“Daddy Mine” Revisited

I don’t know why, but my unfinished novel “Daddy Mine” has been on my mind a lot lately.

I decided I should revisit it this week and share a little with you.

It started as bedtime stories when my kids were little.

I wrote quite a bit of it way back then.

I just peeked at the manuscript.

Let’s just say my writing has come a long way since then.

So this evening I decided to rewrite the first few pages to share a little of the story with you.

It’s really not much more than an introduction to the main character.

Please keep in mind this is unedited writing. Much will likely change.

I’ll tell you a little more at the end.

Until then, here’s the beginning to “Daddy Mine.”


            “Sarah’s a loser!” The cadre of pretty girls came right up behind her.

            “Your uncle’s a dirty drunk bar keep.”

            Sarah kept walking home, ignoring the town girls. 

            “Your aunt is a mean old witch.”

            No objections from Sarah.

            “And your dad was a murderer!”

            Something exploded in her head.

            Sarah spun and decked 14-year-old Clara.

            Clara’s two friends jumped in and the dusty lane in Kearneyville, Colorado became a blur of punches, shoves, grabs, ripping dresses and screaming.

            Until Miss Heber, their teacher, rounded the corner.

            The girls scattered.

            Sarah gathered her books and made to run.

            “Sarah Hurdle, stay right there!”

            Sarah froze at the stern voice, torn between the rebel that wanted to run and the respectful 12-year-old girl who both feared and adored her teacher.

            “Care to explain that?”

            Her tongue froze as the words jumbled into a log jam that refused to flow past her lips.

            “You know that I cannot condone fighting, especially among young ladies.” The young teacher gently lifted Sarah’s face with a hand under her chin.

            Sarah struggled to maintain a stoic face even as a tear at the edge of her eye threatened to betray her.

            Miss Heber’s face softened as she pulled Sarah to her into a loose embrace. “You were giving those three girls a run for their money.”

            “You shoulda’ seen Clara’s face.”

            “Sarah!” Miss Heber’s scold was mild but unmistakable. “You’d better get home.”

            The two separated and the teacher looked Sarah over.

            “Your Aunt’s going to throw a fit when she sees that dress.”

            “I can handle her.” Even as she said it, Sarah dreaded Aunt Penny’s reaction.

            “See you tomorrow in class.”

            “Okay.” Sarah turned and ran down the hill to Lowtown, the section of Kearneyville below downtown where most of the saloons and gambling halls were.

            As she ran across the muddy ditch and over the train tracks, a story of slipping in the mud and tearing her dress in the fall took shape. The far side of the tracks, being in the shade still had plenty of snow in wet, hardened drifts.

            At least she could wash her hands in the snow and grab a chunk of the icy stuff to soothe her swollen knuckles.

            The summer of 1892 was just a few weeks away and she looked forward to spending her days in the woods, escaping the judgement she felt pressing around her.

            Despite it being the less respectful part of town, Sarah felt more at home in Lowtown. Music already poured from a couple of the saloons putting a bounce in her step as she passed.

            Uncle Harold and Aunt Penny’s house sat along the creek with a dozen other older run-down homes.

            Her two cousins, Jimmy and Teddy, sat on the front porch, shirtless in the chilly spring air. Each had a stick and a knife, carving what they surely thought were fierce looking spears.

            “No passin’ here ‘til you pay toll.”

            She leaned close to ten-year-old Jimmy. “How ‘bout I just tell your mama about you not showing up for school today.”

            Jimmy stared at her. “Maybe we could forget the toll if you forget about that little thing.”

            “What thing?” She walked past them and made straight for the ladder to the loft.

            “‘Bout time you got here.” Aunt Penny mixed something at the table by the old wood-stove. “Get outta your school dress and… Lord have mercy, what did you do?”

            Sarah forced tears to her eyes as she explained. “The trail is all covered in mud. You know how slick it is around the tracks.” She let Aunt Penny make up the lie in her imagination so she wouldn’t actually have to tell it.

