmth of the fire washed over him, it’s flickering light playing over the family scene. The gentle drone of the radio and the creak of Ma’s chair lulled him into a light doze. The fire seemed to roar in his ears just before sleep took him.

It was dark and a mist hung in the air as he walked, structures towered before him. Part of him felt this was familiar. The rest of him was sure he’d never been here. The dark structures loomed over him like trees in the forest at night only taller. There was the gentle sound of water lapping, and the louder sound of a great river in the distance. Crickets chirped and frogs sang, he kept walking until he reached one of the looming structures. It’s a mound, he realized. There are buildings on top of them! The mound he stood before wasn’t finished yet. Arnold climbed the mound and peered over the edge. Lined up in neat rows he saw bodies, some had bludgeoned heads, others bruised throats.

Arnold struggled to process what he was seeing. He jumped, turning, as someone shouted from behind him. Before him stood a tall man, face marked with tattoos. His raven hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of his neck revealing large stone spools in the lobes of his ears. He wore only a woven dyed skirt and a shell on a cord, with intricate designs in the shells hollow, that rested on his breastbone.

He spoke but Arnold couldn’t understand. He scrambled down the mound. The Indian followed still speaking. He seemed angry. They reached the bottom of the mound and suddenly it didn’t matter what the man was saying. A wall of water was parting the mist and rushing towards them. Arnold pointed and shouted “Run!” only his lips didn’t form a word he’d ever heard before. The man ran all the same, grabbing Arnold by the arm and dragging him along.

“Hey,” Arnold woke with Pa shaking him. “Time for bed son.”

Arnold stretched and stood. “I had a strange dream about Indians and a flood.”

Pa shrugged, “well I told you about the mine troubles and you found the spearpoint then you spent a while playin’ in the woods. Don’t let it bother you. It’s just a dream”

Arnold nodded and headed for bed, but the dream stayed with him. I was too strange to forget how he had spoken words he didn’t know and what he had seen when he looked into the mound.

It was hours before Arnold fell into a heavy dreamless sleep. Thunder crashed outside. Arnold bolted upright and looked around his dark room. It wasn’t the thunder that had awakened him. What was it? He walked over to his bedroom window. Lightning lit the room for a moment, and he saw the rain falling in sheets outside. He pictured the long walk to school tomorrow in through the soggy fields. He sighed, not looking forward to the mud dragging his boots down the whole way.

Lightning flashed again and he jumped. A woman stood beneath the trees in the pouring rain. She looked him in the eyes like she could see him. Arnold stepped back and she held up her hand palm out to stay him, Arnold froze. She smiled and motioned for him to come. He starred into the night as she vanished in another flash of lightning.

Sagging onto the edge of his bed, shaking all over he tried to process what he had just seen. It wasn’t someone I recognized. He thought through everyone he knew, but he’d never seen her before. Maybe she didn’t just disappear. The lightning just blinded me for a moment, and she went back into the trees. He closed his eyes, but he could still see her clearly. Slick wet black hair wearing a skirt just above the knee and a shawl that looked like it was covered in feathers. Beads peaked out from the part in the shawl, and the patterns on the skirt were like the man’s in his dream… An Indian. But there weren’t Indians here anymore. They all lived in Oklahoma on the reservations.

Arnold opened his eyes and walked back toward the window with careful steps. The rain was letting up some now and the wind had died down a bit but there was no one there. “Just your imaginations,” He whispered to himself. Arnold lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes, but he didn’t sleep. He just lay there and tried to think of anything else. Still the image of the woman kept coming back to him.

It was near midnight when he threw off his blankets and got dressed. He pocketed the spearpoint for good luck and crept into the living room. The house was silent save for the creaking of boards under his feet and the crackling of the dying fire. He lit a lantern, and gently shut the front door behind him.

The cool autumn breeze whipped around the house. Arnold was glad he had remembered his coat. As he approached the tree line his hands shook. The lantern light danced wildly as he held it out shining it on the spot where the woman had been. The prints of her bare feet were outlined in the mud, water filling the hollows. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and glanced into the trees. No woman waited just out of reach. All that waited was the lonely dark woods, with the branches rustling in the wind.

