Dixie Dawn Miller Goode's Blog, page 13

And I Have a Winner!

 We Have a Winner!

And She is another Author on the Blog Adventure.

I had four comments and wrote the numbers one through four o post it notes and had my husband draw one and he pulled out #3.  So Karen Elliot wins a paperback set of Duffy Barkley's two novels.  I hope that you enjoy them Karen.






 Karen S. Elliott's blog http://www.karenselliott.wordpress.com



And I hope everyone Enjoyed the Trick Or Treat Blog Adventure
Have a Great November
And If you are in NaNoWriMo and trying to write a Novel in NovemberWrite ON!

Tricks and Treats at Trick or Treat Blog Adventure

Logo Designed by Tammie Clarke Gibbs
Blog adventure put together by JLB Creatives
 Here are the simple rules:


Listed below are several blogs by authors 
covering a wide range of genres.


Bookmark mine orJLB Creatives Blog at http://www.jlbcreatives.blogspot.com/so you can
return to grab new blogs to Trick or Treat to.


Trick or Treat to as many of the 
blogs as you'd like between Oct. 28-31, 2011.


The authors/bloggers have devised contests for you to enter to win their special prizes.

Simply follow the rules:
1) Become a follower of the author's blog.
 2) Each blog host has devised their 
own unique contest,
3) Follow their rules and you'll be entered!


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Author's and their blogs are listed in no certain order.
Please excuse the wacky spacing and random 
"highlighting" effect - technology...gotta love it!

Listings include the following: 1) Author Name 2) Blog Name 3) Blog Address 4) Contest Instructions 5) Prize(s) Offered
~   ~   ~


1) Karen S. Elliott (Contest on 10/31 only)2) Karen S. Elliott's blog3) http://www.karenselliott.wordpress.com4) Leave a comment on Karen's blog on 10/31 and be automatically entered to win a free 3,000 word proofread, edit, and critique.5) One free 3,000 word proofread, edit, and critique.















1)Tammie Clarke Gibbs2)Daydreaming with Author Tammie Clarke Gibbs3) http://authortammieclarkegibbs.blogspot.com/ 4) 5)Follow Tammie's Blog and Leave a comment  letting her know you're following 10/31/11  and be automatically entered to win one of 5 Free ISLAND OF SECRET ebooks.  Everyone who comments and signs up for her Newsletter on her website http://www.tammieclarkegibbs.com will receive a free surprise gift.





1) Lorane Leavy (Contest may only be available 10/31)
2) Last Seen Wearing Thin3) http://loraneleavy.blogspot.com/4) Follow Lorane's blog and leave a comment 10/31/115) One free color collage, 5x7, of L's fav Trick-or-Treaters




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1) Kimberly LaRocca
2) Kimberly's Page3) http://klarocca2010.wordpress.com/4) Follow the blog and leave a comment on any poem on 10/31/11 along with the words "trick or treat" 5) Five lucky winners will receive a signed copy of the book.


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1) Betty Dravis (Contest may only be 10/31)2) Dames of Dialogue3) http://tinyurl.com/3njrc9u4) Leave a comment at bottom of blog to enter the Trick or Treat drawing - no profanity, vulgarity, etc. Posts containing such will be automatically deleted5) 5 lucky commentors will win a free e-book copy of "1106 Grand Boulevard" (for which I will need your e-mail address)

1) Pandora Poikilos2) Peace from Pieces 3) http://peacefrompieces.blogspot.com/4) Follow the blog via Google Follow Connect, email me with the subject "Pandora's Trick or Treat" 5) 1 lucky follower will win a $5 Amazon giftcard. 









1) Daniel L Carter2) The G-6 Chronicles Facebook Fanpage3) http://www.facebook.com/TheG6Chronicles4) Like The G-6 Chronicles on Facebook5) The G-6 Chronicles will be giving away a first edition autographed copy of The Unwanted book 1 of The Unwanted Trilogy. Simply like our page for a chance to win for the month of October. One random fan will be chosen on Halloween Monday October 31st. 





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1) Carolyn Arnold (Contest may only be 10?31)2) Carolyn Arnold Author3) http://sassy3421.blogspot.com/4) A chance to win an ARC copy of ELEVEN (Kindle version) set to release 11.11.11.  TWO COPIES up for grabs!  5) To qualify, entrants must follow my blog, watch the trailer and answer the trivia question about it correctly in their comment.6) Extra chances to win if specificed tweets are shared.7) Every comment and link to my blog (on Twitter) will be assigned a number. A random number generator will determine the winners.



1) Dixie Goode 2) Duffy Barkley's "Mom"3) http://duffybarkley.blogspot.com/4) Instructions - I will place the names of commenters, who leave a mention of the trick or treat blog adventure, in a hat and one lucky winner will be announced on the blog.5) I'm offering - One Paperback set of My Two Novels - but they have to be willing to email me their mailing address, which I will only use to send them the books









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1) Deb Hockenberry2) The Bumpy Road To Children's Publishing3) http://thebumpyroadtopublishing.blogspot.com4) Instructions - I will place the names of commenters in a hat and one lucky winner will be announced on the blog to email me their story,5) I'm offering - One critique to a childeren's story.