            “Well, you’re sewing it this time. I showed you how. First, get changed and bring in some more wood.”

            “Why can’t Jimmy and Teddy bring in wood?”

            “They’re just kids.”

            “Jimmy’s bigger than me.”

            Aunt Penny glared at her.

            “Fine.” Sarah’s skinned knee stung as she flew up the ladder and ducked behind the old curtain that defined her corner of the loft.

            She plopped face first onto the thin mattress, pulling the frayed old pillow tight to herself for a moment of escape into her own little world.

            She closed her eyes and tried to bring back the distant memories of her mom and dad, imagining being hugged by them as she squeezed the pillow flat.


That’s it for the little peek into the world of Sarah Hurdle.

If you hadn’t figured it out (then my writing is worse than I thought) Sarah is an orphan in the fictional mining town of Kearneyville, Colorado in the 1890’s.

It is a middle-grade (10-14 year old readers) novel full of adventure, drama, and suspense as Sarah tries to figure out what really happened to her parents.

Let me know if you want to read on as I am toying with the idea of completing this novel.

As always, thanks for visiting!

Exciting Writing in the Nifty Fifties

All too soon, I’ll be entering my last year as a fifty something.

I can hear you –

Wow – you’re old!

Of course, I claim to be 29 with 30 year’s experience.

I must confess – I sometimes feel like I’m in my 50’s.

I just did an all-nighter with our youth group. I had no problem staying awake despite the hours of laser tag, go-cart racing, ga-ga ball and 9-square. But now, a day and a half later, I’m still sore.

Regardless of the aches and waning stamina, this has been the best decade of my life.

So far.

Each decade of my life has had it’s pains and joys, failures and triumphs.

This decade started with marriage.  I got to see three of my kids become adults. I began teaching a group of boys whom I will lead at church through their graduation in 2028.

All that is good, but one of the most exciting parts of my fifties is the fact that I started learning how to write at a higher level.

It’s an ongoing process and I admit I am breaking the rules with this rambling blog. Still, it’s been an incredible journey.

I have loved seeing these crazy ideas swimming around my head taking shape on paper.

I do have one regret.

Had I known what joy writing would bring me, I would have started when I was younger. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve enjoyed my career in technology. It’s just that I now realize what a joy that writing is.

If you are young and have been bitten by the writing bug – pursue it!

If, like me, you’re not so young anymore and have experienced that blazing urge to write – pursue it!

Some of you may have the luxury of pursuing writing in college. That’s awesome.

Most of us will never make a full-time income from writing. For us, there are still many ways to pursue our writing.

I have compiled a short list of resources for the Christian writer which I will upload to the resources page on my website (as soon as I create it).

These are just a few of the resources available to writers to learn and grow and connect to other writers, agents, and publishers.

I created this list for a Christian writers small group that I lead every other Monday evening. Anyone in the Denver area is welcome to join us. We meet every other Monday (including this Monday, Feb. 27, 2023) at 6:30pm at the Café at Barnes and Noble at 120th and Washington in Thornton, CO.

There are similar groups that meet all over the country.  They are a great place to start exploring the options available to the new writer.

Make this next decade the best in your life and if the bug has bitten you, make writing part of it!

Close Encounter of the High Voltage Kind

Southwest Virginia in the early ‘80s

 

It was just beginning to sprinkle as we started up the trail. Thinking the rain would cool off our hike on that hot August day, we happily hiked on,

blissfully ignorant

of what lay ahead.

I was one of thirty some 17-year-olds spending a week at Lynchburg College competing for scholarships. After a busy day of classes, this hike at Sharp Top on the Blue Ridge Parkway was just the diversion we needed.

Our steep mile and a half hike did indeed cool off. The sprinkles turned to rain.

We quickened our pace when we heard distant lightning. Someone said something about a cabin at the top.