Arnold knelt and put his fingers in the footprint tracing it as though it could explain the mystery or perhaps it would vanish at his touch. He sat the lantern down. Something shiny and wet glinted in the light just under a bush near the footprint.  Arnold picked it up, expecting a wet pebble or a leaf that caught the light just right. He had to remind himself to breathe. He looked at the stone figure, he had buried only hours ago deep in the woods. His hands shook as he picked it up, fingers smoothing over the intricate carvings of the slick wet surface. It was the same one in every line. Drums beat as though from within him or perhaps it was simply his heart pounding. He dropped the stone as the drumming grew louder. Drawing in a deep breath to calm himself, he whispered, “It’s just your heart pounding because you’re scared, nothing more.” His heart slowed and he reached for the stone once more. His hand closed round it and he held his breath. Only the wind and the rain pattering on the trees made any sound. “I’ll put you back in your mound tomorrow,” he told the figure.

Standing, he ran back to the house. He paused at the side door to pull off his boots. Once inside, he tossed his muddy pjs in the wash pile and crept through the house returning the lantern to its place and sneaking back to bed. He lay awake most of the night listening to the rain and the crash of thunder with his hand wrapped protectively around the stone woman. Near dawn he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

The woman in the feathered shawl led him deep into a part of the wood he’d never seen before. Her mouth formed words strange to him. It was a little like when Pa rattled off a German phrase his grandma used to say. Only when Pa spoke Arnold didn’t know what the words meant, but when the woman spoke, he did know, not the words but the meaning.

“Soon you will journey with me.”

He followed her deeper into the woods, the trees made it dim. She stopped and turned to face him. She was unlike any woman he had ever seen before. Dark hair pulled back and secured with a carved hair pin; skin darker than a July tan, her woven skirt dyed with reds and yellows. He blushed noting the beads were all she wore beneath her feathered shawl. Stars seemed to hover within her brown eyes. He wanted to go with her on this journey now. “When?” he asked.

“Soon,” she replied. “Go back and wake now.”

Arnold felt a rush of wind, the forest vanished and with it the woman. Opening his eyes, he found himself in his bed. The first rays of light were coming in through the curtains. Arnold lay still, trying to remember where he was going in the dream, or if he even knew.

The stone woman was warm in his hand. He looked at it, remembering his trip to the tree line, and the Indian woman who had appeared. They’re the same, he thought, the one in my dream and the one I saw. “Are you a ghost?” he asked the statue. The stone woman didn’t respond. Outside he heard the mournful hoot of an owl returning late from its nightly hunt. Then the drums began again beating in rhythm to his heart, muffled by distance. Arnold folded his fingers around the stone figure pressing it to his heart. I’ve upset a haint, he thought, his mouth going dry and his breath quivering.

New Projects

I’ve been working hard on Halloween decorations, editing a novella, and illustrating for another children’s book. Since the Pandemic my niece and nephew won’t be able to trick or treat like normal. My nephew has breathing problems and it’s not worth the risk for him. So, his grandparents and myself are making a spooky trail on our small farm. We’re setting up candy collection spots and decorations. The constant rain this week has meant a lot of preparation has happened but nothing can be set up outside yet. So Friday will start the mad dash to get it all ready. Below are some bottles I made for our witches cabin on the trail.

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The novella is something I’ve been working on for only a couple of years. It’s inspired by stories my grandpa told as well as stories from my great grandpa and my mom. I really hope people like it. This project has been very persona for me and my mom. It takes place in a rural community during the Great Depression. A boy finds a Native American artifact among the mounds, in the woods behind his his home. In doing so, he wakes a spirit and touches of a series of events that intertwine the past, present and future in a way that will alter him forever. I am currently in the process of editing it with my beta reader’s help.

The illustration project I am working on will be my mom’s second children’s book. I don’t know the title yet but it focuses on a little girl feeding the birds in the winter. It shows all the different birds that frequent the feeder. The little girl watches until she becomes bored, but the birds keep coming. The purpose of the book is to teach children to identify different types of birds in a fun and engaging way. Below are a few of the illustrations so far. They were taken with my cell phone so the image quality is not what i will be when the book is complete.