1) Lorhainne Eckhart2) Illusions3) http://lorhainneeckhart.blogspot.com/4) Leave a comment and follow the blog.5) One lucky commentor to receive 2 eBooks of Lorhainne Eckhart's last two releases, The Choice, and The Captain's Lady







1) C.V. Smith2) Nettie Parker's Backyard3) www.nettieparkersbackyard.com4) email me (nettie.halley@gmail.com) as to why you want to read my book.  Best answer wins!5) A free copy of my ebook






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 1) Joseph Rinaldo 2) Read Rinaldo 3) http://wwwjosephmrinaldocom.blogspot.com/ 4) Read the post entitled "What Do Books Mean To You?", leave a comment on the post, and invite one friend to do so as well 5) One free copy of my ebook "Hazardous Choices" to each of the first five commenters






1) Maranda Russell2) Maranda Russell Author3) http://marandarussell.com/my-books/4) Visitors just need to leave a comment on the "My Books" page (the link above goes directly to this page).  Would love to hear your thoughts about my book covers/concepts!5) One winner will be chosen to receive a signed copy of my paperback picture book, "Ode to Icky"!  Will need each person who comments to give their email address so I can contact them if they win. 








1) John Zunski2) Musings of a Mountain Dweller3) http://johnzunski.wordpress.com/4) Visitors have to correctly 'pronounce' Maistoinna Standing Bear's first name...  It will be a multiple choice question.5) winners receive a free e-copy of Shangri-La Trailer Park.












1) Stephanie Keyes
2) Everyday Fiction In Progress
3) http://stephaniekeyes.blogspot.com/
4) Instructions on what your Trick or Treaters need to do to be entered in a contest or receive your "treat" that you will be responsible for. The first five trick or treaters to visit the site and comment on at least two posts.
5) What you're offering: i.e. a book giveaway, a free bookmark to all who leave a comment, whatever the ONE thing is you want to offer. Winners will receive an ebook copy of The Star Child.








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1) Judy Ann Davis2) A Writer's Revelations3) http:/www.judyanndavis.blogspot.com4) Follow the blog and leave a comment on the bottom with contact info. and words, "Trick or Treat." 5) One randomly chosen winner will receive a first edition, signed copy of Red Fox Woman







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1) Erik Gustafson (Contest may only be on 10?31)2) Apparitions of Terror3) http://eriktiger.wordpress.com/4) Do a trick (comment) describing the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to you.5) Get a treat: the three creepiest true stories will win a free ebook copy of "Fall Leaves and the Black Dragon




1) Linn B. Halton - Founder of Love A Happy Ending2) Love A Happy Ending 3) http://www.loveahappyending.com4) Visit the site - everyone's a winner!5) Prize - discover the treasures of 30 elite authors: Some participating right here on this event 




1)William G. Bentrim (Contest may only be on 10/31)2)Azure Dwarf's Horde of SciFi & Fantasy 3) http://azuredwarf.blogspot.com/4)Click on link to post, fill out name, email address and physical address.  Leave out physical if so inclined.  5) One copy of Lory Kaufman's YA novel, The Lens and the Looker.







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1) Vickie Adair2) Storyteller's Blog3) http://www.vickieadair.com/4) Leave a comment on the blog to enter the Trick or Treat drawing. 5) 2 lucky commenters will win a free of "Sonnet of a Housewife" signed by the author.













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1) Amrita Publishing
2) NiamhClune
3) http://on.fb.me/qs221A
4) Pick your favourite short Halloween story from among those submitted.
5) Participants will be contacted via facebook and asked to supply their e-mail address to receive a free download sent by email from CD Touching Angels.






1) Collette Scott2) Collette Scott - Author3) http://collettescott.blogspot.com4) To enter to win a "treat" readers need to leave a comment with their email address and follow my blog.5) Five lucky commenters will receive a free ebook of Hannah's Blessing from Smashwords or via email.





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1) Niamh Clune2) NiamhCluneWrites
3). http://niamhclunewrites.blogspot.com/ Niamh Clune
4) Add a short story about an inspirational woman you know. 
5) Best one, which shall be judged on AC, wins a FREE download of Orange Petals in a Storm



1) Jan & Don Beasley 2) Live Events and Productions3) http://www.LiveEventsAndProductions.blogspot.com4) Leave a comment to enter the Trick or Treat drawing - no profanity, vulgarity, etc. Posts containing such will be automatically deleted5) 1 lucky comment will win a free ebook copy of "Production P.A.R.T.Y. - Coordinating a Full Scale Production"


END OF LIST:
Be sure to come back all weekend longso you can visit as many blogs as you'd like!


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That wraps it up for this week - it's about the Trick or Treat Blog Adventure!


The best treat you can give back to these authors if you don't 
happen to be a winner of their books, is buy one. ;-)


Thanks so much for playing along.
We hope you enjoyed the event.
Please feel free to leave comments here or at JLB Creatives
regarding the fun you had on your Blog Adventure.



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For my part in the giveaway  
Instructions - I will place the names of commenters, who leave a mention of the trick or treat blog adventure, in a hat and one lucky winner will be announced on the blog.
I'm offering - One Paperback set of My Two Novels - but they have to be willing to email me their mailing address, which I will only use to send them the books

Trick Or Treat Blog Adventure to run Oct. 28 - 31

 I will place the names, of commenters to this post, who leave a mention of the trick or treat blog adventure before 9 AM Pacific Time, on Nov. 1st, into a hat and one lucky winner will be announced on the blog. Log Design by Tammie Gibbs I'm offering - One Paperback set of My Two Novels - but the winner has to be willing to email me their mailing address, which I will only use to ship the books.  So Check back after 10 on Nov. 1st for the winner's name and my email address.


