Native American Dog Breeder Of The Past

We had a humdinger series of thunderstorms blow through last night. I do mean blow. We were off line.

The Sacred Dog 

I breed Euro Great Danes—Harlequins. I also sell them. Money received depends upon the quality of the dog in so far as bloodlines and conformation. In my case, I’m not a larger breeder. I usually keep two breeding dams and a good male. I also have access to several Euro studs from another kennel. The whole process of choosing the right stud for my dams is fascinating to me. It’s also a process of breeding a better Dane, which involves looking first at the past—analyzing pedigrees and bloodlines—to create a future.

Why do I mention this? In the process of some reading (I’m on a historical/anthropology non-fiction kick right now), I came across a breeding program of sorts, utilized by a Native American breeder who lived in the 1800’s. She bred work dogs for the tribe. Bird Woman said, “We had but one breed of dog in the village in old times, but the colors varied greatly…” 

Before the Spaniards brought their horses and war dogs to North America (its thought that the original indigenous horse died out in North America), dogs were highly prized work animals. They were used as beasts of burden—they pulled sleds, travois, hauled wood (a good dog could bring in nearly 100lbs of wood).

Indian traders traveled great distances and used a pack of dogs to haul their goods. Some traders had anywhere between 5 to 20 dogs. They also were used in hunting and war. So breeding up strong dogs was important and different tribes had different looking dogs. There was considerable amount of trading between tribes for dogs. Good practice because it kept the dogs from being inbred because of the infusion of other bloodlines. By the way, there were no purebred dogs but there was a marked similarity in dogs in certain regions.

Buffalo Bird Woman, was born in 1840, a daughter of the Chief of the Hidatsa tribe (once part of the Crow) and was considered an extraordinary dog breeder and trainer. You can read more about her in THE HORSE AND DOG IN HIDATSA CULTURE by Gilbert I. Wilson.

Hidatsa dogs were strong, well trained and personable and were a variety of colors, black, white, blue, yellow or tan spotted, black and white spotting, white with black spots, or red or gray spots on a white background. Their voices were not the normal European dog bark, but a howl like that of the wolf. “The mournful howl of a dog, mounted on the top of one of the lodges, breaks the almost deathlike stillness.  The notes are instantly caught up by others, and directly every cur in the village is taking his part with commendable energy.  Commencing soft and low, the noise grows louder and deeper until it finally dies away in a prolonged wail; modulated by distance, the sound is not unmusical.”

What fascinated me was how Bird Woman approached breeding and choosing strong dogs for training:

“Dogs are bred at any time during the year, but wolves only in the winter. As soon as we learned that a bitch was gravid (pregnant) we were careful not to harness her and make her pull a travois.  We were also careful not to kick a gravid female in the abdomen.   Some bitches were very surly and cross when gravid, others were always gentle whether gravid or not. There was usually born from 7 to 10 pups.

A kennel was built for the pregnant bitch.  A pit 5 to 6 feet in diameter and 11/2 to 2ft. deep was dug.  The pit was dug deep enough so that the small pups could not climb out.  In rain or cold weather the door was covered with an old skin or buffalo hide.

As we wanted only big dogs and all the pups from a bitch’s first litter never grew large, we always killed them, sparing not one. From the second litter we kept 3 to 4 of the pups, with larger heads, wide faces and big legs, for we knew they would be big, strong dogs. The rest we killed…

Strong pup big legs and head.

In order that the mother might stay in good condition, we never saved more than 3 to 4 pups out of any litter. Out of the 3 to 4 pups saved, we would choose one bitch for future breeding and the rest males for work.

After the pups were 10 days old and ate the food we gave them…we smoked them. We burned some of the large kind of sage on some coals and we held the puppy with its head in the sage smoke, until white saliva like soapsuds dribbled from its mouth.  If the pup fell over while he was held a few inches from the ground and dropped, I knew he wouldn’t grow up to be strong.  But if he hold his place and did not fall over I would say, “ Hey! Hey! This dog will carry my tent!”

Smoking the puppies was good for them.  It gave them a good appetite so that they would eat anything and everything, with no worms in their intestines. Male dogs were castrated at one year to keep them gentle and keep them fat.

