The Anthology Advantage by donalee Moulton

 

 

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          As a freelance journalist, writing to deadline is as natural as breathing. When editors assign a story, they provide three essential pieces of information: topic, word count, and delivery date. Miss your deadline and kiss the possibility of a second assignment goodbye.

          This is not about editors flexing their weight. It’s about the reality of publishing. In the days before online everything, a story that didn’t arrive on time meant publications had a gaping hole in their magazine or newspaper. Gaping holes are filled when editors rush around like mad, cursing the name of the writer who missed their deadline.

          When I started to do more fiction writing than reporting, I found deadlines are often self-imposed. I will finish my first chapter by the end of the week. I will write a thousand words of my short story every day for four days. I will edit the story by Monday. I also found self-imposed deadlines are often more wishful thinking than etched in stone.

I missed the rigor of deadlines I didn’t dream up. Then I discovered anthologies. Genre writing is rife with anthologies – and anthologies have deadlines. They also often have themes, the journalistic equivalent of topic. The path ahead is paved for you. Here’s what we’d like you to write about. Here’s when you have to get it to us.

I wrote my first mystery short story, “Swan Song,” in 2021 in response to a call from the Crime Writers of Canada. To celebrate its fortieth anniversary, the national association planned to publish an anthology, Cold Canadian Crime. There was a theme (“cold” in the broadest sense of the word). There was a deadline. Count me in.

Since then, I have written about twenty more short stories. Most of them have been published, mostly in anthologies. A few have been reprinted in anthologies. At least one has been reprinted in several anthologies.

One of those short stories is called “Maladaptive Anonymous.” In the story, the main character calls this group, somewhat disparagingly, Daydreamers Anonymous in keeping with the anthology’s theme: Midnight Schemers & Daydream Believers. Just as editors expect you to meet your deadline (or miss out on the opportunity), they also expect you to stick to the topic. You have lots of room to play, but the boundaries are there.

While every anthology editor has their own process, the process is usually rigorous. And appreciated. This anthology had three rounds of readers and after the first and third round we were provided with feedback – and helpful suggestions for improvements. There were also at least three rounds of proofreading. At some point, you think this is overkill until in the final proof you discover your main character has titled their head. In the published version, their head is now tilted.

I have also, for the first time, taken a character from a short story and given them a feature-length role. E.M. Montgomery (can you guess what E.M. stands for?) is a private investigator and the main character in my new book Cardinal. Well, at least the main character who’s still alive.

 As a short story writer, anthologies bring me back to familiar ground. I am given three essential pieces of information: topic, word count, and delivery date. This helps me to focus on a theme – and to go to wonderful and wacky places with plots I might otherwise not uncover and characters I might otherwise not create. And I go there by deadline.

Flour Sack Fashion by Eden Monroe

 

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Necessity is the mother of invention (attributed to ancient Greek philosopher Plato), and that has certainly been true during economic lean times in our history.

 

That was the case with one of our most basic needs — clothing — as well as home textiles during both the First World War and Second World War when most of the world experienced fabric restrictions. Understandably, governments were forced to ration wool, cotton, silk, rubber and leather because they were needed for military uniforms, coats, blankets, tents, haversacks, gear, blackout sheets, bandages and hospital garments, parachutes, sandbags and more  — even linen for aircraft wings. Also in place during that time were “austerity regulations” for clothing, which limited the length (and width) of skirts, and among many other constraints, embellishments such as full sleeves, pleats, ruffles and cuffs were abolished. That even included allowing only one pocket per garment, and no flaps. Patch pockets were generally banned.

 

People faced the same situation during the Great Depression, when there were severe fabric limitations.  And what little fabric did happen to be available, was out of reach for most people as there was even less money to buy it — usually none at all. So what a lucky break it was that staples such as flour, sugar and livestock feed were packed in highly durable cotton sacks. That versatile packaging served the practical purpose of transporting such goods to best advantage, but ingenious women worldwide immediately saw a far greater benefit. Those precious sacks could be repurposed to meet their household’s fabric needs.