Find the complete Trick or Treat Blog adventure on Janet Beasley's Blog at,   http://www.jlbcreatives.blogspot.com/ There are many other author's giving prizes on their blog as well. 
Sorry, I'm kind of lame on how to make something clickable so to get to her blog, you'll have to copy and paste the link.  Sorry again.  Funny how clickable has become so prevalent that copy and paste really feels like having to go the extra distance, but it will be worth it.
                                                                     http://www.orangeberrybooks.com/      
                                              Bringing Authors and Readers Together

Bogging Down in My Writing about Oregon Trail.

On August 3 I gave you the prologue to my Oregon Trail, work in progress, and on Sept. 12 I shared the first chapter.  I guess I am ready to revisit that trail again, and try to figure out why something that was flowing smoothly has become bogged down.



 I keep avoiding opening the document, finding that blogging, or facebook, or planning an entirely new novel have a lot more appeal at the moment.  I suspect that it was so easy to write at first, and I have the whole thing outlined and finished in my head, and somehow that has translated as "finished" in my motivation too.  Why was it easier to write two Duffy Barkley novels, when the actual writing was harder, than to force myself to finish Della and Kenyon's story?



I find myself re-reading what I have, with pleasure, but when I get to the final chapters, where all I have is a paragraph, planning where the chapter will go, I suddenly find that even sitting down to write out bills has more appeal.









Chapter 2  Kenyon (From 1990s) 
  "Dear Diary,     Dad is trying to get me to smile like he can just trick me out of a "bad mood."  Why can't he see that this isn't just a mood – it is my life ruined forever!  My Whole Life!  Just now he slowed way down and leaned forward like he was trying to crawl up on the dashboard and I yelled at him, "What are you doing?  Keep you eyes on the road!"  but he was staring up in the sky like he didn't care if we ended up dead in a ditch.  I should want to end up dead but that convinced me.  I'm not ready to die yet. But I am ready to drive!      "Girls – Look!  It's a bald eagle!"  He looked back with this hopeful smile on his lips like some dumb bird could make me forget that my friends were getting farther behind us at every mile.     Melissa started to twist around to see but I pulled her back down and snapped at Dad, "The only Eagles I care about are in Philadelphia – and that is only if Pittsburgh isn't playing.  Stay on your side of the road!" [image error]        He looked sad, and angry – I thought maybe I'd gone too far and held my breath but he shut-up and started driving again.  Doesn't he get that my whole life can go by and I won't forgive this?  There is no justice in the world when you're 15."      Kenyon snapped her book closed and clipped the pen to the front cover.  Her mind drifted back to the late night Deli where her Grandfather had given her the desk.  They had just come from a Pirate Game and it had been a long standing habit to go to the small, corner deli after a game.     Kenyon had felt bittersweet.  Happy that her beloved Pirates had won but anxious because she didn't know if she would ever sit in their stadium beside her Grandpa again.  She bit into her sandwich.  Nothing had as much flavor as a hot pastrami, on rye, with mustard, onions, and sauerkraut.  Did they have sandwich shops in Oregon?  She swallowed the suddenly flavorless mouthful and blinked against the burning in her eyes.     Grandpa reached out gently, and dabbed a bit of mustard from the corner of her lips with a rough, paper napkin.  "Penny for your thoughts?"  Kenyon shook her head abruptly and forced a small smile.     Grandpa picked up his own hoagie and made exaggerated signs of enjoyment as he chewed, rubbing his tummy and smacking his lips, eyes rolling and tongue flicking out to lick his lips.  He snatched the dill pickle spear off her plate and dangled it between his thumb and pointer finger, "Ah, Heaven.  The Pirates win and I share Manna with the world's most beautiful sport fan."    Kenyon laughed and found that she could eat again.  He patted her back approvingly and waited until the sandwich disappeared before pulling a large box out from behind his chair.  She had seen him take it from the car, of course, but wasn't sure she could accept his gift without melting down into puddles of tears.     She turned sideways on her chair and allowed him to place the package on her lap.  "What is it?"  Smiling right then might have been one of the bravest things she had ever done.     "Just a little something I found at a garbage sale and thought it would be perfect for keeping you from forgetting your tired, old Grandfather."     Garbage sale was his only name for the garage sales he loved to frequent, more for the chance to snoop into peoples lives, and exchange gossip and chatter, than for any real interest in the items being offered.  Pittsburgh had a tradition of visiting with neighbors, family and passers-by on the swings and gliders on the wide front porches.  For Grandpa the yard sales were a happy extension of that tradition.     At first, Kenyon hadn't figured out how to open the seemingly, seamless box, but as she explored the stationary and exclaimed over the malachite pen, she found a cellphone with pre-paid minutes and she had been comforted by the evidence that her Grandfather intended to hold tight to the ties that bound them together as both family and friends.
     Now, she reached into the desk and extracted a sheet of writing paper and an envelope.  Instead of her diary, she needed to write a thank you note and up-date to let him know that she felt his love with her every time she set her hand on the silky smooth wood of the desk.  She glared out the window at the landscape, which was so not Pittsburgh.     She set the tip of her pen to the paper as her Dad swerved to avoid a plastic bag filled with garbage in the center of his lane.  The van swerving made her draw an angry line across the clean paper.  In frustration she balled the paper up and flung it on the floor of the van.  She started to put her pen away, but drew a calming breath, sighed, looked out the window and took out another piece of paper.  Grandpa would still love to hear that she was using his gift.  Melissa looked up from her electronic game and smiled but didn't try to make any demands for the moment.
 ____________________________________
I do realize that I am not being much more co-operative than my protagonist here.  Kenyon is stubborn but, in refusing to finish her story, so am I.  I told myself, I have to finish this first draft before I can start a new NaNoWriMo novel in November.  I hope to keep that promise.  At lest, I have opened the file and am rereading the words I wrote, and trying to hear the voices of the two girls as they travel the Oregon Trail, 150 years apart.  I just never realized when I first conceived of this book, that even the 1990s girl might be history when I finally put her in front of an audience.

