Misspelled Chronicles. Sorry about that. As soon as I learn to edit, I will do so. Thanks to Teddy Wolcott, I just learned to make a paragraph. I’m making progress, considering I planned to shotgun my new Dell only last week.
Elk River. I look out my window and see sleet falling. Whatever is customary. Over the years I’ve written hundreds of stories and columns for our local newspaper. Several years ago a woman reader wrote the Editor about a column and said, “It’s the sickest thing I ever read”. I’de love to meet that lady. She may be the only woman who understands my condition..
Journalist and friend, Karen Middleton suggested that we select the “best” columns and put them in a book. Okay with me. My daughter, Shannon suggested a name–“Cornbread Chronicles”. We have sold many since then.
Recently, Betty Jones West, retired teacher at Tullahoma, Tn. suggested that I put Cornbread Chronicles on audio. Another great idea. Betty went to work on the project and Amazon will have the audio out early 2017. I hope you like it.
For my closet writer friends, remember that every story must have drama. No drama-no reader interest. You must create conflict. Problems-problems and more problems. Things just get “worser n worser”.
It’s cold outside. I plan to build a warm fire in my fireplace , sit in front of it and read. Stay warm–and happy. More later. S-o-o long until tomorrow.
From the banks of Elk River—.Last evening my good friend(and sometimes redhead) Pat and I attended the Limestone County Bar party. It was held in what was once Ben Jaffe Dept. Store on the eastside of the square. I thought about Mama. In the 50s she had sold shoes there for $30 a week. At the time I was at Athens High and working 70 hours a week at McConnell Funeral Home. I earned $30 a week. Mama said, “I’ll put food on the table if you will take care of your needs”. And that’s what we did. That was also when my dream to become a lawyer first appeared. Thanks Mom.
It was mostly a young crowd that gathered around the bar sipping wine. What a bunch of wimps! Back in the 70s, we gathered at the Athens Country Club and drank real alcohol, stuff that would kill you liver in record time. This young crowd of lawyers are not keeping up our reputation of “drinking out of the same bottle”. Our noble profession is suffering. Also, back “in the day”, when Limestone County was “dry”, Mr. Bruce Sherrill would agree to drive across the county line and purchase booze for our party, provided the DA wouldn’t prosecute. It was a great arrangement. I’m sure the common folks would’ve love to had such a deal.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell you about my new audio book, Cornbread Chronicles, which will be on the market soon. Until then, s-o-o long until tomorrow. And make yourself happy.
Dawn is cracking on Elk River and I’m sitting in my old stuffed brown chair preparing to write. It’s my power spot. My writing routine hasn’t changed since 1985 when I first began writing. First, I make coffee; Seattle Best #5, dark roast. It’s the best. My writing desk is a coffee table book of western photographs given me by my daughter, Shannon 23 years ago. It works just fine. I lay it across my lap, grab a sheet of blue-lined school paper and I’m ready. I always write in long hand. It works for me. When famous writer, Dorothy Parker was asked where she writes, she replied, “In my head”. I have my own power spot where I write. Have you ever noticed that dogs have a power spot? When I lived in Huntsville, I rose at 5am and sat on the west end of a faded blue couch–never the east end. I wrote several books and many columns on that old couch. I don’t have it anymore. My ex took it! Had she not done that, I could’ve been a better writer. I think she gave it to the Salvation Army. Sure wish I could find it. More about that later. The sole purpose of this blog is to promote my literary career. Coke advertises because it works. Maybe this will work for me. If you are reading this, it’s already working. Thanks. In the pantheon of literati, I’m comparable to a tadpole in a mudhole-small. Check out my list of books. This website is still a work in progress. Bio will be added. S-o-o long until tomorrow.
Welcome to the debut of Jaybird Journal. Recently everything has been going my way-downhill. First, my credit card was cancelled on the day I departed for Taos, New Mexico on a ten day vacation. Someone in North Dakota had charged $6.30 on my card. I’ve never been to North Dakota. We encountered 100 mph winds and the wings began flapping like a goose in flight. I ordered a scotch. The hostess wouldn’t accept cash. Printed on the bill was “legal tender for all debt”. Buying a scotch creates debt! My vacation was going downhill. I returned home and got a root canal and cap. There went $2300. I was hacked, my new credit card number was stolen, along with my email and fb. Had to purchase a new Dell computer and all the add-ons. There went another $1000. And I don’t know how to start a paragraph! Will someone please tell me how?
Retirement gives me time to think about matters of great consequence. Recently, while kicked back in my Lazy Boy knock-off and admiring my big toe, I experienced an epiphany – a great moment of truth: I have solved the answer to the age-old question of why the chicken crossed the road.