The Damm Yankee Tales

sigh

2009-02-25T08:29:00.000-08:00

I have done zero writing since my last post. I am still waiting for Sara to finish reading what I offered and give me some more feedback.

AJ and the gang may have a new fan, Ryan. He seems to enjoy my wordplay and I have offered him the chance to see what has been going on. I suppose I must wait and see now.

My first review

2009-02-18T11:52:00.001-08:00

Yes, I know I'm posting an awful lot today, but it's really stuff I should have posted long ago, so bear with me.

I printed a copy of everything, and gave it to Sara to read. I was nervous about this, and had braced myself for a rude awakening. She actually liked it! Granted, she is still on the parts that are mostly 'finished' as far as the story goes, but so far so good!

It seems that A.J., Kelly, and the rest have their first fan!

Sara has encouraged me to keep writing and seek publication of my story. I have no idea how to get it published, but I'm sure going to try.

The Intro

2009-02-18T11:48:00.000-08:00

Most good books I have read have some sort of introduction or prologue. I didn't intend to write one, but this snippet didn't seem to really fit anywhere else. I didn't feel it stood alone as a chapter, but I felt it should be included. So, I am posting it here for everyone to see.

I could feel the wind whipping past my beat up old baseball cap, and down the sleeves of my shirt as I flew along I-10 headed west, rapidly approaching Baton Rouge. My hands beat out a steady rhythm to an old Jimmy Buffet CD on the steering wheel, and the shocks on my Jeep weren’t doing a lot to compensate for the rough roads I was travelling. But at least I was on the road, headed to……well anywhere but Beacon Hill was fine with me. I just wanted to be as far, far away from all of that as I possibly could.

Thankfully, the wind was doing a fair job of keeping me one or two steps in front of collapsing from the heat on this July day, but the sunburn I was facing from the Southern sun was not going to be fun in the morning. The nylon soccer shorts I was wearing felt hot to the touch but I was glad that my t-shirt was a light color. I had no idea where I was headed; I just knew I was running. Was I running away from something? Or was I running to something? The answer to that changed by the hour, my thoughts were racing back and forth. It had been 14 years since I last felt this lost and confused, and the feelings hadn’t gotten any easier to deal with sine then.

Three days ago I had packed up everything I could conceivably fit into a 1983 Jeep Wrangler, and headed south on I-95, looking for my own piece of Margaritaville. But I had no clue where to find it. I had been going on the assumption that I would know when I got there. But it may not be about a destination, I was beginning to think it was just about the journey.

I have been a fan of Jimmy Buffet since I first heard “Changes in Attitude, Changes in Latitude”, and currently own the complete collection. Including the ‘Before the Beach’ set. I found the music relaxing and it spoke to a lifestyle that was foreign to me, except in my imagination. I couldn’t really imagine myself living on a beach and playing in the waves all day, but it made for a nice distraction from reality.

I don’t like hotels in big cities, so I had been staying at the local Days Inn and Best Western types, in some suburb of whatever big city I was near when I decided to stop. Tonight, it looked like a suburb of Baton Rouge. I was watching the signs and the buildings I could see from the highway, but it seemed like all the towns just ran together. That wasn’t good either. I didn’t want traffic. I didn’t want noise, and cookie cutter fast food restaurants. I wanted peace. Quiet. Somewhere that had some character.

I was sill debating how far to go tonight when I began to notice a bridge in the distance. Not a little bridge, but a huge concrete structure rising above a river, and decided that I would stop on the other side of that bridge. I realized that it was the Mississippi river, a great dividing line between East and West in America. The Mason-Dixon Line. The Mississippi River. Both would become landmarks, rites of passage in my journey. Now, if I only had a clue where I was headed.

This wasn’t the first time in life I had lit out with no destination and no plan, and it seems my head is never clear on those trips. I was assuming I would know when I got there.

I got in the center lane on the bridge out of habit. Back home, if I drove in the right lane, I would never get anywhere. Too many on and offs. If I drove in the left, I was likely to get run over by people who drove even crazier than I did. So the middle lane was safe. At least safer. But that’s always open to interpretation. I have had many near misses with Boston traffic, and as a result rarely drove in the city. I didn’t see the need to drive in Boston. The subway system was modern and well run, and I always had my bike or rollerblades. Honestly, it usually took LONGER to get somewhere in a car in the city. I had to admit that once the highways were put underground in “The Big Dig” it eased a lot of the surface street mess, and certainly made the city more enjoyable, but 2 feet…2legs…and 2 wheels usually served me best.