Never Alone

      Solitude is a wonderful feeling but, as one of the peanuts gang once noted, while sitting on a dock, watching the water, "it can get very lonely when you're by yourself."  I had that cartoon taped to the inside of my High School locker during a time of my life when I was always lonely, even when surrounded by teeming hallways of other people just my age.
 I love solitude, and seek it often, locking myself in the bathroom in a tub of hot water if I can't really get away, or staying up, even though I'm exhausted, just to drink in the silence once the rest of the house if sleeping.  Writing is a process that requires a lot of solitude for me, I need to be uninterrupted as I allow my mind to play with the thoughts and words that might sometime flow into someone else's mind in a delayed conversation, but must be born in quiet contemplation.  But Loneliness is deadening, it kills the spirit and energy that good writing must be filled with.

I love to write about the ideas and experiences that I have shared with those I love, and to expand those ideas into new plans or take them off on a tangent ow "what if . . . fantasy
 but of course, first, I have to share those experiences and one I have written about them, I want to share my writing.  I want to see if the thoughts that made me angry, can infuriate you, if my laughter triggers yours.  I want you to love the characters who lived in my head first.
And I want to someday make more than a few dollars on the writing that I do, so that I can feed my family and care for my home and still have time to write even more.  I truly believe that my stories are my gift to the world and that the beauty I see can help other people find a reason to smile and the hope of love and a breath of fresh air on an otherwise gloomy day.
So sometimes I have to reach out to other people.  I have to say, look at what I have to offer, what can you share with me.  How can we help each other make this world a better place for our parents, our children and everyone?  It is easier to write than to look someone in the eye and tell them that they will find my book to be worth their hard earned money.  Learning to treat writing as a business does not come naturally.
 But I have found an incredible group of people who have helped to make my life less lonely.  I have found that social networking really is both, a social experience with give and take, and a connection that links each of us together in a supporting net.  I have found the net that did appear when I took the leap out in faith.

Author Central, on Facebook, and Amrita Press and Orangeberry Book Collective and a whole bunch of writers who work at almost every level and cover almost every writing field, have pulled together to shout out and celebrate each one of us.  Instead of competing and trying to say, My book is better, we have been encouraging and supporting and understanding that everyone has a story worth telling and they jut need help finding the person who needs to hear that story.

 We have been celebrating the joy in being writers and tweeting each others news and liking each others pages - AND - surprise, Surprise - LIKING each other

The chemistry between us has been magical and has created a group with a powerful voice.  You should stop by Author Central and see what I mean.
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 We have flooded each other with support and it has already been bearing fruit.  And since I am already talking about on-line places where I have found support and friends, let me also mention a few others who have jump started me on the road to my best future.  NaNoWriMo, is the National Novel Writing Month site where you can find support to write a quick and dirty first draft of the book you've always wanted to write.
 FlyLady.com is where you can learn the babysteps to turn a overwhelmed house into a loving home.  NoExcusesWorkouts (NeWo) with Jonathan Roche will give you a simple set of nutrition and exercise goals that make you feel strong and energized and never like you are hurting.

Oh, and did I mention, If you love fantasy, especially journeys to other worlds like Narnia or Oz or Neverland, Check out my novels, Duffy Barkley is Not a Dog and Duffy Barkley: Seek Well

Reading and Writing are Woven Through My Life

When I try to recall the various times and places and people who were important to me, I find that they are often linked in my mind to the books we shared, or the ones that I was reading while I was there.  Even times when I was completely tunes in to the "real world" were often more real in my mind, thanks to being able to compare and contrast them to the stories of other times and places.
My first memories are of sitting on my Mom or Grandma's lap and begging for "Chicken Little" again and again, or reaching out to poke the newspaper while balanced on one of Dad's knees at the breakfast table.
Reading to my guys began when they were born and a dozen years later they still love a good story I remember first Grade with books written in the strange phonics of ITA, where my Clifford, The Big Red Dog had Book spelled bwk and school was skwl.
I did not have social skills for dealing with people my own age.  Until I started school, I was surrounded with great grandparents and Great aunts and uncles and could easily talk to people in their 80's and 90's - but 5 or 6!!! No.