Dogs ate meat and were fed a boiled corn mush.  The meat that spoiled was fed to the dogs.  If an animal killed during a hunt was lean and poor in flesh, it was given to the dogs.”

The women owned the dogs but the men in the family got to name them. Hidatsa dogs were work animals and trained to carry/pull substantial weight and because of that they were not required to work until they reached 2 years old. This gave them time for their bones and muscle to develop. The dogs were good tempered and well trained.

Yes, some tribes, like the Sioux, ate dog meat. The Hidatsa did not. Why? In the words of Bird Woman, “Hidatsa dogs were considered to be sacred and weren’t eaten because the flesh was not good [because] the dogs fed on carrion and human excrement.”

Native American Indian Dogs today 

MONDAY MUSINGS: Looking At The Past

Sorry this posted late, a glitch in the auto-publish feature. It was supposed to post at Midnight and I have been gone all day and just realized it hadn't.

A cup of tea and beauty to think by...

This past weekend I fed my love of history, archaeology, and people. I did quite a bit of comparisons between the peoples of the 1300-1500’s in the Middle East, Europe, and the Americas. Amazing stuff. Attitudes toward each other and who was superior was astonishing in similarities. The Middle Eastern people looked at the Europeans and savages and uneducated in comparison with their advancements in hygiene and medical practices.

I’m also amused by Europeans view of the Americas as a vast wilderness largely uninhabited and what inhabitants they did encounter were considered savage barbarians. Heathens. Little more evolved than animals compared to the great advancements the Europeans felt they had.

Casqui Parkin Site (artist depiction)

Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. North America was far from empty and it’s people far from savages. To give some context in population, England in the 1400’s was about 2 ½ million and topped over 3 million in the 1500’s. The population of Europe was more than 70 million during that time period.  Substantial numbers in what was seen as the ‘civilized world’. Now, let’s look at North America during the same time period—between 2 million and 18 million. Not exactly uninhabited and that’s just North America. If you add South America, the numbers jump to about 100 million.

Artist depiction of Moundville at it's peak about 800 years ago, and built on high terraces and mounds to keep them safe from flooding.

The idea of uneducated savages also comes into question when you look at the homes, cities, written languages, and military power (consider that the Native American armies in southeastern US was able to defeat the military might of Spain’s warriors under De Soto). 

Palenque Ruins

When you look at the political structures, and the religious and medical practices, the people of the Americas were anything but uneducated. Political systems were in place under kings, chieftains and sub-rulers, a body of those who set rules—in some clans/tribes were nations with the equivalent of parliament/congress. These people had their religious temples, educational centers, and their palaces; huge cites that would rival many cities in Europe. They performed surgeries unknown in most of Europe but the Middle East would have understood and applauded. At a time when waste products were being tossed out of the windows in London or Paris to the streets below, when bathing and cleanliness was almost unheard of (another reason Middle East look down on European society) people in the Americas had waste systems, bathing was the norm, drinking water was kept separate and clean. There were sophisticated food storage systems. To give you an idea of how urbane food storage was, in De Soto’s time, he raided an Apalachee town and carried away enough food to feed over 600 men and their horses for over 6 months.

Education was also in place, knowledge of mathematics, knowledge of the stars and their movements were commonplace in parts of the Americas.

I’m not discounting less highly developed tribes, warrior societies, or city-states in either place, but this idea that those native to the Americas were savages, that this continent was empty or up for grabs because of it, is laughable. 

Picture credits: Wikipedia, The Daily Kos, and Moundville Archaeological Museum 

STEPHEN TREMP: SHARING LAUGHTER AND COFFEE

My guest is Sci-Fi author, Stephen Tremp. He's the author of The Breakthrough Trilogy and Opening, is the second book in the series. He's sharing his latest book and some laughter with us. 

Thanks Sia for hosting me on my Grand OPENING Tour!  I opted for some Bloopers and Boners that had to be edited out of the Star Trek episodes to share with your readers. 
Enjoy!