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In other news my women in history coloring book project continues. I am in the process of getting permissions for the photos I worked from. It’s a long and complicated process. I’ve received mostly positive responses, but there are a few illustrations I will have to replace with another person or completely redo. If anyone reading this has a suggestion of a women in history to include please comment either on this post or on my Facebook post. I’m really excited about this project but also nervous since the citations need to be perfect. So fingers crossed all goes well.

Apparitions on Paper

Happy Halloween, well soon anyway. My collection of short stories is now up for sale on Amazon. I’ve posted a couple of those short stories on my blog like Secrets of the Sea: https://mbotlikauthorartist.wordpress.com/2020/08/14/secrets-of-the-sea/ .

The collection contains 11 short stories and one flash fiction. Very apt for the season, some of the short stories feature ghost. At least one of the ghost stories is a true story from my previous job. 5 of the stories are fantasy or science fiction while the others are set in the real world, only a couple of those venture into magical realism. So if fantasy isn’t your thing there’s something in this collection for you, and if it is your thing there are stories you’ll enjoy in here too. The book is 154 pages long below is the synopsis. The paperback is $8.00 and the ebook is $3.50.

Apparitions on Paper: Short Stories By: Mandy Botlik

Mobsters enter candy shops, changing lives for the better. A boy disturbs a Native American burial mound. A girl seeks out a folk healer for her cat. Dragons are slain, and kingdoms are freed. The common place sits alongside the fantastical in this collection of short stories and flash fiction.

Coloring Book Vol. 2

My second volume of the Creatures of the Earth Coloring Book is approved and up on Amazon! I made this as a Christmas present for my nephew. In the second half all the animals depicted are endangered or threatened species. With my nephew we look up facts about the animals as he works his way through the book, using it as supplemental science learning. He does love animals so this is great. If this sounds like something you or a young person in your life would enjoy head over to Amazon and have a look.

My Coloring Book

Exciting news, my Creatures of the Earth Coloring Book is for sale on Amazon now! It will be followed by a second volume when I get that ready. It has illustrations of endangered and threatened species as well as other creatures. I made this as a Christmas present for my nephew. It turned out so nice that I wanted to share it with others. I hope you all like it. It is only available in print, didn’t seem to be much point in offering a coloring book on kindle since you can’t color it there.

Aflame

This is a poem I wrote in 2010.

Aflame

A riot of color

fluttering on the breeze,

rustling beneath out feet,

setting the air ablaze.

Like the autumn leaves

hand in hand

we alight on the breeze

setting out future ablaze,

a myriad of color,

glimmering and glinting

with promise.

-Mandy Botlik

Haiku: Moon

This is a haiku I wrote about the moon. I love looking up at the moon, watching how it changes through it’s cycle. I love it as a symbol and a light in the dark.

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Haiku: Wind

This is a haiku from my high school days titled Wind. Hope you enjoy. The photo is from my vacation to North Shore Minnesota last year.

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Shadows of Memories Released!

After a great deal of struggle with Amazon kdp, my book is up for sale. I won’t say it was easy to figure out all the formatting, for print or the ebook. It took me 3 days of pretty much all day uploading and previewing, followed by troubleshooting, researching, and file formatting. So, this is a relief as well as exciting. The synopsis is under the books tab. If you read my book please drop me a review on Amazon, be kind it’s my first published work. Thanks to all who buy it, read it, share it, or interact with this blog.

Ups and downs of this week

This has been a complicated week. I started out full of motivation ready to write and draw and in general just make art. It was going well. I was really happy with how my facebook author page was starting to look like it had been in use for a while. Then I got frozen on Istagram. I started trying to figure out why, this took several days. In the process I notice facebook took down several my posts about my latest blogs. I’m still unsure how to let people know about new blogs without spamming. That is what they decided I had done, spammed. So, that brought me down a bit.

I went today to check on my copyright application for my novel and it says: case status, closed. I click on the case number for more info and nothing. So then I search records. Ta dah! My copyright is on file. So, I think that means it’s copyrighted. I emailed for confirmation since I’m new to all this. Then I sent a few more email to other places, legal questions i need answered before I publish. I think it will be a week maybe a little more and I can publish! I’m super excited and hope I’m not getting worked up for nothing. Fingers crossed that I don’t have another deflating down turn to the week.