"Ooooklahoma, where the winds come sweeping..." Enough! By Stuart R. West

Well, I imagine there aren't too many Okies singing that beloved song now.

Last week, a devastating, incredible wind storm blew through eastern Oklahoma. Some of you, not from the Midwest, might be scoffing, saying, "Oh my, Stuart, what's wrong? Afraid your hair will muss?"

A) I don't have any hair; B) people underestimate the power of wind.

How strong was it? It blew over a semi on the Turner Turnpike. Over 87,000 people were without power. One of the water suppliers lost some of their pumps, putting their customers on rations. A mobile home with a dog inside it was flattened (miraculously, the dog's okay). Finally, everywhere you look, trees are down, houses destroyed, people's lives in turmoil. And the local tree trimmer guys are set for life. The remnants of a war-torn battle zone.

Sadly, my inlaws were affected. The storm plowed through Broken Arrow, next to Tulsa, in Nature's indiscriminate and bullying way. (All photos are from their yard).

They live on a vastly wooded three acres and over half of their trees are down, some having fallen on the house. Karma smiled on them, though. Miraculously, the house is undamaged. My mother-in-law was out when the storm blew through but my father-in-law was at home. Apparently, he'd had no idea it'd happened. Maybe he had his TV headphones on. I'm sure when he went outside, though, he was in for a shock. Anyway...maybe it's good karma paying them back for the nice things they do. But the clean-up, ay-yi-yi!

My wife packed up her loppers and headed down. Her brother brought the chainsaw, his wife supplied tea and lemonade making skills. Unfortunately, I couldn't go because I wasn't supposed to make long car trips. Recovering from "major" surgery, don't you know. (Whew. Dodged that bullet).

But the clean-up crew could only do so much. One of the downed trees was thicker than a giant's thumb. No chainsaws could even begin to bite the bark. 

My inlaws had an estimate. Crikey. I need to get into that line of work. Sadly, the guy says he'll have to cut down another tree to get his truck into the backyard. Headache after heartache for them.

Still, the house is intact. So is their health. Unlike many other Oklahomans. My prayers and well wishes go out to them.

Never underestimate the power of wind. You can't do anything about it, I'm just sayin'. (And I never want to hear that happy song about Oklahoma wind again.)

Speaking of Oklahoma, my book Ghosts of Gannaway may take place in the fictional town of "Gannaway," but don't be fooled. It's loosely based (minus the ghosts, natch) on the town of Picher, Oklahoma, another nature destroyed town. Read it and weep and pull the covers up over your head!

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE!

 

It's August! How did that happen? by Nancy M Bell

Seems like it was just yesterday it was June and the light was growing stronger. Suddenly I realize it's the middle of August. The birds are starting to flock, the caragana peas are popping all over the place and the light is drawing in a little closer every day. Hours of daylight shortening as we move toward the longest night in December.

It's been busy. Last month I shared my lovely day at the Stephan G Stephansson House reading poetry and enjoying this amazing historical site. This month I have just returned from presenting and enjoying the Calgary writers festival When Words Collide. What a wonderful experience. Seven hundred writers and fans all crammed into one hotel for three days. So much creative energy. I did a Blue Pencil cafe for eight writers and totally impressed by the quality of the word I was presented with. If you feel inclined you should check out their site and consider joining us for next year.

One exciting thing that happened at When Words Collide is that Books We Love announced the upcoming series- Canadian Historical Brides. This is a series of thirteen books, one set in each province and territory. Each book has a different author who will chose a historical event to center her story around and a bride who figures in the story line. The cover art I have seen so far is marvelous.
My own contribution to the series is book four which is set in Ontario in the WW1 era. The title is His Brother's Bride and is based very loosely on elements of my grandparents' story. After all what do we know better than our own family stories. There is always bits and pieces we can pluck out, turn in our hands and use in our stories.

I love the cover the Books We Love talented cover artist has created.

The first book in the series will release in October of 2016 and is set in Saskatchewan, book two releases in November 2016 set in the Yukon, book 3 releases December 2016 set in Alberta at the famously haunted Banff Springs Hotel. My contribution is book four and will release in February 2017. The rest of the series will release at two month intervals so keep your eyes peeled you won't want to miss a single book in this series.