 

It was the original age of intelligent upcycling as the cotton fabric in these bags was put to use for common household items such as straining cloths for milk and perhaps berries and cherries destined for the jelly jar, but also tea towels and much more. Like the resourceful female lead in WATCHED, Rietta Nicholson and other housewives during the Great Depression, she knew the value of adapting items for a new use in a busy, multi-purposed household:

 

“The bread dough was sky high before she punched it down. She then greased two pans, divided the dough into good-sized loaves and placed them on the stove shelf to rise again. Going to the clothesline she folded the dry bedding and brought it up onto the veranda. That freed the line up for the freshly laundered sugar bag tea towel she’d used to strain the milk before pouring it into pitchers and storing it in the icehouse.”

 

But far more than tea towels and straining clothes were made from these durable cotton sacks. And so began the era of cotton commodity textile high fashion:

 

Says Pieceworkmagazine.com: “Commodity textile bags—more often called gunny, feed, or flour sacks—were frequently repurposed during the first half of the twentieth century. Women in rural parts of the United States used them to make clothing and home goods for their families to save money. Manufacturers used fabric bags for chicken and rabbit feed, as well as for human food such as flour, sugar, salt, seeds, and even tobacco. Authors Kendra Brandes and Loris Connolly explain that women used the fabrics from these bags—often called osnaburg, sheeting, percale, muslin, and even “chicken linen”—to make clothing and household items including dresses, shirts, underwear, bibs, aprons, trousers, dishtowels, quilt backing, and drapery. The fabric wore well and was essentially ‘free,’ making it ideal for children’s clothing, which needed replacing often.”

What makes this history even more interesting is that during the early nineteenth century wooden packaging was commonly used to transport food and feed staples. But a better way became possible with the invention of the sewing machine because using fabric was cheaper and easier to ship dry goods than containers made from wood. It would also set in motion a most welcome turn of events that saw everyday fashions created by everyday people from feed and flour sacks. It was a welcome change for any number of good reasons, and the new fabric packaging carried on seamlessly, so to speak, until the civil war interrupted the supply of cotton. That’s when manufacturers turned to India for burlap. It was not exactly ideal for clothing of course although there were occasions when it was utilized for that purpose, but burlap did come in handy for an ever-resourceful public. Farmer’s found many uses for those burlap bags, from harvest sacks, grain transport and storing seeds, to soaked burlap sacks being used to fight grass fires — even for cleaning rags, among a myriad of repurposed uses. Were there ever sack races before the introduction of the gunny sack?

 

Fast forward a few decades and given a re-established supply of cotton, manufacturer’s packaging also upped its game with textiles that were tightly woven for maximum strength considering that flour and sugar for example were delivered in roughly hundred pound bags. The material had to be sturdy which again was most welcome for its durability, and it also worked out to a lot of free high quality fabric.

 

According to pieceworkmagazine.com about the wide range of fabrics offered by bag manufacturers during the 1910’s:“Flour and sugar bags were made from tightly woven textiles such as percale and sheeting. They were light and soft, perfect for undergarments, dresses, towels, and sheets.”

Commodity textile bags were a Godsend to those struggling economically, using that material to make everything from dresses (including wedding dresses), trousers, shirts, underclothing, rag dolls, and pillowcases — even slings for a broken arm. Perhaps one of the most unusual items made from a flour sack and crafted by children, was a parachute for their cat (Jack). So we can only imagine the delight of seamstresses the world over when manufacturers, in the spirit of cheerful cooperation, provided fabric that was even more appealing.

Says Hastingsmillmuseum.ca: “Flour sack companies quickly caught on to the idea of their products being more saleable if manufactured with colourful designs, borders, fringes or even cut-out patterns for children’s clothing and toys. Company names and logos on the sacks, which once required soaking off with kerosene or bleach, were soon printed with water-soluble inks that quickly vanished after one or two launderings. Typically, three sacks were needed to create an adult-sized dress. Rather than waiting for several rounds of baking to be finished before a sack was emptied, city housewives might dump their flour into a kitchen flour barrel, freeing up the sacks for sewing projects.”