 

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A scientific breakthrough of such magnitude it could radically alter the future of humanity—for better or worse—is in the wrong hands. Graduate students from M.I.T. have stolen a breakthrough in wormholes from renowned Professor of Physics Nicholas Fischer. Their leader, Nick Fischer Jr., has convinced the group to assassinate powerful politicians and World Bank executives, privy to the discovery, to prevent them from using it for their own New World Order agenda and egregious profits. Using wormholes for swift, traceless, attacks and exits, they execute the first mission. Fischer Sr. is arrested for the murders, having been framed by his son.
Chase Manhattan, man of danger, and part of a new breed of modern-day discovery seekers, desires to settle down. He’s met a beautiful woman he hadn’t seen since high school and seeks a long-lasting relationship. Ready to leave crime-solving behind, he’s taking a position as an associate professor of physics at UC Irvine. His idyllic plans are interrupted when he uncovers the scheme. Excerpt (starring the antagonist) 
You can also read the first chapter on Amazon.

BUY: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords 

Stephen Tremp has a background in information systems, management, and finance and draws from this varied and complex experiential knowledge to write one-of-a-kind thrillers. His novels are enhanced by current events at the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) and other scientific research facilities around the world. These potential advances have the ability to change the way we perceive our universe and our place in it! You can visit Stephen Tremp at Breakthrough Blogs.

Monday's Musings: Defining Success

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote historical romance. Did you know that? 

Now, let me reassure you manly guys, in Doyle’s time, adventure fiction was considered romantic because the story consisted of idealized, adventurous or heroic characters—larger than life. Since there was no genre designation for science fiction, stories he wrote such as The Lost World, were also under the term romance. Yes, some of his stories had some romantic interest between characters, but the thrust of the story was always the adventure.

My husband and I were talking about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, this weekend, and the things in his life that affected his writing and his perspective of that writing and how he defined success. We're both fans of his writing and have read his biography.  His mother was a storyteller. She told him heroic stories from babyhood. Doyle's going to college (where he entertained many with his oral stories) changed his outlook on life. He got another point of view from going adventuring, getting married, juggling his work as a practicing physician and father with his ambition to be an author. How life experiences can change a writer’s perspective of what they write. The difference between critical acclaimed work and commercial success—especially in the writer's mind.

For instance, everyone knows about Sherlock Homes. It’s probably the most famous and financially successful series that Sir Arthur wrote. He met the inspiration for Sherlock while attending medical school in Edinburgh, Scotland. Dr. Joseph Bell, who was known as "a master at observation, logic, deduction, and diagnosis." Sound familiar? 

When Sir Arthur was 27, he wrote, A Study in Scarlet, introducing us to Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson (although that wasn't their names in the original manuscript). Watson was loosely based on Doyle's own adventures as a medical officer serving on board a whaling ship sailing the arctic waters (which he loved) and again as a doctor on board another ship sailing between England and the west coast of Africa (which he hated). Sherlock Holmes was born from a young man's sense of adventure and the respect and admiration of a mentor.   

Even though Sherlock Holmes stories skyrocketed him to the bestselling lists of his time, Doyle didn’t particularly like his character. You see, Doyle wanted to be known as a serious author, in other words, he wanted critical acclaim.  He attempted to kill Sherlock off when he was thirty-four in The Final Problem.

Why would Doyle do that? The Sherlock Holmes Series was a moneymaking success and made him famous. Doyle, at the ripe age of thirty-two, felt Sherlock Holmes was too commercial and eclipsed his more serious work. What many don’t know is Doyle’s first love was the historical novel. The White Company was one of those novels written from his heart. It’s set during the Hundred Year Wars with brave Knight, Alleyne Edrickson, the squire hero; Sir Nigel Loring, the knight errant; Samkin Aylward, the master archer; and Hordle John.

“Thirty years later, he told a journalist, "I was young and full of the first joy of life and action, and I think I got some of it into my pages. When I wrote the last line, I remember that I cried: 'Well, I'll never beat that' and threw the inky pen at the opposite wall." “

Doyle wrote other tales of Sir Nigel and the White Company. They’re great stories, actually, and if you like Doyle’s writing and haven’t read them, you should check them out (you can find many of them on Amazon, BTW).

