
Monthly Archives: December 2016
The Madam is PISSED!
Madam Fannie is furious after learning “soiled dove” Sadie snuck out to attend and heckle the Women’s Christian Temperance Union meeting!

photo used to make the point!
Reba returned to the stove, hissing like her frying bacon.
My temples throbbed. If the ache continued, I’d have to take a spoonful of that sorry laudanum and tuck myself in bed. “Now, I have to figure what to do. You have put me in a terrible situation. The girls know you betrayed my trust. We have rules in this house, and by God, girls in my establishment will Abide by them. How can I possibly let you get away with this?”
Quiet now, Sadie crossed her arms and laid her head on her forearms. Her shoulders quivered a silent shrug.
Reba shook her head. “Thinks I’m about to have another sighting, Miss Fannie. It’s starting to tell me something’s fixin’ to change around here.”
It didn’t hurt for Reba to season the disobedient girl with the fear of being fired and turned back out on the streets.
(excerpt from The Last Bordello)
Cono’s Cigar Box
“A cigar box alone may have no meaning, but the Treasures inside tell a story.”
I go to bed real happy. It had been a real good honest day’s work. We’d sold three dollars and twenty cents worth of those little seed packets and after tomorrow’s sell day I know I’m just one step closer to having me a brand new geetar.
I wrap my money in a dish towel and stuff, tie it up with a string and put it in my box of specials hidden under my bed. Nothing like an honest day’s work to make a feller wore out. I put my head on my pillow and go straight to sleep, out like Lottie’s eye.
The first thing I do next morning after waking up is pull out my cigar box. My other specials are in there; my Devils Claw, toothbrush, Tiger, my pocket knife, my piece of boxing glove lace, my penny from Uncle Will. But my dishtowel of money isn’t there. I leave my room and find Aunt Nolie sitting at the kitchen table eating a biscuit.
“It’s gone!” I say.
“What’s gone, Cono?”
“All my money’s gone. It ain’t where I put it!”
Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper
The Magic In-Between
You know that state when you’re laying in bed? When you’re not asleep but not awake, and thoughts or images pop up from seemingly no where? Do you try to grab them before they slip away and make yourself remember?
I had one last night. But before I tell you this one, I’ll tell you one from the past.
During one– in particular– in-between, I caught a word, a name. “O. R. -something”, last name “Ryan.” So, of course, the next day, I made a search of O.R. Ryan. I kept looking until Orion appeared. Orion’s belt? I’d heard of it.
I didn’t know anything about stars except to look at them! Like I did that night before.
The next day, after telling my friend about what I found in my in-between, he said, “Yes, you can see Orion’s Belt clearly now from your backyard.”
I had been staring at Orion’s belt thinking about anything but the constellation.
But Orion had thought of me.

Last night, I saw an arched light blue wooden door. From my perspective, it appeared about five feet away from me. Like Mr. O. Ryan, there was no feeling attached to this door. Since I’m terribly interested in my in-between, I searched for a photo. It looked sort of like this, same color, same perspective, but without the ivy.

This door lives in Ireland, not the top of my bucket list of places to visit, nor the bottom.
So now I’m thinking. Did I write a poem, some analogy about a door? If I did, I’ll find it.
When you hear the whisper of magic in your in-between, grab it. It will tell you something. You just have to pay attention.
“Fanatics” Against Prostitution!
Greta, one of Sadie’s fellow prostitutes at the bordello, tries to comfort her after they learn members of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union are coming to town to Protest against vice. (From The Last Bordello)

Greta put an arm around Sadie. “I love you truly, truly, dear,” she sang.
“Stop it!” Sadie unclenched her fists long enough to wallop her palms on the table. “Your piping doesn’t help.”
Greta puffed her cheeks and blew out a huff. She placed her hands around her throat. “Geez, kill me now. You’re actin’ like you been slurpin’ asshole soup again.”
“Hypocrites, all of them.” Sadie’s face reddened. “Those protesters make me sick. Religious fanatics who can’t mind their own damn business, preach like they’re better than us.”
Her last comment, barely a whisper, I knew Sadie was thinking about her religious nut of a mother. She rarely spoke of her, but when she did, she referred to her as Lucinda the Lucifer. The woman had forced Sadie to recite Bible passages before allowing her to eat and preached the sin of men’s unbridled passion until her ears burned. Who wouldn’t run away after that kind of upbringing?

Look Up
Wow! I think a need to remember to look up!
I’m Noi-vus!

My third novel is finished. I love Emma June, Scooter, moonshine-maker Miss Helen. I love Emma June’s determination to find her mama and bring her back home. I love the heart-warming elements, the dialogue…
So why am I NOI-VUS?
Tomorrow I will send The Moonshine Thicket off to a literary agency, the owner I met and spoke with several years ago.
This past October, I “attended” a webinar where she and one of her agents were the hosts. The perk of the webinar was being able to submit your query, synopsis, or first ten pages (a total of 10 pages).
The agent I was assigned to was more than encouraging in her review. She gave me hope.
Still, I’m pondering. Am I ready?

It’s your soul, no one else’s
RAW Journal Kernels – Shocker!
Well, finding him in my journal was a shocker. I thought he’d left a long time ago. You know, since he was all dressed up and all.

Guess I need to add a “fashion” tag to this post. 🙂
Who Are You?

Truly, hoo, hoo, are you?
Tell me.
I want to know.
Seriously.
Talk to me.
I’m listening.