In addition to using the fabric, women collected the string with which the sacks were tied shut at the factory, using it to crochet lace for pillowcase and dresser scarf edges. Fabric and string were also used to make handmade button jewellery.

These flour, feed and sugar sack creations were popular for many years, when fabric was in short supply or money for purchasing store made clothes simply wasn’t available. And just as the long-standing idiom says that “everything old is new again” (Peter Allen and Carole Bayer Sager), these textile sack creations are now highly collectible and “hot properties” at antique shops and on antique dealer websites.

It’s always nice to look back at these wonderful times. I know I enjoy it because my grandmother utilized flour and sugar sacks to supplement the family home needs on the farm with those all-important sieving cloths for milk and jelly juice, as well as for dish towels, pillowcases, dresser scarves and squares for quilts. What treasured memories, and I even have some sugar bag fabric that I’ve tucked away for a really special project someday, probably a quilt.

I think one of the most special moments in history associated with those flour sack days is when they were reimagined yet again in a very special way in Belgium during the First World War:

Pieceworkmagazine,com: During World War I (1914–1918), mills in the United States sent millions of pounds of flour to a war-torn Belgium in 49-pound (22 kg) sacks (half a barrel) to relieve starvation. Author Loris Connolly details how Belgians reused the bags to make simple clothing, but also heavily embellished them with “embroidery, paint, handmade lace, and beads” and returned hundreds of these “art flour sacks” to the United States as thank-you gifts.”

Ahhh, the humble flour sack…

 

 

 

 

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With Love to Canada

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Fly Away Snow Goose

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What can I say in these harrowing times? I love Canada, though my visits there have been short, and now, very, very long ago. The images of the fires, and the unimaginable losses that accompany them are heart-breaking. 

The words I speak in sympathy are hackneyed; they ring hollow. Without action, words are nothing but breath. Forests, creatures, people, birds, reptiles, fish, amphibians, however distantly, I hear your cries. 

In Europe too, the world burns. Perhaps this present is why I have imagined the past so continuously all my life, wanting to step back into a time when the world, except for Nature, was silent, broken only by the speech of birds and animals, by the sounds of wind and waterfall. A time when the human creature knew only fire and the right stone to flake, when we were just one among many, a time when we believed we are all kin, that each is a necessary link in the great chain of being, and that the notion of "other" is false. 

The plain fact is that Life as we know it today could never be without everything else, beginning with Sun, Earth, Moon, I still dream of endless tundra and forests that stretch ocean to ocean, of seas of fresh water, of seasonal surges of migration-- wing and hoof--of the once Millennial snow packs, now melting. 

In reality, my small ignorant self wouldn't last a week among the tooth and claw of that world. Nevertheless, it would be a glory to witness, for what time do we humans truly have? Only the instants in which we are aware: Here, Now. 

~~Juliet Waldron

 

Superstition, Supernatural, or Simply a Case of Writer's Block By Connie Vines

According to Wikipedia, 

Superstition and the supernatural are often grouped together, but they refer to different phenomena. The supernatural refers to forces, entities, or phenomena that exist outside of the physical laws of nature (e.g., spirits, magic, or miracles). Superstition, on the other hand, is the belief that certain unrelated behaviors or objects can directly influence these supernatural forces, luck, or destiny.

Charles Dickens (1812–1870) carried a navigational compass with him at all times and always faced north while he slept—a practice he believed improved his creativity and writing.

Dr. Seuss: The author and illustrator Theodor Seuss Geisel (1904–1991), better known as Dr. Seuss, kept an immense collection of nearly three hundred hats. When facing writer’s block, Dr. Seuss would go to his secret closet and choose a hat to wear until he felt inspired.

 Truman Capote refused to begin or end a piece of writing on a Friday.

 J.K. Rowling’s superstition is to hold off titling a piece until it is complete. She said on Twitter: “I only type the title page of a novel once the book is finished.”

✎ 🖳

To non-writers, these behaviors must smack of obsessive-compulsive disorder. 