So reading became my refuge, hiding behind a book allowed me to escape eye contact and gave me experience and "friends" and practice at the things kids did and thought until I could finally leave Nancy Drew or Trixie Belden on the shelf and talk to flesh and blood friends too.
Hooked my son on Star Wars Novels and his first poem was about Star Wars
This freckle faced "Me" loved books
May be why glasses became essential in 4th grade and by this 10th grade shot no-one could imagine me without themEven when I came out from behind the book, I used books as a way to connect to people.  I wrote my own stories and gained in confidence as people asked to see what I was writing and actually asked for more.  ARound 8th and 9th grade I discovered the other readers in my school, and we shared our passion for the best books by adding our name to the library waiting list.  I remember some of the most popular books were scary. I was thinking that Hunger Games was too twisted for Jr. High kids until I remembered that, that is when we were devouring, Flowers In the Attic, Carrie, Jaws, and The Exorcist.  Of course we also loved less scary books and The Outsiders and The  Once and Future King were big too.
I think I loved this dress due to Laura IngallsFreshman year of college, I really began writing poetry and met my husband.  He loved reading too, and we share a literature book from that year with several favorites, including, "A Rose For Miss Emily" and "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"  We wrote a lot that year but looking at my poems I see that they are less poetry and more a journal of the hormonal teenager who has found her "soul mate."
and my husband loved Dr. Doolittle so the animals also came thanks to books
We ended up having a house full of books, two sons, and at one time, a dozen parrots, 2 cats and 2 greyhounds.  The craziness often drove us to taking long road trips, where, instead of reading, we would listen to books on tape, and that is how I shared the first 4 Harry Potter books with boys who were too young to read them themselves.  Later the books were devoured by the boys on their own, but I miss those family drives with the story shared between us. Going to See Writer, Timothy Zahn was a family TreatFinally I got brave enough to publish my own fantasy novels, and they have slowly been making their way into the wider world, but not even the thrill of holding my first printed book can equal the feeling of having my family hanging on as I read aloud from 280 typewritten pages, and they were just as involved as when I was reading, "a real book" to them.
Thrilled to hold my first book in proof
Still Thrilled with two novels in print Still, I wondered, what leads from reading other peoples stories to needing to create my own?  My first "job" was helping my Grandpa, tan rabbit hides and mount them on fiberglass forms, with glass eyes and deer antlers.  I sold those, "Jack-a-lopes" to the tourists along with richly detailed stories of the life and habits of the critters.  I think that is when I became hooked on having an audience and knowing that my words had the power to make someone wait for the next one, or pull out their money, or laugh, just laugh.
Posing my Anne Geddes Sunflower baby in my Yard
Judy, my first and most faithful best friend
Oh Give Me a HomeEvery game I made up for my dolls and my 2 younger brothers, every story I acted out to my classroom or told to my sons, drew me deeper into the part of me that finds reality best felt against the backdrop of creative storytelling.  I can feel pain and sorrow when a friend dies, but survive it a little easier because I've experienced it in a slightly more removed manner first, when reading Old Yeller and Where the Red Fern Grows.

The Ghost Ship

In August, this year, I published the sequel to my Fantasy Novel, Duffy Barkley is Not a Dog.  The second book also stars Duffy, a young, stubborn boy who uses crutches and hates to be told "No."   Duffy Barkley: Seek Well also has some of the same characters and another adventure in Uhrlin.  I was delighted to take Duffy on another journey as well, and have him explore one of my favorite places, the Lake Atitlan area of Guatemala.









This Month, I have reduced the kindle price of the original book to 99 cents
http://www.amazon.com/Duffy-Barkley-T...

 and priced the new kindle book at merely $2.99 in the hope that more people will be willing to test out their own interest in these adventure stories.
http://www.amazon.com/Duffy-Barkley-T...




One of the parts of the sequel that was the most fun for me to imagine and write was a scene I have shivered at in other books and movies.  I find the idea of the abandoned, untouched home or ship to be a chilling mystery, and so Duffy Barkley: Seek Well, begins with the mystery of a Ghost Ship.












Prologue:  Ghost Ship
     On the colorless day that the ghost ship was discovered, the sea was calm and milk white.  The air was thick with fog and Captain Edward could not see from the port side of his "Morning Breeze" to the starboard railing.  Two years had passed since this area of the sea had been violated with the mining and upheaval of Smelter's attempted wall building.  The ocean's surface was forgiving, but the captain found himself wondering what the sea bed looked like now.     His musings were interrupted by the voice from the Crow's Nest.  "Ship off port bow!"  As the faintest grey silhouette of masts and sails became visible, the Captain ordered a full stop and squinted through the murky light.  "Ahoy, The Ship," he called out and then echoed his call once and again, but the other ship did not respond.     His men gathered along the railing, curiosity turned to un-ease as the larger ship remained silent and no sight of movement could be detected upon the decks which rose high above their own.  As they neared, they slowly began to fear that some calamity had befallen the larger vessel.      The "Morning Breeze" had been coming from a cargo delivery from the Bobbing Islands to the Bison near the Geyser area on the mainland.  Their return cargo was bison wool, and under no urgent timeline.  There was obviously something wrong with the larger ship, that they had found dead in the water, and the captain did not hesitate to order a lifeboat lowered so that he and a few men could row over to investigate the . . ., he peered up at the name as it revealed itself from the mist, where it was painted in black letters, the "Soaring Schoomer."

