Remember that contest I entered over at Watershed Voice?

It’s up now! If you have a minute, check it out.

Let me know what you think. 

 https://watershedvoice.com/2024/12/20/tereasa-bellew-a-new-beginning/

You can also listen to my interview on their podcast.

https://watershedvoice.com/podcast/keep-your-voice-down/

New Books- Old Books, and characters to good to let go.

 New books. Old books. Characters too good to let go.

 

 Have you ever opened the pages of a book and discovered people you love? Individuals cut from the same cloth so to speak. You can even imagine yourself hopping in the car to drive over for a visit?

 

Certain books touch our lives so profoundly they find a forever home on our bookshelves. Books we know will be read again whenever our need to be with the characters gets so strong you simply must pull up a chair and dive back into their world. Perhaps to experience the danger or warmth we enjoyed during our time together. 

 

Today I'd like to introduce you to a few folks I’ve come to love.  Some are funny, handsome, and some just downright nasty.

  

Mr. Perfect by Linda Howard

***** 

Jaine Bright and her girlfriends create a list of qualities each woman imagines a great catch should have and come up with Mr. Perfect. Some specifications on the list are caring, warmhearted, faithful, and reliable. The list takes on a life of its own sizzling throughout the community. It even winds up in the local newspaper. 

In the meantime, Jaine's noisy neighbor cruises her quiet neighborhood in a muffler-missing Pontiac rumbling like thunder all hours of the night disturbing her peaceful slumber and keeping her awake. To top it off, he hates cats. Hates the tiny paw prints trailing the hood of his car.  

 It's fun to watch as Jaine goes head-on with the guy, who just so happens to be an undercover cop. That’s right. And it's a good thing too because this list she’s devised has pissed off a certain somebody who doesn’t think there should be such a list as Mr. Perfect. When one in the group is murdered, the list is no longer a laughing matter. 

Another is Iron House by John Hart

 *****

  I stumbled across this book while waiting for a tire rotation at a local store. Whenever there is time to kill, there's time to read, so I hit out for the book section. I picked up a thick book with a dark cover and was pulled into the story about two orphan brothers housed at Iron Mountain Home for Boys. Julian, the younger and weaker of the two survives only because of Michael's fierce protection and strong fists. When a boy is brutally murdered at the institution only one can take the blame. Michael fled the orphanage taking the blame with him and leaving Julian behind. 

This pulled at my heart so much that I returned for the book and devoured it in record time. As someone who's grown up with an older brother, I know there is nothing we wouldn't do for each other. So, despite the passage of time, sibling bonding is forever. And so it is with Michael and Julian. There's also a Mob boss who nurtured Michael through the ranks and a jealous son who goes to great lengths to destroy the life he's tried to achieve. 

This book is big, giving the author time to dig deep into the past lives of both boys, now grown men. And some of their baggage isn't nice. 

I have many, many more keepers. It's what led me to write in the first place. To be able to create my own universe, my own friends. That moment when I step into another place and time with characters who dare to say the outrageous or do the unthinkable. In other words, not afraid to step out of their comfort zone. 

My keeper shelf wouldn't be complete if I didn't include this particular book. 

Pippi Longstocking, by Astrid Lindgren

What can I say about this story? Only that it introduced to me the most outrageous character my young eyes had ever read. I was probably eight years old when I first read Pippi Longstocking. She lives in a house she calls Villa Villekulla. Her new pals, Tommy and Annika, live next door and have the most wonderful adventure's together. Pippy also has several animals like her monkey, Mr. Nillsson, and a horse she capable of lifting with just one arm! Several more books reveal Pippi's father is the king on an Island. Years later, after television progressed, we traveled with her to visit him on the island in living color! 

When Pippi first met Anika and Tommy she proclaimed herself a thingfinder. 

And years of collecting fascinating treasures I discovered that I, too, am a thingfinder, just like Pippi. 

Books find their way into our lives many times, forever. 

What do you have on your keeper shelf? 

Beautiful fall day

 

Hi Everyone! 

So much to catch up on. First, it's been a beautiful summer and even lovelier fall.

This is the rural road I live on.

Literally.

I love walking it whenever I can to the corner dairy farm.

When time and energy are on my side, I continue to the top of the hill, 

roughly about 1 1/2 miles. The road has a steep incline, very shaded and untraveled.

It reminds me of the thick forest Dorothy Gale from Kansas, 

along with the Scarecrow and Tinman dared trespass through

when they met the cowardly lion.

I have some photos of this year's fall color tour I'll try and upload. 

They're on the phone and I'm here, on the PC. I've got to figure out how 

to get them in one spot. : ) 

To let you all know I'm still writing,

I thought I'd share a heartfelt poem I wrote the other day.

                                         The little girl

          I saw a girl outside today, while she was jumping rope.

          With skinned-up knees and tangled hair, no buttons on her coat. 

          She sang in rhyme and skipped a beat to slapping on the ground.

          And counted as she played the game, abandoned that,

          then found a swing.

          She pumped herself into the clouds, still singing silly songs.

          I knew each word before she spoke, the lyrics loud and strong.

          I took the path she walked to school, now overgrown and small.

          The curves and hills, the rambling creek, no distance here at all.

          I strolled along her daily route and found beneath some trees,

          The tiny house where she had grown, a sacred place

          the girl called home.

           A sagging porch with crumbling steps, through dirty window glass,

           I held my breath and peered inside, a restful peace at last.

           I heard the sound of laughter and felt a swell of love.

           With eyes yet closed, I held her tight.

           The little girl...was me.