The true downpour started as we approached the cabin. We all crammed into the small stone building. No one was brave or foolish enough to go out to the overlook just beyond the cabin.

We were young. We didn’t worry.

Besides, we knew there was a shuttle that would take us back down the mountain. We’d hike the quarter mile to the shuttle stop as soon as the lightning let up.

It didn’t let up.

If anything, it increased.

And the last shuttle of the day would be there soon.

Half of the people in the cabin decided they would stay put where it was safe.

I was not one of those people.

A dozen or so of us rushed out through the deluge.

I couldn’t see a thing. I just followed the person ahead of me. Lightning crashed every couple of seconds all around. I got soaked to the bone.

After a couple of minutes that seemed like a couple of hours, we made it to the bus shelter. I plopped my waterlogged self down on the bench on the far side of the shelter, glad to be safe.

Then it hit me.

Technically, it hit the shelter and the electricity ran through those of us on that far side of the bus shelter.

It was lightning.

Oh, and deafening thunder.

It was literally a pain in the rear. Very painful, in fact.

When it happened, a girl seated on the other side started screaming hysterically. Once she calmed, she explained that she saw us all light up and thought we would die.

The only casualty that I know of was my digital watch, which started flying forward in time. We were sore and soaked and had a new respect for thunderstorms.

As for those stayed in the cabin, the college had to send out another bus. They didn’t return until later in the evening.

Whether we played it safe or braved the storm, we each came home with quite the story to tell.

This story has found it’s way into many children’s and youth lessons. It even into Wil Clarey, The Impossible Summer (as told to Wil by his grandpa). My lessons and my books tend to be filled with stories like these. They tend to grab attention and illustrate a number of points.

Do you have stories?

Let ‘em out!

Write them and share them. If possible, teach with them.

Don’t let them fade in your memory.

Oh yeah, and don’t go outside in thunderstorms!

The Shortcomings of Short Stories

 

I had a blast writing my latest Christmas story, The Star of Mystery.

But it was frustrating too!

I introduced several new characters without enough words to develop them. It was also the first time most people will read a compete story about Wil Clarey.

Let’s be honest,

5-6 thousand words is not enough to do justice to the subject of autism and still tell the story. You’ll just have to read the Wil Clarey series when it gets published.

On the positive side, I was able to write a complete story and edit it (with the help of a couple of beta readers) in the space of just three weeks. It was fast and furious fun!

The purpose of my Christmas short stories is not just to share the stories but to expand my platform.

To be frank, in order to get the Wil Clarey books published, I need a larger number of followers. I say this to encourage you to follow my Facebook and Instagram pages as well as this blog.

Feel free to share the link to my stories with anyone you think might be interested.

Keep an eye on this page as I will attempt to resume my weekly blogs now that my short story writing push is over.

In case you’re interested in my longer stories, here’s the latest.

  • Wil Clarey – The impossible Summer is complete and ready for professional editors.
  • Wil Clarey – School of Hard Knocks is 80% through content edit.
  • Wil Clarey – The Mystery at the Mill is complete in rough draft form.
  • Reymons – I will restart the rewrite in a couple of weeks when I am done with the School of Hard Knocks edit. Much of the middle of the book series was written when I realized that I needed to do a lot more background and character development. My current plan to make it a three book arc. Book one will be background and development to the lead characters up to the escape from Reymons (a massive city under what is now Humphrey’s Peak in Arizona). Book two will cover the adventure of our lead characters traveling to a haven at the coast through many surprise interactions with above ground cultures. Book three will be the return to and rescue of Reymons.

If my writing piques your interest, contact me to be a beta reader.

Until then, enjoy the short stories and blogs.

Location, Location, Location

I made a wrong turn in Vegas.

I found myself on a short street under the freeway where a couple of dozen homeless people clung to the shadows. They looked sweaty and miserable.

I eventually made it to the Chick-Fil-A drive thru and enjoyed my sandwich in my air-conditioned van in the parking lot. Then I had to walk the twenty feet to the trash can.