Til next month, stay well, stay happy.

World Building For All Genres - Part 1 - Janet Lane Walters #worldbuilding #tone #voice

  

PURCHASE FROM AMAZON

World Building For All Genres.

“Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly.” That’s how I feel when I start a new story. What a writer does is begin a web of dreams and invite readers to share their vision. No matter what your genre or subgenre you’ve chosen the need to make the dream as enticing as possible.

How many write strictly contemporary romance? Do you add elements of mystery, suspense or a touch of the supernatural?

How many write only historical with no additions? Do some of you add touches of mystery, suspense or paranormal to your stories?

How many write paranormal stories? Are there elements of mystery, suspense or romance in your tales?

How many write young adult? Do the elements mentioned above creep into your stories?

No matter what genre you’ve chosen with or without added elements, you need to spin your web of dreams with care. Why?

My contemporary, historical, mystery, or paranormal won’t be the same as yours.

This brings me to a point for you to take away with you. We hear a lot about voice and tone. Are they the same thing? I don’t think so.

Voice belongs to the author and is influenced by the author’s education, life experience, social status, where they grew up, careers and those symbols that reoccur in their stories. I once heard Debra Dixon speak on the writer’s voice and realized certain elements frequently crept into my stories.

Tone belongs to the story. Each genre or subgenre has a particular aura. After picking up a historical romance, in the first few paragraphs, a reader should be drawn into that particular time period. He or she should recognize the genre. I don’t mean the little heading stating Scottish Highlands, 1426. I mean words like Bagpipes droned. Kilts swirled. The clang of broadswords filled the air. These are the kind of words that shout, this is a historical.

I once read a blurb for a book that sounded interesting. Wish I could remember what attracted me to buy. The book was billed as a romantic suspense with a touch of paranormal. I seldom write suspense but I enjoy reading them. Three chapters into the book and I found no suspense, no mystery, no paranormal bits. I could have stopped reading after the first page. The pacing read like a cozy romance and a non-fiction tome on the television industry.

So let’s look at some examples of the tones of some genres. Some of the stories will be my own.

Liara closed the Lore of the Jewels. Everyone knew the ruling Jewel was Black. Her foster mother had given her the book on her last name day. Tana’s insistence that she learn the legends puzzled Liara. What use were these mythical tales to one who might never hold a Jewel?

            YA From The Quest For The White Jewel by Janet Lane Walters

Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy pushed his way through the crowd gathered at the entrance to the modest office building. Murder always drew a crowd in New Your City, even in respectable neighborhoods.

            Mystery from Murder on Lexington Avenue by Victoria Thompson.

When two gentlemen are closely related by blood, they do not exactly address each other with formality. In this case, however, the gentlemen in question were first cousins once removed. The younger had come from nowhere to inherit a title and fortune the older had assumed would be his and their relationship had been formally announced moments after they had come within a sword slice of killing each other.

            Historical from The Rake by Mary Jo Putney.

He crouched in the cemetery that embraced three sides of the hillside parking lot across from Bradley Memorial Hospital. A massive family marker shielded him from view, yet allowed him a clear view of the steps, the street and the doors of the Emergency Room. Dark clouds slid across the surface of the moon. Lights, set high on poles around the perimeter of the lot sent finger shadows groping among the cars.

            Suspense from Code Blue by Janet Lane Walters

Andrew Sinclair circled the room like a caged tiger. He tried to relax but one look at the bed and he felt a stab of guilt so deep it made him physically ill. He wanted to punish himself so he gazed again at the delicate lines of her naked form outlined beneath the white sheet. The morning sun cast an ethereal glow over her face that made her look like an angel. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. Her skin felt like satin.

From Caitlan’s Choice by Kat Attalla

On a world that was one of a number in an alternate time stream in a country known to its people as Khaddershai, there was a sudden shimmering in the air. It was late morning at the end of spring when a portal opened. Two men came through dressed in clothing that was hard to look at directly, riding non-descript bay horses.

            From The Questing Road by Lyn Mc Conchie

Oh, what a life.....