As I choked on the diesel exhaust and wondered since when did puke green become a fashionable color for a car, I saw that the lane I was in could indeed be an exit. And that the exit split further in two. I decided to continue. The first exit just didn’t feel right. Then I glanced down at the gas gauge as I flew by, I was on E….so it was time to stop. The next exit. Yep, that will have to do.

Pulling off at an exit with an arrow pointing to a place named Port Allen, and an arrow pointing to a place named Wilks. I went left, the direction of the arrow for Wilks. I knew a guy in school whose last name was Wilks, and it would be nice to think I went to that town out of some fondness for an old friend, but really the off ramp simply split and I was further to left…so chance made the choice for me.

The four lane highway quickly became two lanes, flanked on both sides by tall trees and what looked like the downtown area of the middle of nowhere. A café, gas station, a hardware store and a few other small businesses, each with parking out front and the look of having been there forever. A singe red light, and then in the distance a hotel. A Holiday Inn to be exact….with a fairly empty parking lot, which suited me just fine.

I could feel the tightness in my shoulders as I got out of the Jeep in front of the hotel, and walked in to ask for a room. A King size bed, non smoking, and on the ground floor. I found my room in the back of the hotel, and began to unload my gear. Three duffel bags of clothes, my camera cases, and laptop computer were what I had brought. A quick shower sounds good I thought, then perhaps some exploration.

It's been a while

2009-02-18T11:37:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I posted here, and I'm sorry for that.

I have actually been busy writing! My creation, titled 'Damm Yankee' for now, has passed the 150 page mark. I don't know how many pages of actual book that equals, but it's 151 pages of Microsoft Word files right now.

I have seperated it out into 16 chapters, but the bulk of it is still rather rough.

I will feel inspired, and work on a section, then my mind will drift to an entirely different sequence of events, and I will skip to it. I have had to play with the timeline a bit, and I'm editing my ass off as I go.

A.J. has definantly taken shape. I can now imagine her reactions and comments just as easily as I can my own. I can picture the people in her life, and they have each become a creature of their own habits. I'm looking for a way to upload some of the files for view, and if I can make that work, then my readers (if I have any) will get a preivew of what I've been working on.

I'm off to check that upload....

Because I felt like it

2008-07-17T08:55:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had a dream, or a daydream, that somehow seems real, vivid, and alive?

I had such a dream a little over a year ago, and the idea for a book sprang from it. I decided to record my journey as a fledging author in this blog.

I hope you have a seat, grab a drink or some snacks, and take a trip with me.

In the dream, I was an outsider looking in, much like watching a movie. I saw a short, athletic woman in her mid 20's with a lot of additude taking pictures of old buildings and some slightly familiar looking scenery. She didn't speak, rather her additude came through in gestures, the way she walked, the confidence she carried herself with, and the expressions on her face.

I decided to name her A.J., and she became the central character in a series of daydreams. Her past, her present, and her future come to me in spurts. At times, it skips around and can be vague, and at times the action and dialogue is as clear as if I was part of it.

I decided she wasn't from the south, yet the voice she spoke to me in wasn't easily placed anywhere in the United States. A.J. spoke with a brogue that was thicker at times, and at times she sounded like a New Englander. I imagined her being born overseas, in the green hilly counties of Ireland, and somehow ending up in the U.S. But how?

I tried to write her story, from childhood through adulthood, but I kept getting stuck, and hung up on events and places. I don't know much about Ireland, and it just wasn't coming to me. When I decided to abandon her past, with the exception of a few events, and place her in New England she began to speak to me more.

But, New England presented it's own set of problems. A.J. spoke to me of her home, her family, her journey to the U.S., and her job....but she didn't speak to me of where she was headed, what she was going to do with herself. And I kept returning to the images from the dream where she was taking photographs.

One day while out driving near my home, I saw an area that looked a lot like what she was taking pictures of, and it hit me. A.J. left New England, and ended up here, in South Louisiana. With that realization, she began to speak to me more. I found a reason and means for her journey, and slowly began to understand the motives for her to stay.

It may sound strange to say a fictional character speaks to me, but that is what it feels like. I can struggle for days to hash out a single short scene, and then other days I can't keep my fingers off the keyboard. When I hit on an event, or a set of reactions that ring true, the words just flow.

A.J. began to tell me her story, the story of her time in South Louisiana, and about the people she encountered there. She began to talk at length about what she did, and where she went, and how those people impacted her.

It's those tales, the stories and experiences, that make up the Damm Yankee tales. I hope to one day publish the first set.

The Damm Yankee Tales

*sigh*

My first review

The Intro

It's been a while

Because I felt like it

sigh