A hot spot for dinner

113°F is brutal.

I grew a new respect for those homeless people under the freeway.

Then I knew I blew it.

Not right then and there but with several scenes in my novel Reymons. The main characters have to fly open cockpit ultralight aircraft through one of the hottest areas on the planet. I will have to rewrite the scenes to reflect the brutal desert heat that they have to endure.

I try to set my scenes in familiar areas. Sometimes that isn’t possible. In those cases, I am seeing that it is important to visit the scenes to get an idea of what would be affecting the characters.

In the desert of Nevada and Southern California, the heat would be of primary importance to the characters. In some places, the geological features may take precedence. In others, traffic or crowds.

To build depth and realism in characters, you have to know what they are sensing and bring that to the page.

This weekend, I will be in one of the towns that inspired the fictional town of Kerryville, VA. I will keep my senses alert for what my characters should experience.

And just so you know, I don’t plan on exploring the fictional depths of Humphrey’s Peak, known in the distant future as Reymons.

For some things you just have to use your imagination.

Character Interview for The Space Beyond

One of the tools I often use when writing is the Character Interview. I pretend that I am sitting down with my character(s) and ask them questions that will help me determine how they will speak and react within the story line. I did that with Ashley and Carl from The Space Beyond. It was fun so I decided to share it with you.

Spoiler alert! The interview does contain spoilers so please click on Christmas Stories in the menu and read the story before you read this. It’s less than 5,000 words so it won’t take you long.

Also keep in mind that this interview is raw writing. Only the worst mistakes have been corrected.

One final thing before you read this and after you read the story:

In hind sight, I realize that I have painted foster parents in a rather poor light in the story. Please know that I hold foster parents in the highest regard. I have been one myself and I can tell you that it can be the toughest job in the world. The vast majority of foster parents pour their hearts and souls into the kids in their care. Carl’s point of view on his foster parents is rather negative. That is not my view on foster parents.

That’s out of the way so let me introduce you to Ashley Jones and Carl Mason…

Interview with Ashley Jones and Carl Mason.

Main Characters of “The Space Beyond – A Christmas Story”

Me – We’re on the front porch of the Jones family home in Pratt, Tennessee to talk with Ashley Jones and Carl Mason after their amazing adventure.

Hi Carl and Ashley. Glad you could join me.  Can we start off with a little introduction? Just tell us a little bit about yourselves.

Carl – Hey, it’s great to be here. My name is Carl. Duh! I’m twelve and I live two houses down the road from Ashley. You can just see it over yonder, the white house with the red tin roof. I’ve known Ash since kindergarten. She’s like the sister I never had.

Ashley – You have two sisters!

Carl – They ain’t really my sisters, and they sure ain’t like you!

Ashley rolled her eyes.

Carl – Anyway, I was sayin’ before I was so rudely interrupted, We both go to Rolling Hills Middle School. It used to be Pratt Junior High. When they changed it to a middle school, everyone was joking about it being PMS so they changed the name to Rolling Hills.

Me (interrupting to stop this runaway train) – And what are you known for there?

Carl – Everything. I’m the fastest runner, the best pitcher, and the smartest thinker.

Ashley – Well, two out of three isn’t bad.

Carl – Whatcha sayin’ I aint good at? Oh yeah, I’m also the most modest!

Me – Okay, so you’re kinda the jock of RHMS?

Carl – Sure as shootin’! Oh, and I’m good at that too.

Me – At what?

Carl – Shootin’. Huntin’ too.

Ashley – He tends to overcompensate for his lack of self-confidence.

Carl – What you talking about!?

Ashley just stared at him.

Carl – Okay, I’m not really the best at most things, but I do have a good pitching arm.

Ashley – That much is true.

Me – What about you, Ashley?

Ashley – I’m Ashley Jones. I’ll be twelve next month. My parents are electrical engineers, or at least that’s what they told me before what happened last month. They moved here a few years before I was born. I’m their only child.