Summer time is such a refreshing time, isn't it? Hot, hazy days and cool, starry nights. I write this blog on my 36' Catalina sailboat, sailing away from the Bad River near the northern point of Georgian Bay. The Bad River is a good place, contrary to its name. It's one of my favourite sailing destinations - clear, clean water, cliffs, rapids and fish. Lots of fish. 'Course, none on my hook. Well, none big enough for a meal. That's OK. I'm good with catch and release. We've sailed about 150 miles in a week and it's time to re-supply ice and a few staples, in the quartz mountain town of Killarney. And a dash into the liquor store. Talk about convenient - the liquor store is located on the Bay and boasts a wooden dock big enough for a couple of boats AND a seaplane. One more week on the water and then back to reality.

My first book signing for The Twisted Climb

My adventures in the publishing world continue and sometimes I have to pinch myself to ensure I'm not dreaming. Last week, I held my first book signing at the annual Potato Festival near my home. The booth location was excellent - beside the Arts Council studio on the main street - and a feature article in the local newspaper helped drum up interest. When the day was over, I sold and signed one book every eight minutes. Oh, what a day!
The Twisted Climb is begging for a sequel, in my mind, anyway. The outline has been started and the tentative name is: The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends.

Hey, Books We Love bloggers - I did not get any advice about how to persuade family and friends to purchase the eBook. If you recall, in last month's blog I suggested the closed-wallet people were cheap tards. That's a tard without the bas.
What say you?

A pangolin life

A pangolin, the only scale covered mammal in the world, would probably have a great life, just hanging around and sucking up pesky ants and termites, if third-world countries would leave them alone. Pangolins are found in hot climates including areas in Africa, Thailand and the Philippines.  However, archaic, mumbo-jumbo superstitions, propagated by black marketeers, hold the pangolins' fate in jeopardy as they are slaughtered by the thousands. The creatures are being hunted and killed for their scales and meat and as a result, they are being eaten to extinction. It is my sincere wish to publish my picture book series about pangolins and I hope that my movie script will see the light of a movie screen projector and help save the pangolins.
They should have a life, too.

J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb

Books We Love's Tantalizing Talent ~ Author Betty Jo Schuler

ABOUT BETTY JO. Hmm . . . what can I tell you? I do what I love and love what I do, and for me, that would be? Write, of course.  I started out by self-publishing a diet book and became a very busy and happy freelance writer for magazines. There were many exciting moments, a Star photographer coming to photograph me and the food from one of the diets I wrote for them, TV interviews. I loved it but meanwhile I’d married and earned my degrees to become an elementary teacher. So, it was natural for me to write for children’s magazines and my first published book was Ice Cream for Breakfast.  That’s when I started writing YA books and my favorite genre yet, contemporary romance. And that’s when I took early retirement from teaching to pursue a career. And we moved from Indiana to sunny Florida.I’m happy to have found a “home” at Books We Love and its’ wonderful publishers and authors. I invite you to visit me there. http://bookswelove.net/authors/schuler-betty-jo/

Contemporary Romance Novels:   Male Wanted, Love in a Small Town, Finding Freedom, Impossible Dreams, Betty Jo Schuler Special Edition

Young Adult and Tweens:   Heart Strings; No Rain, No Rainbows; Mystic Mansion, Dare to Dream, How Not to Date a Hollywood Star, Take My Family, Please.

I love romantic comedy. Hence, Male Wanted 

Amazon

Taylor Gayle advertises in The Town Crier for a male to date, but Max Stuart misprints her ad to indicate she’s looking for a “sadomasochistic male to mate” and includes her address. To atone for his mistakes, Max becomes her live-in protector. Now, who’s going to protect this high school librarian from the unbelievably sexy newspaper editor? And who’s going to save Max from this feisty Plain Jane’s charms?

Take My Family Please 

Amazon

Lacy Gingham’s family members are middle class eccentrics and Eric Vanderhorst’s are staid upper crust. Read “crazy” opposite “snooty” and add that Lacy and Ric get together under false pretenses, and get set for a bumpy ride to love when the truth comes out.

  

http://bookswelove.net/authors/schuler-betty-jo/

Weekly Winner ~ Get Fired Up For Summer Contest

Leslie Crosbie wins a copy of Heart Throb by Janet Lane Walters.

Leslie, please email bookswelove@telus.net 

to claim your prize. 

Congratulations!

Books We Love

Find the contest details here

 

Get Fired Up For Summer with 

Books We Love!