     Captain Edward pulled himself up the last rung of the ladder and hesitated.  The silence of the large sailing vessel was un-settling and complete. Yet even though there was no indication of life on board, there was a certain sense of violation involved in going, without permission, onto someone else's ship.    He stepped onto the wooden deck and the training of a life at sea forced him to call out, "Permission to come aboard?"  Even though he spoke softly, the words seemed to echo loudly – calling to ghosts or sea-monsters for unwanted attention.  The hesitation in his voice and the nerves that he didn't want to be showing, forced him to raise his voice and repeat the greeting in the normal booming voice that he used to be heard on deck.  His men called it his, "command voice."     His footsteps were firm on the boards in spite of the unsettling nerves he felt from his toes, to the pit of his stomach, to the hair follicles on his head.  His men, following close upon his heels, were alert, but waited for his signal before moving to investigate the ship.  He had brought seven sailors with him, and ordered those who remained behind to stay on watch for any sign of trouble.     The discoveries were as unsettling as the un-natural silence, and the men spoke in little more than whispers – in the respectful quiet of voices at a funeral.  The Soaring Schoomer was clearly built more for passengers than for cargo, but where were the passengers and crew?     "None of the lifeboats are missing," spoke a man who looked at the hooks and ties along the railing on both sides of the ship.  He dug into the stores in the small rowboat and noticed that it seemed to be a fairly typical supply, such as what they always kept stored in their lifeboats.  There were fishing hooks and lines, small solar water distillers for removing salt, warm, waterproof skins, and some small store of first aid materials and preserved food.  Nothing indicated that the stores had been accessed in any recent times.     "The life vests do not appear to have been touched, sir.  I don't know how many they had but this box is full," another sailor said, and the thud as he let the wooden lid drop back into place made the silence ring briefly.    Moving beyond the open space and into the dining room, the feeling of strangeness intensified.  Most of the tables were set as if expecting the passengers to file in momentarily.  There were platters of food, sitting waiting to be served along a counter between the galley and the dining area.  While the cooking area was clean and well kept, a few large, dirty pans, soaked in water that still retained some suds.  The large grill bore scouring powder and rags, as it waited to be scrubbed clean.     Captain Edward gathered his men around him here in the little kitchen,  the smell of cooking still fresh around them.  "I am thinking that the next part of this investigation could turn ugly."  He told them, "with no sign that anyone has left the ship, I am afraid of what we will find when we go below deck and begin to search the cabins.  Stay in pairs and if you find anyone who is obviously dead, DO NOT TOUCH THE BODY!  If this is a plague ship, we don't want to catch any disease.  Of course, if you find someone who is alive, contact me.  I will be going to search the Captain's cabin and to look for a ship's log.  Just be very alert.  We have no idea what we are dealing with here."
The Captain's cabin was only a few steps from the helm.  Its heavy wooden door swung open with just a feather light push.  The room was empty but appeared lived in, as if the occupant had walked out, expecting to return momentarily.      There were articles of clothing and a shaving kit.  Many of the items that a person would grab before abandoning ship were out in plain sight, a photograph of a woman, some small treasured keepsakes. A leather bound ship's log lay closed upon the desk next to a weighted down, unrolled chart.  The regular desk chair was pulled up by the chart, as was a much sturdier, larger, wooden bench.  At least two people had been studying the chart not long ago.    Captain Edward stepped up to the desk to see what had caught their attention.  As the simple chart began to make sense to him, he blinked in surprise.  The Bobbing Islands, with their random movements, which kept them safe from many dangers, were shown, graphed and moving, along a seasonal, multi-year cycle.  Instantly the captain grasped the threat that this chart posed to the Islands and their security, but the words that he saw, inked up along the right hand margin of the chart made the hair on his arms rise and the blood in his veins turn icy.  "P. SB in Oohline."     Briefly he forgot the mystery of the empty ship and was blind to the cabin around him.  His mind's eye focused on his memory of a laughing, snow white face and the green mane of the young lady who was Princess of the Bobbing Islands.  He saw her swimming with Orca, as sleek and beautiful as they when she leaped from the dark water in a cascade of diamond bright drops.     The drumming of boot steps approaching the cabin across the wooden deck, then the deep voice of one of his men interrupted his fearful musings.  "Captain, Sir.  The cabins are empty.  There appears to be no one on board.  No sign of violence or struggle, no obviously missing trunks or personal belongings.  The ship does not appear to have been completely full, but there would seem to have been several passengers, including families with children."     Another sailor added his opinion as he approached, "If the ship was in a harbor, you'd swear they'd all walked onto the dock with every intention of being back in time for supper."     Captain Edward acknowledged the information with a nod and then glanced at the man again – looking questioningly at the cloth monkey in the crook of the sailor's left arm.     "Oh, right.  This?   This was tucked under a blanket with its head on a pillow and it just struck me. . . well,  . . . the child who tucked it in like that would not have just walked away and forgotten it.     Again the captain nodded, and turned back to roll up the chart.  He tied it with a string and took it with him as he pulled the door closed behind him, then he stopped, turned back, and went inside once more to retrieve the leather bound ship's log.  With the rolled chart, and heavy book safely secured, he closed the door again and directed his boarding party to make their way down the ladder for the return to their own ship.       Now the decisions must be made.  If he left a skeleton crew on the abandoned vessel, they could limp it in to the nearest port.  But if the chart was the threat that he feared it was, and if that threat was focused upon the only child of the King and Queen, then speed in getting a message to . . .where? . . .The Bobbing Islands?   . . . Oohline?  Speed became his first, indeed his only priority.  He waved his men back off the ghostly ship.  They came at once, one of them still clutching the soft monkey and holding it to his shoulder as he might comfort his own babe.

     Captain Edward ran his hand along the sleek, rich, chocolate brown, wooden railing as he stepped once more onto his own "Morning Breeze."  Through the caress on the wood, he felt an energy, which re-charged him and welcomed him home to a world that made sense.  The larger ship, looming above them, was well maintained and ship shape – but his little lady was loved and pampered and it showed in every gleaming inch.  He felt it in the way she gave her heart to leaping across the water at the merest thought from him.  "Make for the Bobbing Islands, full speed wherever possible." He ordered      Captain Edward's mind was ever busy.  He considered where they were located and the fact that the Soaring Schoomer seemed to be mainly a passenger ship.  Thinking that they were a bit to the South and West of Uhrlin made the Captain consider possible enemies who might want to attack the Bobbing Islands.  None were immediately obvious, but the more that he considered the options, the more one country stayed in the forefront of his mind.  He didn't really know much about them.  There had not been a lot of contact between the countries, but in the long distant past there had been war ships, which made instant raids against the shore towns and the islands.  The raiders took what they could, treasure or living being, and vanished over the ocean once more to somewhere to the west of the known sea.      Glancing back at the ship he had ordered left to the sea's mercy, he looked up into the rigging once more.  From the crow's nest, a small strip of blue cloth fluttering in the light breeze was all that moved on all that large and eerie ship.