Me – What are you known for around here?

Ashley – I don’t know. Maybe for being different. I don’t get all gaga over boys and fashion and that stuff like some of the girls do.

Me – What kind of things do you like to do?

Carl – I forgot to say, Pa’s a foreman at the window factory. Ma stays at home ‘cause she takes care of us kids. I’m the oldest.

Ashley – Sorry, that’s the way he is. Always interrupting! Anyway, I love to read and hike and, when the wind allows, fly my kites. I can also whip his butt in most video games.

Carl – In your dreams.

Ashley – Trust me, you’re not in my dreams!

Ashley looked slightly to the side and blushed a little, clearly indicating her lie.

Me (speaking to Carl) – And I take it you like to play baseball?

Carl – And basketball and track and field. I’d like to play football, but coach says I’m too skinny.

Me – And you two are best friends?

Ashley and Carl replied at the same time.

Ashley – I tolerate him.

Doug – She tolerates me.

Me – you guys seem to have a connection. Is there anything romantic going on there?

Ashley – Heck no!

Carl – (Wrinkles his nose) With that? (Points at her).

Ashley – He’s not mature enough for anything romantic. And I have more refined taste.

Carl – I’ll have you know, half the girls in my class are pining for me.

Ashley – In your dreams!

Carl – I do have some amazing dreams.

Me – Okay, so nothing romantic, so why do you guys hang out so much together?

Carl – ‘Cause she has the better gaming console.

Ashley – And, despite his ignorance, Carl really is my best friend. I guess we’ve just known each other so long and being the only kid my age for two miles probably helped some too.

Carl – I reckon that’s true too.

Me – Do you guys like living in the country?

Ashley – Yeah! I love the peace and quiet and the sound of nature.

Carl – And the fields to practice my throwing and running.

Me – Okay, let’s move on to some hypotheticals. Let’s say you are attacked by some bad people – do you fight or run.

Carl – Fight, of course. Especially if I’m protecting someone (eyes shift to Ashley). I mean, you gotta do the right thing.

Ashley – Sometimes the right thing is to stop and evaluate the situation before jumping into an unwinnable fight (glances at Carl). But, that said, my mom taught me a lot of martial arts skills so nine times out of ten, I’m gonna fight.

Carl – She’s right about that, she’s bad ass! (Suddenly puts his hand over his mouth). Am I allowed to say that?

Me – It’s fine. You guys saw some pretty crazy things last month. Which of you is more likely to believe what doesn’t make sense?

Both – Me.

Ashley – My mom kinda prepared me with stories that I thought were from her imagination. Now I’m not so sure. Then again, Carl will believe anything so maybe he’s the more gullible.

Carl – Dang straight! That’s a good thing, right?

Me – Which of you is better at obeying your parents?

Carl – Me, you don’t cross Pa! Don’t get me wrong. He’s a good dad. But his word is law!

Ashley – My parents aren’t that strict but if they lay down the law, you know it’s for a good reason.

Me – Have your parents ever caught you in a lie?

Carl – One time, when I stole a candy bar from the Cracker Barrel. I tried to deny it but the chocolate on my shirt gave it away. I was only 7. Pa made me pay back four times what it cost.

Ashley – And gave you a whooping!

Carl – That’s a spanking. Folks around here still do that, you know. Still, you better not tell anyone. Might mess up their gig.

Me – What gig is that?

Carl – As foster parents. They need that money from the county. That’s Ma’s job.

Me – So I gather that you’re a foster child.

Carl – Me and my two sisters. Like I said, they ain’t my real sisters but they been with Ma and Pa since before I came. Little Joe is Ma and Pa’s child.

Me – What about you Ashley.

Ashley – I share everything with Mom. She’s cool. Dad can be a dork so I’m not so open with him. Still, the extent of my lying is saying I’m okay when I’m not.

Me – How well do you deal with pain?