Gremlins and the Big Countdown by Sheila Claydon

Eighteen months ago I spent almost half a year in Sydney, Australia. I was there to help care for my youngest granddaughter. She was six months old when we arrived and just a few weeks shy of her first birthday when we left.  During that time she made friends with my friends thanks to her almost daily appearance on my facebook page and then it was all over and, as with any family separated by thousands of miles, we knew it would be a while before we saw her again.

I left with far more than happy memories though, I left with material for the book which eventually became Remembering Rose (Mapleby Memories Book 1), published June 30, 2016. Although the story has absolutely nothing to do with my trip to Australia, some of the characters do. The heroine, Rachel, is a new mother, and at the start of the story, Leah, her little girl, is a few months old. Then there's Daniel, the new Dad.  None of these characters are my family, nor is the story anything like theirs, but watching them learning to become parents and adapt to the changes a baby brings to a partnership helped me to develop the story.

Now, with the book finished and out there, we are all going to meet up again, only this time in the UK. The whole family are coming to England for 9 weeks and we are beyond excited. Unfortunately our excitement has attracted the attention of the gremlins who lurk silently in corners, always on the look out for an opportunity to cause mayhem. With us they hit the jackpot and the past couple of weeks have been a chapter of incidents and accidents. First I cut the sole of my foot sufficiently badly to have to visit the Accident & Emergency Department at our local hospital to be stitched up. Then, while I was recovering, the gremlins moved in.

The first thing they attacked was the cooker. One day it cooked a fine roast dinner for six, the next day nix, nada, not a flicker.  Call out charges and repairs for a 12 year old cooker were deemed not worth it so we ordered a new one. Then they set their sights on the refrigerator, putting it into deep freeze mode so that not only was everything rock solid,  the ice overflowed onto the kitchen floor, so a new fridge it had to be. Finally it was the dishwasher's turn. A gremlin leak did it. Thankfully our local supplier has assured us that all three items will be delivered and fitted on Monday, three days before our visitors arrive.

With this problem solved we turned our attention to the bedrooms because we have to accommodate a cot plus two and occasionally four additional adults as well as sleepovers from older children. That's when we discovered the gremlins had moved upstairs and pushed the bottom out of one of the drawers in the chest-of-drawers. They had also broken the loft ladder and made sure the shower head sprang a leak in solidarity with the solar panels on the roof, so now we have to drain the boiler on Monday so the plumber can repair the roof. The other things we can cope with ourselves even though this now includes the garden pond which, with a little invisible help from our gremlin invaders, has suddenly decided to seep water, exposing a very unattractive plastic liner instead of its usual pretty pebbles and stones. Then, in what I hope was their final act before leaving, they pushed one of the kick boards under the kitchen units adrift and now it needs new fitments.

Everything will be mended or replaced before our visitors arrive but at this rate it would have been cheaper to fly to Australia ourselves! It's not as if we treat our house and belongings harshly either, so, gremlins apart, maybe it's an age thing. Almost all of the broken items were around 12 years old, dating from when we had our kitchen re-fitted. They have all been well cared for and look as good as new. It's just the innards that have perished, so does this mean that 12 is the optimum number of years we can expect from anything nowadays?

I'm not going to tempt providence and say there's nothing else left to go wrong. Instead I am going to sort out all the clothes and baby items my daughter has been storing in her loft for this visit. Already we have a baby seat in the car, a stroller in the porch, a highchair in the kitchen and a full toy box in the conservatory. The bathroom has plastic ducks and frogs again, and there are several drawers of freshly washed hand-me-down clothes waiting for our little granddaughter plus, most important of all for anyone connected with Books We Love, a big basket full of picture books. It's like a leap back in time to when our older granddaughters were babies, and before that to when our own children were young. Now all we need is the energy to run a full household again after years of being on our own.

My next book, a follow up to Remembering Rose, and only started in my head so far, will include young children, so I guess I am already expecting to pick up pointers from my youngest granddaughter for the book I will start in October when she returns to Australia. In the meantime I only have four days left in the big countdown but please don't tell the gremlins or they will find something else to break.