Back to My Oregon Trail Novel

 Back on August 3rd, I wrote a post about getting into Pottermore as a Beta Tester and about the other activities of the summer, including the challenge to write a novel in a month on CampNaNoWriMo.  I posted the prologue to the book I am working on, tentatively titled, Double Time On the Oregon Trail.  I am aiming the book at the middle grades and it is a time travel story almost, the two 15 year old girls, traveling the Oregon Train 150 years apart, do not actually time travel, but they do both own the same lap desk, and sometimes when they open it, what they find is what the other girl had in it at that location, a journal and other items.
The girls are traveling similar routes. Kenyon is in a Dodge Caravan with her Dad and younger sister, while her pregnant mother sells their house and flies out later to meet them.
Della is in a wagon caravan with her pregnant mother, her dad and a younger brother.  A lot of other people start in the caravan, but several twists of fate leave their numbers less as time passes.

Writing this has been fun and is not as far from completion as when August began, but it didn't finish in the month of camp.  I make no excuses, but do admit that I like reading the research a little more than necessary.    It is very different from the two novels I have published about Duffy Barkley, which are purely based on fantasy and my own life experiences and so flow, uninterrupted by fact checking except for trying to maintain consistency from one book to the next as far as spelling and place names.



On Aug. 3rd I gave you the prologue about why the lap desk was special.  Today I will share what I wrote for Chapter 1







Chapter One – Kenyon
     "Dear Diary,     OK, that sounds a bit stupid but how else am I supposed to start off with one of these things.  I'm not going to start naming you like Ann Frank did.  You're no "Kitty" but I can see the appeal in believing that these words will be written to someone, anyone at all.  No one in my real life seems to be hearing a thing that I have to say.  OK!  That does sound like whining but nobody cares what I want or how I feel.  They are the grown-ups and they get to make all the decisions and I'm supposed to just smile and kiss all my friends good-by without one small word of resentment."     The pen dug in so sharply as it underlined the two words that the paper was sliced cleanly right through.     Fifteen year old Kenyon glanced up from her refuge in the very back seat of the Dodge Caravan.  She was the farthest she could get from her Father in the driver's seat and still be in the van.  In her lap she cradled a simple box of dark, weathered wood.  Resting on the sloping surface of the box was a blank book with rich, creamy pages.  Snoring gently beside her was a smaller version of herself, a five year old girl with matching, tanned skin and dark brown hair.  Kenyon returned to the words she was writing on the first page of the blank book.     "I'm not usually such a grouch, but my whole, entire life is being destroyed and I am not only expected to let it happen, I actually have to pitch in and help it happen!  I am supposed to be starting my sophomore year with my friends, not that I'm super popularity girl or anything but I do have friends and they all go to the same school, My School, and it's going to be a great year except I won't be there.  I'm here!  I'm driving across the whole, boring country with my dictator Dad and my bratty sister and I have to be responsible for the brat so that Dad can relax after driving all day.  He could at least have let me get my learner's permit so I could be driving too, but no, he wants to wait for me to have lessons when we don't have a trailer to pull.  He tells me to grow-up all the time but tries to keep me his little girl at the same time.       "Speaking of little girls, what I have to do is babysit her through the evenings at different motel swimming pools and keep her entertained for long, hot, boring days in this old van.  She's such a baby!  The trouble is that soon she won't even be the baby of the family!  If Mom wasn't pregnant she would be driving out with me and 'lissa instead of staying home to finalize the sale of our house.  Dad could do that, but this way will be easier on her, so Dad and I find the new house in Oregon, and move things in and do all the hard work, then Mom just walks out our old door, flies to Oregon in like, half a day, and walks into the house we've gotten ready for her."     Kenyon turned the page in the book and twisted her pen between her fingers as she thought about the unfairness of her life.  It was a beautiful pen, expensive because of the squishy soft grip and the polished malachite casing.  The pen and lap desk had been a gift from Grandpa Walt.  She loved the aged wooden desk and the cool gleaming green stone of the pen like the aged brown of his skin and the gleaming green water of the river where he took her to skip stones, watch snapping turtles and gather honeysuckle.  The thought of him made her eyes burn with unshed tears and her throat feel tight.  She probably could guess he'd be at a Pirates game about now – something she might never do again!  She slid off the lid of the desk and idly sifted through contents she already knew by heart; thick creamy paper, rich with the perfume of the dried honeysuckle tucked between the stiff sheets and starting to absorb the scent of cedar from the box, envelopes, a small spiral notebook with black pages, a supply of pale gel pens, a calling card, a small mirror, pens and pencils, a pirate pennant, and a pink Swiss army knife.  There was also postage stamps and a Kennywood address book, the picture of raging rapids on the cover made her smile wistfully.  The entire box was made without a nail anywhere, smoothly joined by an expert craftsman.  Grandpa said it was probably old, maybe even a hundred years or more.  She slid the lid back into place and resumed writing.     "Grandpa Walt would say I'm pouting.  I guess I am, but missing him is one of the things I'm pouting about.  I know he loves me and I love him so much.  He says he'll call and talk to me every weekend and fly out to spend a week in Oregon at Christmas, but then he'll go home to Pittsburgh and I'll still be missing him!"     The hot weight of her kid sister sleeping against her became unbearable, "Lissa, Get off me!  You're sweaty."     "Lissa, I mean it – Move.  Wake up brat."     "Ung!  Kenny, stop shoving me.  Hey, read your book to me."     "No, Go back to sleep, just not on me."     "Read to me."  The demand in her younger sister's voice took a second to register in Kenyon's mind.  She turned to see the small girl gazing at her with a sleepy pout.  "Read what you're writing Kenny."     Kenyon snapped hr journal shut.  "No, ouch!  You made me drop my pen.  Now I have to unbuckle my seatbelt and you're laying on the buckle.  Shove over."     "Read or I'll tell Dad.  You're supposed to entertain me."     Kenyon snatched up her pen and hastily stuffed it back in the lap desk and slid the desk beneath her seat.  "No way, Melissa.  Don't pull my hair."     "I didn't mean to pull your hair.  I was just sitting up.  You told me to move.  You don't even love me.  You'd love to be an only child!  Let me see!"     "Ouch, KENYON!"   From the front seat, Dad called, "Kenyon, stop picking on your little sister."     "Don't touch my journal, ever!  Wait.  Are you sure you aren't still sleepy?  We'll get there faster if you sleep."     "Get where?"     "Dad's looking for a market so we can get oil for the car and cold drinks for us."     "You sleep Kenyon.  Then I'll get there faster.  NO, Don't sleep read your journal and we'll still get there faster.  Did you write about me and how we'll swim every night?"      She knew that Melissa would become even more determined if she was flatly refused.  "Really, it's just boring old stuff I was writing while I was waiting for you to wake up.  I can't wait to find out if Templeton breaks the egg.  I want to read more about Charlotte.  I'm having a hard time waiting but I didn't want to peek ahead while you were sleeping."    "I'd kill you!  You can't ever read Charlotte's Web if I'm asleep!"     Kenyon forced her eyes to look wide and innocent as she shrugged apologetically,  "I just wrote."     "Well, that yucky, boring stuff is OK when I'm asleep but never read ahead without me.  I'm ready now."  Melissa turned imploring eyes upon her big sister and the journal was forgotten. Often I just write for myself, because there is a part of me that is most myself when spinning stories, but this time especially I am curios about feedback and your comments would make me smile, even if you hate it, just to know someone cares enough to respond.
Thanks for taking the time to look.