But to those of us struggling at the keyboard to create something worthwhile, these quirks can make the difference between a productive day or one that ends in despair. 

 

There's more to writing than hoping to learn the secret of someone else’s magic formula.

The magical formula comes from within.

It's a spark of inspiration and hard work.

I find glancing out my office window gives my brain a reset. The gentle fragrance of roses and the music of my windchimes allow creativity to flow.

While individual rituals may seem like idiosyncratic quirks, all are actions in pursuit of rational goals:

(I smile when I see the word rational 😄 and rituals in the same paragraph.)

Help writers get in the frame to write

Alleviate the anxiety that prompts writer’s block or procrastination

Take care of the necessary details as a way to minimize intrusions

Provide a routine to keep a writer on track

Of course, not everyone believes in rituals. Isaac Asimov, with over 500 published books to his name, dismissed the idea as “ridiculous.”

“My only ritual is to sit close enough to the typewriters so that the fingers touch the keys,” he said.

My preparation rituals are pretty mundane, but I embrace them. A steaming cup of coffee sets the stage to log on to my PC and start typing. Music plays softly in the background, my pups are napping in their beds while I mumble dialogue... and the words flow.

Except for summertime.

Summer brings high temps, winds, and wildfires.

Last year, the neighborhood was placed on fire watch.

Fingers crossed, this summer will be uneventful, boring, with an occasional bit of cloud cover.

Look who wandered in as a visitor

https://www.audible.com/pd/Lynx-Audiobook/B0FK6K51

Lynx (Rodeo Romance, Book 1) is available in audio and eBook

ALL My books are available at your favorite online vendor. And Barnes and Noble brick-and-mortar stores.

Happy Reading,

Connie

The deadly shiver may not be a myth after all - by Vijaya Schartz

Award-winning series, action, adventure, alien planet, strong heroines, brave heroes
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I follow a few scientific groups for sci-fi research and recently came upon an interesting tidbit. A study about the shiver, the frisson, the sensation crawling across your back when you are exposed to extreme cold, or when you come inside from the heat with sweat on your skin and feel the icy blast of AC as you step into the grocery store. We’ve all experienced it in this superhot summer.

As it happens, that electric sensation on the skin surface constricts the blood vessels, slows the flow of blood, and temporarily suppresses your body’s ability to fight infections…

Rapidly transitioning between hot and cold environments and inhaling dry, cold air can also stress your immune system and dry out your nasal passages. This makes it significantly easier for airborne germs to enter your body.

As a consequence, if you happen to be exposed to a dangerous virus during that vulnerable time, it will find its way inside your bloodstream and hide, waiting for a moment of weakness to attack and spread.

I live in the Arizona desert, and I never liked that goosebump sensation from hot to sudden cold. Now I understand why. My body was telling me it wasn’t good for me. It’s why I keep my AC on the warmer side at home.

Scary, I know.

Action adventure on a space station with telepathic cats
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The studies do not mention the poetic frisson or the thrilling shiver you experience while reading a book, however. That’s good news.

Stay safe out there in the summer heat. And if you are relaxing at the beach or enjoying the AC inside, I recommend a few feel good action novels like these:

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Happy Reading.

Vijaya Schartz, award-winning author

Kick-butt Sci-fi Heroines, cats, romantic elements

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My Writing Career by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

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https://www.amazon.ca/Gold-Fever-Joan-Donaldson-Yarmey-ebook/dp/B00PEOSJR8

I worked off and on at various jobs for many years while raising my children and when I began taking writing courses I still had teenage children at home. I wrote some historical and travel articles and had them published in Canadian magazines. My children had left home when I got my first contract for a non-fiction travel book, which morphed into seven travel books about the backroads of Alberta, British Columbia, and the Yukon and Alaska. Travelling, researching and writing each one of those took up my days, evenings, and nights for a year between 1990 and 2000. When I finished the last one, I decided to try fiction writing and spent days in my office on the computer.