Ashley – Physical or emotional?

Me – both.

Ashley – I can usually deal with physical pain. Mom gave me techniques to ease the suffering when I get hurt. For emotional pain – I think I’m better than average but it’s a lot tougher than physical pain.

Carl – I think I’m the opposite. It doesn’t bother me when people try to mess with my head, and I can deal with physical pain to a point and then it kinda stops me in my tracks.

Me – Do you cry easily?

Both – No.

Me – Do you have any scars from last month?

Carl – (Pulls up sleeve) You should see…

Ashley – (Stops Carl) Time will tell.

Me – What can you tell me about your adventures last month?

Ashley – Nothing, we’re sworn to secrecy until it’s published.

Carl – What she said – other than it was epic!

Me – Okay, can’t wait to read it on Christmas Eve!

An Old Guy Can Write YA?

In the hills of North Carolina stood a little country church in bad need of a paint job. The deacons got together and decided to hire a local painter. The painter arrived with a pickup filled with paint, rollers, brushes, and ladders and got to work.

The job went great and it looked like he would be able to finish in one day. When he got to the steeple, he realized that he had only one gallon left. He debated whether to run into town to buy more paint, but he would never finish that day if he did.

He had a solution. He had two gallons of thinner. Soon he had that one gallon stretched into three. Like Jesus and the loaves, he thought.

He got out his tallest ladder and proceeded to coat the steeple with the thinned paint. Nobody will ever tell the difference way up here. He was nearly finished when the sky turned dark. Thunder rolled and the painter sped up.

Just as he was making the last stroke, lightning hit the steeple and a loud voice thundered from heaven, “Repaint! And thin no more!”

Some of you started to read that joke and said, “Not this one again.” Some of you got to the end and laughed. Most young readers, if they got to the end, went, “Huh?” That’s the challenge I face as an older writer trying to be relevant to today’s young readers.

            Is it even possible?

            Yes!

So how does this 50 something writer stay relevant to today’s young people? Here’s what works for me.

            First – Hang out with young people!

I have an unfair advantage in that department right now. I currently have three teenage kids at home (we started late). There have been teens in our home for eight years now!

That’s not enough. Teen kids often treat their parents like they’re from another planet (which we are, in a manner of speaking). For most of my adult life, I have remained involved in either children’s or youth ministry. I’ve gotten to know many young people and they have shared many of the secrets of their generation.

You can also volunteer at school libraries, Big Brother/Big Sister programs, youth centers, etc. Get involved and listen with an open mind to the things they are saying and doing!

            Second – Immerse yourself in the culture!

I’ve often volunteered to put together the music playlist for the hangout times at youth groups and camps. It was a proud moment when a youth told me that my playlist was “really good.” I researched what they were listening to. I listened to the songs (many today have lyrics inappropriate to youth groups), and I put together lists that would be both fun and uplifting to youth. (If you have i-Music, you can find one here.

The styles are much different from what I grew up with, but I’m learning to appreciate the drive behind them and enjoying many of them.

I also try to keep up on other entertainment that’s popular today. TikTok, Instagram, shows on Netflix and Disney+ are places that I visit as time allows, often with my kids. Mind you, I can’t spend the kind of time that many youth spend on entertainment, but I do what I can to stay current.

            Third – Get their help!

Run your ideas by the youth you know. After you’ve written, have them proofread.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “People don’t say that anymore.” And “That doesn’t make any sense.” And the worst, “Boring!”

Take their advice! Rewrite, edit, and work with your helpers to create writing that they will relate to.

There are many other tips I could list here that apply to writing for young readers. White space, chapter length, hooks, and others can take your story from good to gripping. I plan on learning more about them in two weeks at the Blue Ridge Christian Writers Conference. There’s still space there and there’s a virtual option. Check it out HERE!

Bottom line: if you have something that you think the next generation needs to hear, write it. Bring it to them in a way they will understand, enjoy, and believe!