Dixie

September Resolutions & New School Year

My favorite people!

I have been in school for 42 years.  Is it any wonder then, that I think of September as the true "New Year" and that my mind turns without fail to thoughts of reassessing what I have done, what I have failed to do, and what I want to improve the next time around.
Teachers are a bit like farmers.  Our life revolves in cycles with the seasons.  We plant seeds that may not bear fruit until we are long gone and we sometimes feel like nothing changes, like we are caught in a routine of plodding through the same tired, worn out tracks until we can't hardly lift our heads from the pillow, which we do long before the sun does.  But then things change fast when they do change, from tiny kids to graduates, growing in spurts and blooming when our eyes are turned away for only a moment. Volunteering to grow in untilled soil where only a moment ago there was no sign of life.
 The routines seem unvaried with each season, open a cabinet you closed last year, put up the poser you have already pinned to the wall in the same place 9 years running, greet another room filled so tightly with young bodies that you know you have to go on a diet or you will never be able to squeeze those adult sized hips between the rows to see what the question is there in the middle of the room.
 But the routines can change, and the students are different, though they may have the same faces and last names and stun you by saying, "You used to teach my Dad. (Grandpa)"  Every year, the freshly custodianed classroom waits in pure potential.  This year can be different.  This year you can be all things to all people.  You can be super Mom, wonder teacher, writer for the crowds of adoring fans who will discover you.
 You can save the world, and your sanity and read the classics and get in shape.  And Blog about it as you do it.



You can wake up with a smile and kick the coffee habit and do your yoga and learn to fly a jet.  You can live all the dreams that Dr. Seuss promised you when you were going into the first, first day of school.


You can, again try to be better than you have been at the very same time that you can smile and love yourself, flaws and all.

 So I have been filling out calendar pages with commitments to myself and taking the time to see what I have accomplished this summer.

Goals                                                                   Reality

Repaint the house                          Well, really it hadn't happened in 15 years had it?

Publish my second Novel               YES!  Duffy Barkley:  Seek Well is available from bookstores and Amazon

Get in shape                                    No! moving hurts!  my shoulder is in agony, and there was good food by the computer while I was writing!

Go Camping with my family            Yes!  Not as Much as I wanted, but yes!!  And with friends

Enjoy the summer before my son's senior year          Yes!!  And make sure he knows I love him

Declutter the house                          Flylady helped but only in babysteps. Closet cleaned out, bookshelves done but piles still in sunroom

publicize my books                          some yes, some no  getting the hang of it to the point of boring some friends

 Things have not been perfect.  People have died, friends have needed my time, but that is Life, the part that reminds me that I am alive, for all the pain and laughter come with loving and living and being open to the world


 There is so much beauty in this world, and if I only teach my students one thing, I want to teach them to look beyond the negative news and the scary stories to the beauty and the goodness.

 I was reading an article about 9-11 and how everyone wants to remember, but this one man was saying we should remember, because we can't forget anyway, but what we really need to remember is 9-12, when the world hurried to help each other, and there was caring and support and love offered to the families - and we were all family.  Even when we feel alone and targeted, there is someone willing to come into the rubble and help us out

This September that's what I want to hold on to.

blog hop

I do not know if this will work the way I am trying to do it, so have patience if not.  I think I just have to link this code in and it will pop up



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that did not work, hmm.  this ?  http://myadventureinmommyhood.blogspo...