Not long after this, his life took a downswing. He got influenza, which which almost killed him, it took him some time to recover from it. He killed off Sherlock (although he didn’t hesitate to resurrect him, later, when he needed the money), his father died, and not long after that, first wife, Louisa, contracted tuberculosis. It was a dark time for him, he suffered from depression, and his writing reflected that. He delved into the “Spiritualism” of the time and became fascinated with life beyond the veil. Remember, this is Victorian times and many were interested in things of that nature. He wrote about these things in papers and some later became part of non-fiction books on the subject of the occult.

After nine years of being sick his wife died. A year later he married the love of his life, Jean Locke (allegedly related to Rob Roy which delighted Doyle). He loved his life, his wife, and their children. A couple years later he wrote his next commercially successful series, The Lost World, with the outrageous and larger than life hero, Professor Challenger. He wrote four more novels with Professor Challenger. I think he had a lot of fun with the humorous professor and his adventures. Plus, like with Sherlock, they were wildly popular with his fans and brought in a good amount of money.

Isn’t it funny, Doyle wanted to be thought of as a serious author?  I’d say he achieved that. He wanted critical acclaim and didn’t feel his popular series gave him that. Boy, was he wrong. If he could only see what’s been done with these two famous and long-lived characters. His body of work is quite substantial. King Edward VII, a huge Sherlock Holmes fan, Knighted Doyle (at the age of forty-three) for his service to the crown and work during the Boer Wars (including a non-fiction book written about his findings as a doctor).

Life changes us. We grow, our priorities change, as does our perception of life, but our desire to write, either as form of making sense of life or to tell stories, remain. 

When you read Doyle’s body of work, you see reflections of those types of changes  The stories of a young man’s sense of adventure, historical novels from the heart, various short stories and novels that were born in depression, books highlighting Doyle’s intellectual pursuits whether as a doctor or as a man fascinated by the unseen world of the occult, happy fun adventures written during a very happy time in his life.  

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, if he were here today, might debate over the terminology of being called a successful author, but in my opinion he was certainly a successful author and he continued to write regardless of what life threw him.

• What do you think? Do you feel he achieved critical acclaim or merely success?

• How would you define success for your writing?

  

JO ROBERTSON: Becoming Banana Bread

Mocha Banana Bread--see Recipe Page

My guest is award winning author of romantic thrillers, Jo Robertson  She’s also a member of one my favorite groups, The Romance Bandits. 

Every morning I eat a banana. 

Not because I really like bananas at all; I'd much prefer a juicy peach or ripe pear, grapes or strawberries.  But I eat the banana instead. 

Actually, it's not so much a whole banana as what I call a "banana stub." Every morning my husband eats a banana, but since he doesn't want a whole one, he leaves me the stub. Mind you, if I don't eat that stub, it'll be there the next day anyway, and there'll be two banana stubs to eat or throw away. I can't stand waste, so I eat the stub.

My husband and I have completely different ways of buying bananas. I prefer them yellow with no bruised spots, but even if they turn a bit brown, they're still very edible to me. My husband buys them green and calculates exactly how many he needs to buy at a time to eat his daily banana portion and leave me the stub.

I figure a banana should never be thrown away. Why?

You guessed it.

Banana Bread.

In fact, when I frequent my local 7-11 store, I'm often delighted to see there are only bruised and slightly brown bananas. I see a banana bread loaf or banana pudding (another favorite of mine) looming in my future.

Sometimes when you start out wanting one thing, you just end up with something else. And often, in my experience, that something else is quite unexpectedly delicious and delightful.

I don't know about other writers, but my writing "well" is a lot like that. What I had envisioned as a simple piece of fruit ends up as a dessert, with all its varied ingredients – walnuts, sugar, vanilla, eggs – and all its varied layers – vanilla wafers, pudding, sliced bananas and whipped cream.

At least that's what I hope happens.  My ideas start small.  I don't think there's a large idea in my head (okay, maybe a lot of tiny marbles rolling around like Buckyballs, those tiny magnetic balls that were all the rage at Christmas).  Check it out here http://www.getbuckyballs.com.  But, like those magnetic beads, I hope I can twist and shape and create something quite beautiful out of those small kernels of imagination.