However, I found fiction writing lonely, so I also decided it was time to get a job so I would be out and about with people. I took training to be a nursing attendant, also known as residential care aide, and began working in a long-term facility on the evening shift. I also started writing my first mystery novel. Then my husband and I moved to a small acreage Vancouver Island and I got a job in a group home looking after disabled adults.

I do not like getting up to an alarm clock so I took a position in the afternoons from 4-9 pm. This gave me time during the day to work in my yard, hike, dragon boat, pick and can or freeze fruit from my trees, and of course, write. I did this for twelve years and in that time, I also wrote and had published six novels. I finally retired which gave me more time to write, but I also travelled more, sat and enjoyed the sunsets more, and visited family more. I have also published eight more books since then.

I try to write something every day, even if it is just some ideas for a scene or about someone the main character of my WIP might meet. Usually, these ideas occur in the middle of the night, so I always keep paper and pen by my bed to write this down.

     And I must be doing something right because, since I began my writing career I have had twenty-two print and e-books published and I have five more coming out in the next two years.

Artificial Intelligence vs. characters coming to life by Dean Hovey

 

As most experienced authors will tell you, their characters become old friends and much of the book is nothing more than recording their conversations. Yes, this sounds a little like I should be put on a 72-hour psych hold, but it's true. I have a vision for the book, often in outline form, which provides a sequence of events in the plot. Sometimes that's formal, like a door covered with Post-it notes. making me a "plotter". Other times it's more informal and little more than ideas bouncing around inside my head, making me a "pantser". Whether plotting or flying by the seat of my pants, the character's conversations lead me in unexpected directions. When my son-in-law asked why I didn't use an artifical intelligence program to write my books, the answer was simple: artificial intelligence doesn't know how to bring the characters to life, nor does it know a plot twist to be revealed by a conversation. Nope. AI uses what it's seen. My son-in-law said it can mimic my style, if it scans a few of my books. However, AI doesn't know what it hasn't seen. For instance, in "A Bourbon To Die For" my lead character perceives that a lot of the towns secrets are revealed to a lowly cemetery caretaker who everyone ignores because they think he's a stupid drunk. By treating the caretaker like an accepted member of the community, my protagonist is invited to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. He meets a few of the other colorful town characters, but learns little from their meeting chatter. HOWEVER, they go out for coffee and within the kidding and laughter, they key to solving the murder of a local businessman is revealed. It's not an "AHA!" moment. There's a passing comment from a bus driver about seeing the victim's car turning into the site of the murder, as it does most afternoons when the schoolbus driver is passing that location. To be honest, the bus driver doesn't realize he's just revealed a key bit of information. Nor did I understand the value of that tidbit until later in the book. I sincerely doubt the Aritifical Intelligence program would walk through the series of events, and create the group interaction among the AA members which led to that one nugget. I told my son-in-law that story and he mulled it, then explained how I would have to teach the AI program that series of events, provide the backstories of the AA members, and the outcome of their discussion. He nodded emphatically. I said, "If I'm going to do that, why don't I just write the book?" I have a weekly lunch date with a group of friends who became the AA group. I can't imagine how ChatGPT could accumulate the background I've experienced over five or six years of lunch banter, then distill it down into a few pages buried among 320 other pages. Maybe their people can put a microphone in every corner of every North American cafe, then build a hundred data centers to filter, sort, and arrange the conversations to fit a plot. Or, maybe I'll just tap into my experience and use modified versions of what I've heard and learned over several decades. My buddy Gene (a retired bus driver) thought the AA scenes were darned good. He told me he's interviewing people to play him when the book is made into a movie. Check out "A Bourbon to Die For" on the BWL website, or at your local bookstore or on Amazon.Trust me, there's no AI involved, it's all original. https://www.bookswelove.com/shop/p/a-bourbon-to-die-for?rq=dean%20hovey https://www.amazon.com/Bourbon-Die-Doug-Fletcher/dp/0228635764

Interesting Cornish Superstitions, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

A young adult haunted house story set in Nahant, Mass. Five stars from Long and Short Reviews! They were thrilled by the novella.