Sheila's books can be found at Books We Love and on Amazon

She also has a website and can be found on facebook

Road Tripping USA Part Eight by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

www.joandonaldsonyarmey.com

 

Author’s Note

I belong to Angels Abreast, a breast cancer survivor dragon boat race team in Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada. Every four years the International Breast Cancer Paddlers Commission IBCPC) holds an international festival somewhere in the world. In the spring of 2013, my team received a notice that the IBCPC had chosen Sarasota, Florida, USA, to hold the next festival in October 2014.
     We decided to attend and while the other members were going to fly down, tour around some of the sites and head home I wanted to see more of the country and meet some of the people. My husband, Mike, and I drove from our small acreage at Port Alberni, British Columbia, on the Pacific Ocean, to Sarasota, Florida on the Atlantic Ocean.
     Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the people I would meet nor the beautiful places I would see nor the adventures I would have on our ten week, 18,758km (11656 mile) journey. On the thirteenth day of every month in 2016 I will post a part of my trip that describes some of the excellent scenery, shows the generosity and friendliness of the people, and explains some of the history of the country. The people of the USA have much to be proud of.

 Road Tripping USA Part Eight

In the morning I went into the McDonalds in Panama City, Florida,

 

to check emails. While I was there Mike saw a man sitting on the parking lot curb.

Mike’s Story: So there I was sitting in the motorhome all by myself because my wife had left me. The cats got tired of talking with me. I looked around and saw a guy sitting on a curb. Cats won't talk with me, wife is gone so I hobbled on my cane out to the guy on the curb. He was sitting with his head down and a cardboard sign propped beside him: Need Help, Thank You.

     He looked very depressed. I stood there. He looked up at me.
     “Hello,” he said.
     “Hello,” I said. I was in bad shape so I had a hard time rolling onto my knees, to my bum, to the ground to sit beside him. “So tell me your story.”
     He came from Tennessee to look for a job because he heard there was a lot of work in Florida. He was a painter and worked new construction. In order to get here, though, he had to sell everything. Once he arrived he found there was a lot of work but no one would hire him. First, because he was 60 years of age and they didn't think he could do the work, and secondly because he didn't have a means of transportation. He didn't own a car. There were places that would hire him if he had a car. He didn't know what to do. He doesn't have a pension to fall back on.
     I could tell he had a lot of pride. He missed his dad and phoned him once in a while. His dad is in his 80s and when he hears his son, he cries.
     I asked him why he wouldn't go home because it didn't make sense after that story and he said he didn't want his family to see him like he was, his dad, his brother, his sister. I asked him if he thought his dad would love him any more if he was the president of the US. It sounded that if his dad cried when they talked on the phone it didn't make any difference to him.
     “You should go home,” I said.
     “Maybe you're right,” he agreed. “Thank you for taking the time to sit down on the curb beside me and talk with me.
     “I wish I could help you more but I can't.”
     “That’s okay. The time you spent was lots and the talk was lots.”
     We talked some more and he said it was cold, he hated the nights sleeping out. I told him yes, I had done it myself when a teenager.
     “Sleeping out is a bugger,” I said “Where I come from you could freeze your ass off.”
     “Where are you from?”
     “Canada.”
     “Yeah,” he said. “Canada's cold.”
     “When did you eat last?”
     “Three days.”
     “That's counting today?” I asked.
     “No today is the fourth day.
     “How much would it cost to buy a meal?
     “I don’t know what to ask you for, you can eat cheap at McDonalds for $5.00.”
     “Could you have a good meal if I gave you twenty dollars?”
     “With twenty dollars I could eat for four days and I could start on my way home.”
     So I gave him twenty bucks and he thanked me. When he said he thought he should go home I said it would be a good idea because it doesn't matter how much money you have if you don't have family you don't have anything. He agreed.
     “Don’t give up,” I said.
     “I’m not giving up and I wouldn't give up.” He shook my hand. “God bless you. I'll walk you to your camper so you don’t fall down.”
     It was night when we entered Biloxi, Mississippi. We found a place to camp and the next morning drove to the Boomtown Casino. Part of it is on a barge where Mullet Lake empties into Biloxi Bay so it is considered a floating casino, a throw back to when gambling on land was illegal. To get around that law, paddle wheelers with poker games and machines plied the rivers and lakes. When the law was changed those paddle wheelers disappeared and casinos were built on land.
      We actually came out ahead on this floating casino. Mike spent $72.00 and won $100.00 and I spent $20.00 and made $30.00 so we were $38.00 ahead. We went to the buffet in the casino for lunch. It cost us $54.00 but what a meal: catfish, flounder, all the snow crab we could eat, roast beef, potatoes, shrimp, sushi, pizza, vegetables, salads and much more.
     As we drove through Biloxi, the Gulf of Mexico with soft sandy beaches was to our left. There were stately old houses to our right. We travelled about 30 miles (48km) with beside the beach. Then we crossed a bridge over St. Louis Bay with the gulf to the left and bay to right. At the end of bridge we were in St Louis and away from the water.