My characters also are like that. I'll see a feisty, ambitious, perhaps obsessively-driven woman. Lots of energy (of course, because you can't have the other traits if you're chronically tired) to deal with what drives her. I probably don't even know what drives her, but I suspect it borders on the edge of mania.

She can't rest, can't relax, can't love – until she solves the dilemma. At this point I'm not sure what the dilemma is, but I know the hero will be her Selexa. The one who helps her ground herself, center her soul so that she can accomplish her mission (should she choose to accept it and – of course! she will – this is a romance story at  heart).

I know the hero's a pretty solid, stand-up guy although he carries a bit of baggage from his past; however, he doesn't let that past define his future. He's an optimist and he sees in my slightly pessimistic heroine the woman who will complement him, although at the get-go he's sure she's completely insane.  Or trouble with a capital T.

What begins as something pea-sized in my head can flourish in my imagination into something quite large. And it always astounds me!

It's the same with my cooking. I often begin with onion, pepper, and garlic in olive oil. But what I add next is a mystery to me – a little meat, some beans, veggies, spices (who knows which ones) until the "smell" is just right. Yeah, I cook by odor. Then I taste.

I think I write a lot like that.

Readers, have ever embarked on what you thought was a small sojourn that ended up being a wild, wacky journey?  Started one project that ended up being something else?  Walked down one road to find yourself somewhere entirely different from what you'd imagined?

What about you, writers?  Do you find that a tiny kernel of an idea is the starting point for your story?  Or do your stories come in full-blown Technicolor?

I'm offering a free download of any one of my trilogy – "TheWatcher," The Avenger," OR "The Traitor" – to one lucky, random commenter!


THE AVENGER– Jo  Robertson
A clandestine government organization called Invictus "recruits" outstanding athletes for secret projects. But their top agent Jackson Holt has special, almost preternatural, qualities not even the Organization can explain.

Olivia Gant, professor of Ancient Studies at a private college in California, was once Jack's childhood sweetheart. But when he deserted her, he left her alone to combat her stepfather's drunken attentions and her mother's careless neglect.

Nearly twenty years later, their paths cross in a mission to fight a bizarre religious serial killer whose methods include crucifixion and burial alive. Olivia and Jack battle for happiness against years of secrecy and distance as they use Olivia's expertise in Latin and Jack's special gifts to track a brutal killer.

Can Olivia forgive Jack for his long-ago betrayal?
Can Jack allow Olivia to witness the terrible Change that makes him such an effective killing machine? Excerpt (you can read the first couple of chapters on Amazon)


MY REVIEW


BUY: AMAZON, BARNES and NOBLE, SMASHWORDS

Jo Robertson, a former high school English teacher, lives in northern California, near the beautiful Sierra Nevada foothills. She enjoys reading, scrapbooking, and discussing the latest in books, movies, and television shows. Any "spare" time she has is spent enjoying her seven children and grandchildren.

When her Advanced Placement English students challenged her to quit talking about writing and "just do it," she wrote her first completed manuscript, "The Watcher," which won Romance Writers of American's Golden Heart Award for romantic suspense in 2006. The second book in the loosely-connected trilogy is "The Avenger," which won the 2007 Daphne du Maurier Overall Award for Excellence. "The Traitor is the third book in the series."

Jo's books are romantic thrillers, which means they straddle the line between mainstream thriller-suspense and romance. She feels that a strong relationship in a book makes the danger more intense. Readers have commented that they especially enjoy her complex, three-dimensional villains. 

FACEBOOK, TWITTER, WEBSITE

Reading For Pleasure

Aaah, February...

February is the month of icky snow, icy cold, and the bloodthirsty desire to hunt down those blasted snow fairies.  No wait, this is supposed to be a positive view of February.

Positive...good things…don’t look at the six inches of new snow covering your blooming Daffodils, Sia…

Ah, yes, back on track. It’s the month of love, sweethearts, candy hearts, flowers, and romance in the air (providing you’re inside, where it’s warm and not outside freezing your tush off—which is probably why this is the month of love).