To purchase, click HERE Barnes and Noble, or for Amazon

I wrote many novels set in eighteenth century Cornwall and became fascinated with its myths. Two of them, Escape the Revolution and Hostage to the Revolution, were set on the wild northern coast. Cornwall covers the western region of England where tin mining was often the main occupation of the people. Many superstitions arose from this grueling work. 

Miners believed in gnomes called Knockers. They believed any strange noises in the mines were caused by the knockers, who warned of dangers to come, such as cave-ins. The knockers also caused mischief. The miners would leave them bits of their food to placate them.

The Cornish also believed in Piskies (Pixies). To avoid being tricked by the Piskies, they'd wear their clothes inside out to fool them. I'm not sure how that worked.

A scary belief was a Spriggan. They were small and ugly and they guarded treasure. If you angered one, they might kidnap your child and leave you a 'changeling'. This elf or troll might look like your child, but its demeanor would soon become strange.

Fishing was another important occupation in Cornwall. Fishermen would never count their catch. They'd chant over it first to keep the bad spirits at bay. You also could not mention the word 'rabbit' or 'minister', or whistle when onboard your boat, or it would cause you bad luck.

Giants are also part of Cornish myths. The children's story, Jack the Giant Killer is set in Cornwall. Might there be magic beans?

When my husband and I visited there the people were kind and open. And we didn't see one giant or gnome. They must have been hiding.

To find out more about me and my books.

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with one naughty dachshund.

Cupcakes and popcorn...by Sheila Claydon

 

Find my books here

In some of my books a child is one of the main characters. This is very much the case in Empty Hearts and I guess this happens because my life is very frequently taken over by grandchildren - never more than right now.

I am the non-sporty, non-competitive member of a very sporty and competitive family. Well I was until now. One week ago my 12 year old granddaughter, who lives in Singapore, came to stay for five weeks. We talk a lot over Zoom plus she has visited many times before, so she always settles in straight away and starts to tell me about her life, friends and latest interests. This time it is football. Nothing wrong with that. I know that nowadays girls play it almost as much as boys and that most primary schools have all girl teams as well as mixed teams, so I listened with interest tinged with just a little trepidation because I knew a great many countries were participating in the World Cup.

I hadn't taken much notice until now, leaving my husband to watch matches on the TV while I got on with my own life. Once my granddaughter arrived, however, that was all over! Within days I had learned the names of all the English players, what had happened at previous world cups, who was the best goalie, the best goal scorer, the best manager...even the best looking!

The next thing I learned was that because the 2026 World Cup was being hosted by America, Canada and Mexico, watching matches across different timelines meant some didn't start until 10 pm in the UK. This meant late nights (and fortunately late follow on mornings) as a keen, football playing 12 year old couldn't possibly be expected to go to bed when there was a match to watch, especially any match involving England.

Then I discovered another thing. Watching a World Cup match involves snacks. Apparently it is impossible to watch a match without popcorn and, more seriously, football themed cup-cakes. Making the cup-cakes, 2 separate batches as there were a lot of matches to watch, kept the 12 year old occupied between matches, and she did a good job. They were decorated variously with coloured icing depicting country flags, the numbers of individual players shirts, footballs and other somewhat indecipherable squiggles and stripes. Tasted good too.

Then an iPad had to be present at all times so that in the hydration breaks and half-time etc. she could text her friends to discuss, as they were all watching. Singapore is hot and humid all year. It is also a somewhere that families often live for a couple of years before moving on as jobs dictate. This means that many of her friends also have family elsewhere who they visit in the summer break, so there were texts coming in from France, other parts of the UK, Colombia, Thailand, Spain. I lost count. All I know is that across the world 12 year old children, boys and girls, were staying up late to watch the matches, some in even worse time frames than the UK. 

So now I am a seasoned football watcher who was as disappointed as the rest of my family when England were knocked out in the semi-final by Argentina. I've also eaten too much cake! Whether my newly aroused enthusiasm, now backed by at least a little knowledge, will last, I don't know. Only time will tell. In the meantime we will be able to revert to a normal bedtime.