     As we neared New Orleans in Louisiana I asked Lola for a tourist information center. I wanted to go to one on the outskirts of the city so that we could find out where the French Quarter was and go straight there. Lola gave me about ten choices. Not knowing the city I just randomly picked one and hoped for the best. She took us right downtown.

     We didn't know where we were going but followed her directions to the Basin St. Station Tourist Information Center. We found a parking lot facing St Louis Street near the information center that charged $3.00 for a ten-hour stay or $10.00 for twenty-four hours. There were a few other vehicles and a motorhome was set up in the far corner. We paid 3.00 thinking we would only be there long enough to get our information and then be gone.
     In the center we discovered we were just a block from the French Quarter. And that we could also book a dinner cruise on the Mississippi, which we did for 7:00pm that evening. We got a map and headed out on St Louis Street to tour the French Quarter. The French Quarter is the oldest neighbourhood in New Orleans. Also known as Vieux Carre, it has been designated as a National Historic Landmark.
     As we walked down one of the streets a young lady came across the street towards us. She wore skimpy shorts and nothing else. She had painted her boobies all different colours. There was money sticking out of the waistband of her shorts and she had some in her hand. Mike got so excited that he took a picture of her.
     “That's going to cost you,” she yelled at him.
     “What?” he asked
     “It costs you to take my picture.”
     “Okay, my wife will pay.”
     “What?” I tried to hide my smile.
     Mike didn’t even look at me. He was staring at the young girl. “Yup, my wife will pay.”
     I gave her some money then took a picture of the two of them together. She didn't charge me.  As we walked away I thought, what an excellent way of make a living. Just paint your boobs and walk around in skimpy shorts collecting money. I wondered if maybe I could do the same only I would cover the seniors’ age group. I looked around and saw that there were quite a few potential customers.

     On Bourbon Street we went into a bar and ordered drinks. We had a good visit with the bartender who said he was hoping to leave New Orleans soon and pursue a different career. We continued our tour stopping in at a shop to buy bead necklaces. I wanted to take a swamp tour and we went into an agency. The man was willing to book at that time but Mike wanted to wait until the next day to see how he felt. The man said we could come early in the morning and book.