Anyway, I digress. So, find your favorite comfy seat, a nice snuggling blanket, grab something hot to warm you (not the hot guy on the side, ladies); I was thinking coffee, hot chocolate, or tea.

My assistants are searching high and low for list of reads that are sure to please—I sure enjoyed them! These were books I read for pleasure. I don't get a chance to do that as often as I like.

  

The Eden Prophesy  GrahamBrown  

The wisdom of faith. The power of science. The evil of man.

In the U.N. building in New York City, a U.S. Ambassador contracts an unknown virus after opening a threatening letter. In a slum near Paris, a rogue geneticist is found dead, tortured and defiled. His last message, a desperate plea for help, was sent to an old friend and fellow outcast, the ex-CIA agent and former mercenary named Hawker. His final legacy appears to be the fingerprints he left all over the letter to the Ambassador.

Consumed by thoughts of revenge but fighting to see the truth, Hawker teams up with NRI operative Danielle Laidlaw on a quest to find the killers and track down the secrets his dead friend may have lost or sold.

From the streets of Paris to an underground auction in the catacombs of Beirut to the merciless deserts of Iran, Hawker and Danielle find themselves hunting a murderous cult leader whose scientific arsenal could lead humanity to a new Eden—or unleash hell on the Earth itself.

The Turning Of Anne Merrick  — A tale of love and espionage. Christine Blevins

She spies for General Washington, betrays the Redcoats and battles for America's independence...

It's 1777, and a fledgling country wages an almost hopeless struggle against the might of the British Empire. Brought together by a fateful kiss, Anne Merrick and Jack Hampton are devoted to each other and to their Patriot cause. As part of Washington's daring network of spies, they are ready and willing to pay even the ultimate price for freedom.

From battlefields raging along the Hudson, to the desperate winter encampment at Valley Forge and through the dangerous intrigue of British-occupied Philadelphia, Anne and Jack brave the trials of separation, the ravages of war and an unyielding enemy growing ever more ruthless.

For love and for country, all is put at risk-and together the pair must call upon their every ounce of courage and cunning in order to survive.

CassaFire Alex Cavanaugh 

CassaStar was only the beginning… 

The Vindicarn War is a distant memory and Byron’s days of piloting Cosbolt fighters are over. He has kept the promise he made to his fallen mentor and friend - to probe space on an exploration vessel. Shuttle work is dull, but it’s a free and solitary existence. The senior officer is content with his life aboard the Rennather.

The detection of alien ruins sends the exploration ship to the distant planet of Tgren. If their scientists can decipher the language, they can unlock the secrets of this device. Is it a key to the Tgren's civilization or a weapon of unimaginable power? Tensions mount as their new allies are suspicious of the Cassan's technology and strange mental abilities. 

To complicate matters, the Tgrens are showing signs of mental powers themselves, the strongest of which belongs to a pilot named Athee, a woman whose skills rival Byron’s unique abilities. Forced to train her mind and further develop her flying aptitude, he finds his patience strained. Add a reluctant friendship with a young scientist, and he feels invaded on every level. All Byron wanted was his privacy…

Shadow Highlander: A Dark Sword Novel DonnaGrant 

HE CAN FEEL HER MAGIC

Sent on a dangerous mission into the shadowy world of the Druids, Galen must find a powerful ancient relic to defeat the enemies of Castle MacLeod. But what he discovers is far more powerful—and far more dangerous. A Druid lass whose beauty is as spellbinding as any magic…

CAN HE FREE HER SOUL

Reaghan is the most enchanting woman Galen has even met—and the most enigmatic. She alone is immune to his mind-reading gifts. He alone makes her feel safe and secure. But Reaghan holds a secret power deep inside her that could destroy them both. And if Galen hopes to hold this captivating woman in his arms every night, he must defeat the darkness that draws closer around her every day….

What am I reading right now? Kathleen and Michael Gear's Searing Wind—I've been reading their books since they first published them. I'll let you know my thoughts when I finish it.

Oh, and if you see that blasted Snow Fairy? Kick her winged self far north, would you? 

Thanks

Monday Musings: From The House Of My Faddah

This is on my newest coffee cup.