IT BROKE THE FALL by Bonny Beswick

 

 

 

Coming soon!

 

 

 

While fireworks fill the sky on the last night of The Greatest Show on Earth, also known as The Calgary Stampede, a man with a past is shot on his front doorstep. Detectives Janice Maidstone and Scott Amble are called to the quiet suburban neighbourhood. Love has many forms, but which one led to an innocent man’s death?

As far as police work goes, Janice can’t imagine working with a better partner than Scott. The problem is, it’s a race against time, as one or both of them may soon follow their hearts and seek new lives outside of the city.

***

 

 

Available!

 

 The Aquamarine Necklace: A Janice Maidstone Mystery, by Bonny Beswick — Books We Love Publishing Inc.

I’ve spent the last few months editing and revising a couple of manuscripts. One was “What Love Made Us Do”, which will be out on shelves in the near future. The other two are women’s fiction (leaning towards historical romance) that I will be self publishing later this summer. But weeks of editing has sapped my creative energy! As in the past, I have turned to developing some short fiction to cleanse my soul of Oxford comma corrections, finding misplaced modifiers, repairing split infinitives and fixing too much tell, not show.

Most of my short stories fall outside my normal genre of police procedural murder mysteries and historical romance. The one I’m dropping into this month’s blog ventures someplace I rarely go – humour.

I hope you enjoy it.

IT BROKE THE FALL

One long ear swivelled to keep an eye on me. Otherwise, old Clem stood still as a fencepost.

Dad called over from his favourite bench by the barn door. “Keep yer teeth together.”

Why would he say that? At breakfast, he said Clem was over his bucking days. He said Clem had seen the error of his ways.

A few months ago, we’d bought a couple of mules from an outfitter that was going out of business. One was Clem. The other was almost identical except for a tiny white spot on the back of his right ear.

Clem and Pickens were gentle creatures, bomb proof when carrying a pack, the outfitter said, but they’d never been broke to ride. Shouldn’t be a problem, though, he promised.

Well, first off, Clem took exception to that promise and a saddle brought out the worst in him. He invented a whole new style of bucking, until  like Dad said, he finally settled down.

So, this fine morning, after mucking out fourteen horse stalls and scraping the manure into a pile in the corner of the pasture, I figured I’d go for a ride and check the new heifers down the valley.

The ride would do Clem good, I thought, so I saddled him up in the barn, where it was cool and dark, out of the bright morning sun. His big ears twitched when I snugged up the cinch, and I thought maybe the flies were bothering him.

He followed me fine out of the barn and it took me awhile for my eyes to get used to the sun beating down on us. I was still squinting when I put my foot in the stirrup. Just as I swung my leg over his back, grey matter in my noggin registered that his right ear had a spot of white on it that wasn’t there yesterday. At the same time, my ass connected with the saddle, Clem, who wasn’t really Clem, but Perkins, the  mule that wasn’t broke to ride, ducked his head between his knees and exploded.

I hadn’t clenched my teeth like Dad had told me to, so on the first jump, my jaws clashed together so hard I figured I’d be seeing my dentist real soon.

Pickens must have taken bucking lessons from Clem because he was good. Not just crow hopping, but launching straight up, snapping back with a hard right turn, and settling into a run no mule should be able to do. They’re just not that fast.

He had the bit in his teeth; I’d lost one rein. This wasn’t going to end well ‘cause, if I’m honest, I’m not that good a rider.

Then he stopped. No fancy sliding stop. Just planted his feet, and I swear, put his head down to make sure nothing was in the way when I sailed by.

Maybe Pickens was making a point that he didn’t appreciate getting turned into a saddle horse. But in his heart, he was a good mule; they always take care of their person. Where did he plant his feet? Right in front of the still steaming, soft pile of manure and straw that came out of the stalls.

When I finally cleaned off my face enough to look up and not see stars, he had his nose almost touching mine, as if to say, Well, at least it broke the fall.

Decades by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthors #MFRWAuthors

 

Today has allowed me to finish nine decades of living here.  Have enjoyed and not-enjoyed much but overall, it's been great.