     On our way back to our camper we tried to take a tour of Cemetery #1 which was across St Louis Street from the parking lot. The gate was locked. I decided to check the next day.
     In the motorhome Mike laid down and I read. When he got up we decided we might as well stay the night in the parking lot. The cruise ended at 10:00pm and we figured we wouldn’t be getting back until around 11:00pm. Before we left at 5:00pm I went and put in another $3.00 to last us until three in the morning. We had been told that there was a trolley car we could catch to take us down Canal Street to the harbour but we wanted to walk. Mike took his cane for support.
     It was getting dark as we walked down Canal Street. It was brightly lit with lots of people, traffic, and the trolley cars going by. We arrived early at the ticket booth of the cruise. We took pictures of the cruise ship, named the Creole Queen, and then went into an outlet mall to wander around. There was a Lindt Lindor chocolate store. Each piece of chocolate was 26 cents or 150 for $44.00 dollars. Christmas was coming and those are my chocolate of choice during the holiday season. But rather than buy them and have to carry them with me on the cruise, I decided I would walk back in the morning and get some. Plus, I have absolutely no will power and I knew that if I took them with me I wouldn't have room for the meal on the cruise.
     We lined up to board the ship. We were seated and told to help ourselves to the buffet. I decided to take everything and at least taste it. I tried the chicken and sausage jambalaya although I didn't take the sausage. The rice with bean sauce and the Cajun green beans were both very spicy. The corn dish was delicious. I felt safe taking a lot of the garlic potatoes. I was told the gumbo was flavourful but not spicy and that was true. The corn muffins were sweet. For dessert there was bread pudding that tasted like a cinnamon bun with raisins. It was so good I had two helpings. There was also roast beef and Caesar salad but I didn't sample them. I can get them at home. I had water because there was either that, or an alcoholic drink or coffee and I’m not a coffee drinker.
     The meal was served between 7:00pm and 8:00pm and a three-piece band played jazz. At 8:00pm we started our cruise up the river. It was very dark and we could see the lights of New Orleans as we left. The Creole Queen is an authentic paddle wheeler. She is powered by a 24 foot (7.3m) diameter paddle wheel and made her maiden voyage in 1983. Mike and I headed outside but we were going against the wind so it was chilly. We went back inside and listened to the music. When the Creole Queen turned around we were sailing with the wind and it was quite balmy.
     I spent a lot of time out on the deck watching the water churn by and seeing the lights on shore. The river was busy even in the dark as a number of boats and barges went by. I walked to the back end and watched the paddle wheel work for a while then leaned on the railing and just enjoyed the fact that I was on the mighty Mississippi River.
     Mike talked with one of the band members. The man had been to Nanaimo when he was a member of a different band that was touring British Columbia.
     The riverboat docked at 10:00pm and Mike and I started our walk back. We went slowly and Mike had to use his cane. We decided to see the French Quarter at night so we walked to Bourbon Street again. Barricades were at the ends of the street and it was closed to traffic. All the bars and stores were open and people wandered up and down the street talking and laughing. It had the party atmosphere we’d expected to see.
     We turned onto St. Louis Street to continue our way back. It wasn't as well-lit and we were nervous. As we walked we heard steps behind us. We looked back and saw a guy who appeared to be following us. When we got to a corner we walked kitty corner to the other side. Once there we turned and stared back at him. He hesitated on his corner then left.
     As we continued to walk there was another guy behind us. We looked back a couple of times which must have made him nervous or uncomfortable because he changed to the other side of the street to walk. We got back safely just before 11:00. I went across the lot to put in three more dollars which would take us to 9:00am in the morning. There was lots more that we wanted to do like take the swamp tour, go buy my chocolates, and see the river in daylight. The only other vehicle in the lot was the motorhome. At last, a quiet night.

     At about 2:00am a tap, tap, tap woke me up. It wasn’t a knock so I didn't know what it was. Mike came up and I asked him what it was and he said there is a sheriff outside. He got dressed and went out to talk with him. Our girls were on high alert at the tap on the door and when Mike went outside they headed to the windows and tried to look outside. My window was open so I could hear what the sheriff had to say.

     Apparently there had been a break in of a motorhome somewhere in the area and he was wondering if it was us.
     “No, we’re fine,” Mike said.
     “Why are you camping here?”
     “We were told we could by someone at the information center.”
     “This is a bad area and you shouldn’t really be camping here. Criminals will look at your license plate and see that you are from Canada. They know that you won’t be carrying a gun, so you will be an easy target. Last year we had 300 murders in this area and people disappear without a trace.”
      He wondered if we had any protection because we could carry a gun in Louisiana as long as it was not hidden. At one point someone walked by on the street and the sheriff pointed to him and said that was one of the people he was warning us about.
     Once he had delivered his message he and Mike chatted for an hour about fishing, hunting, places for us to eat, and more. He said he wanted to come to Canada someday so Mike opened the outside door and asked me for my business card. Purple and Red both went and sat on the step looking at him. After I'd given him my card I went back to bed.
     As he was leaving the sheriff advised us that maybe we should find a different place to stay. He said that because of all the disasters that have happened in Louisiana over the years there are a lot of homeless people who can't get back on their feet.
     We took his warning to heart. We put Walmart into Lola, picked one and drove to the west end of the city.
     We figured we were pretty lucky. Lola directed us to the visitor centre right beside the French Quarter, the place we wanted to see, the sheriff came along and possibly saved us a lot of hassle or even worse, and then Lola got us to the Walmart to stay for the rest of the night.
     We have a saying that we live by: The Lord looks after kids and idiots and we’re not kids anymore.