I was born, yonder, in the house of my Faddah. Wait, wrong origins. Sorry, I was channeling Tony Curtis’ character Myles, in The Black Shield of Falworth.

Still, it’s not too far removed from my origins as a storyteller. My father was a fabulous storyteller, as many Celtics can be. He would have made an excellent warrior bard. He entertained his children and wife with stories on many an evening. Hot summer nights we’d sit outside and do round robin stories with each of us taking turns. The story might have started as a dream Dad had, or something he saw from his travels, and he’d embellish it with details. Dad told his stories in installments. While Dad worked he’s be thinking up the next installment for us. We loved it.

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. As kids, my brothers and I would also make up stories to act out in—‘let’s pretend’. We took turns making up adventures to play pretend and they, too, lasted days. A living adventure series. We couldn’t wait to get outside for the next adventure—which worked great for mama because we had to do our chores before we were free to play. Ah, waiting was agony for us!

My parents encouraged the free reign of imagination. There were many times Dad and Mom would get rid of the TV set, entirely—not a TV to be found at our house. Instead we were encourage to listen to or play music and we had tons of books to read, we are all good artists and crafters, great singers, and good conversationalists. And, we all can tell stories. J  

As long as I can remember, I’ve told stories. My mom still has some drawing from when I was 4 and 5—think comic book style—of stories I made up. Then came Barbies and more stories, only Barbie was rarely allowed to be a princess, mostly, she and the GI Joes (Gads, do you remember how wimpy looking Ken was?), were taking part in some kick ass adventure of discovery and danger.

I don’t think I consciously thought of writing as a career, but I did win contests as a kid for poetry and stories I did and some were even published. Any project I had in school had as much time spent on the creative words as the nuts and bolts of the project. I had teachers who encouraged me to develop my skills, but painting pictures with words was as natural as breathing for me. I figured everyone could do it and why were they making such big deal about it—until I got older.

College was the first time I actually considered writing. That was about the time I was taking some clinical psych courses that involved detailed journal entries of children and adults I dealt with. I always got A’s on that, not only for the applied technical content but also for telling a compelling story on each of my clients. Always, there had to be a story at the heart. My professors would always add on the comment page that I should really consider writing because I could paint pictures with words. About that time I was also working part-time with radio and newspapers writing up articles and in radio doing the scripts for commercials. Every job I’ve had used my writing skills. It’s something I’m good at.

I have various notebooks filled with stories and several complete novels written. They were fun to write—it was always something I did on the side and it fed my creative side just as much as music and art do. Frankly, my life was so full I simply didn’t have time to pursue publication for fiction. I had a demanding high power job that consumed most of my time and utilized much of my creativity. I hardly had any inspiration left over, although I still wrote fiction. 

I moved from the San Francisco area, settled in Missouri, to be near my family. I left behind the corporate world for a different sort of life. Fulfilling dreams of being a mom and ranching, raising hay, vegetables, creating flower gardens, horses and Great Danes.  My life is still full, fulfilling, but in a different way. Much of my storytelling was channeled towards my son, but still...I found myself thinking much more about my writing.  There are a lot of stories out here beyond the back forty.

Friends and a few family members who had read my stories urged (okay, browbeat) me to move forward with it. Finally, I decided to enter one of my stories in a contest a few years ago (2007). I placed at the top 25%. I decided to query them. Got some positive feedback and joined a writing group which I’m still part of. All this showed me just how much I didn’t know about this business of writing. For me, that was unacceptable. The need to know has always a driving force for me. Knowledge of a path always gives me confidence to continue to walk it and if I get knocked down, the ability to dust off the dirt of the pratfall, stick a bandage on the boo-boos and move on.

I’ve spent the last few years learning about my craft. I’ve read and reviewed books to learn current market expectations, did judging gigs, experiment with various promotion platforms, and gained name recognition. In 2009 I created my blog. For me, it’s never been a race for followers (although I love them) but sharing other writers’ journeys, what they’ve faced and overcome. What they’re still overcoming despite their successes.

What’s next? That’s still work in progress and is still evolving. Definitely more writing, and the editing what I’ve already written and more querying.

From the house of my father to who I am today has been a living story. I’ve enjoyed it all.