Decade 1 1936 to 1946 - Busy time for me growing up, learning how to read and write. Also during this time, I learned how to tell stories as evenings found the neighborhood children gathering on the porch and steps of several houses. We told ghost stories. Also learned Morse code and messaged a friend at night from my porch roof to hers until the neighborhood watch stopped us. This was during WW 2.

Decade 2 1946 - 1956 - The time of learning, Became a nurse and started writing. Moved around a bit with my husband to Ohio, Oklahoma and Texas and back to Pittsburgh. Started a family during these years. Four children. Three by birth, One by adoption.

Decade 3 1956 - 1966 = Moving around a bit . Settled in Nyack a town when i first came to visit a friend knew this was where I must live.

Dcade 4- 1966 - 1976 = Wrote my first novels and went on to pen many more. Children growing up.

Decade 5 1976 - 1986 Mainly writing and joined a group of local writers who became my friends. Group has changed over the years but some have been with us for a long time.

Decade 6 1987 -1997 - A lot of writing and meetings with other writers here or at conferences around the country. Florida, Virginia, California, Chicago among other places

Decade 7 1997 - 2007 - much writing done Children moving and changing their lives.

Decade 8 2007 - 2017 - Mainly writing man making friends with other writers.

Decade 9 2017 - 2026 - Much the same with writing and being with family and friends.

And so... the end is near, by J.C. Kavanagh

The award-winning Twisted Climb series can be found here: 

https://www.bookswelove.com/shop/series/the-twisted-climb

Well, my year's long sailing adventure is coming to an end. 

Am I sad... or relieved? Hmmm.  

I guess it's a bit of both.

Me and my partner, Ian, sailed from our home port in Ontario last July. Since then, we've travelled 6,500 nautical miles (10,461 kms) to the Bahamas and back. Our journey has taken us through Nor'easters, gale-force winds, ocean thunderstorms, dirty/slimy canal locks, hordes of nasty knats, gazillions of biting flies, non-functioning toilets (that was NOT FUN), anchoring and docking systems that failed, etc., etc.

The challenging parts:

Storms. Batten down the hatches! (But check out that water colour :)

What?
Swimming/snorkelling/foil-boarding activities take on a new meaning when you discover
that the Bahamas is famous as the shark capital of the world...  

Winds and winds and more winds. Our boat is the green dot in Bahama's Eleuthera chain of islands. Normal winds are bluish or green in colour. Dark red denotes gale-force winds. The white streaks show the wind direction. Oh, the excitement during those few days!

Beauty after the storm. I've never seen an X-shaped rainbow before.

The best parts:

When we arrived at our destination, well, the stresses caused by weather/boat challenges were overcome by the incredible, natural beauty that is the Bahamas. There, you'll find the bluest blue waters surrounded by the cleanest sandy beaches. The scenery is postcard perfect.  Ahh... you can't help but transition the tension out of your brain, feel it creep across your shoulders, then slither behind your back until it drops between the crack, so to speak. Yes, the Bahamas is truly a slice of paradise on earth.

A Twisted Climb moonscape.

Spectacular sunsets.

Hiking on my favourite island.

Our favourite anchorage in the Exumas.

"Is the tide going to reach my chair?"

Ian caught his first tuna! Do ya think he's happy?

In Canadian waters - the new Gordie Howe bridge is ahead.

We have so many fantastic memories from our adventure and have made so many new friends. It truly was the trip of a lifetime. We are blessed.

Until next time, stay safe, and don't forget to tell the ones you love that you love them.

J.C. Kavanagh, author of
The Twisted Climb - A Bright Darkness (Book 3) Best YA Book FINALIST at Critters Readers Poll 2022
AND
The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends (Book 2) voted BEST Young Adult Book 2018, Critters Readers Poll and Best YA Book FINALIST at The Word Guild, Canada
AND
The Twisted Climb,
voted BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers Poll
Voted Best Local Author, Simcoe County, Ontario, 2021
Novels for teens, young adults and adults young-at-heart
Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com

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