Hi all!
I know, I know. I've been a bad, bad, blogger. Sorry guys! And I can't really blame it on any one thing in particular, except perhaps sheer laziness or . . . maybe procrastination? I dunno. I mean I work full-time and have 2 kids (and sometimes a third, if you count my husband--sorry, hubby!). But I know that's true for so many of us--we all have things/people that we have to write or blog around. So I'm starting back (to blogging) and workin' on the time management (I found some great links on this that I'll put in another post later). I'll also be posting links to some really interesting witer/publishing info that I've come across in the last month or two.
For today (or what's left of it), I'm posting below my entry for Kelly Lyman's "In the Beginning" Blogfest . . . it's from the first page of TRAIN WATCH, my middle grade work-in-progress. I've never participated in a blogfest before so I'm a bit nervous, and I also haven't posted any excerpts in quite a while either! Anyways, here it is . . . let me know what you think (especially if anything strikes you as unclear).
Wishing you all a happy & blessed Easter weekend! :)
And, of course, THANKS FOR READING!
Chapter 1
Letter to Mama
April 10, 1941
Dear Mama,
I hope you are doing well. PLEASE COME GET ME AND OTIS! I’m tired of working in the field picking cotton and corn and tobacco and whatever else Grandpa Lum grows for the Boss Man. I thought slavery was over! I want to come live with you, Mama. Now! And Mama, you’re not going to believe this, but yesterday, when me, Hattie, and Otis were out in the cotton field pulling weeds, Grandma Jenny hit me over the head with a hoe! She said I was too slow. Mama, I was just tired. Tired from walking the mile home from school. Tired from the heat. Tired
from--
"CRR-E-E-E-A-K"
Oh no. Someone’s coming up the ladder! Grandpa Lum will skin me alive if he finds me up here writing to Mama.
Shoving aside the worn notebook she was writing on, Cleo Holmes swung her brown, mosquito-bitten legs over the side of the bed, narrowly missing the jagged metal springs poking through the thin mattress.
With the nearly-finished letter still in her hand, she hurried across the room and quickly pushed aside the dark sheet of the makeshift closet. Pulling down an old, tattered shoebox from the back of the top shelf, she placed the letter in the box alongside her blue ribbon ink pen (won in a most-books-read-over-the-summer contest). She scooted to the middle of the room just as Hattie, her twelve-year-old aunt, appeared at the top of the ladder, sweat streaming down the sides of her pecan-tanned face.
Cleo raised her eyes to the ceiling. Thank you, Lord. Grandpa Lum hasn’t reached the house—yet.
"Whoo-weee! It’s . . . some . . . kinda . . . hot . . . out there!" Hattie huffed, as she pulled herself up and over the ladder. She wiped the steady drip of water off her dirt-streaked face with the back of her hand and down the sides of the faded, dust-covered overalls she wore. Catching her breath, she continued, "Papa says you better hurry on down. He don’t want anymore dilly-dallying from you." She focused more clearly on Cleo. "You still in your school clothes?"
"Hattie," Cleo begged, shimmying out her knee-length plaid skirt, "tell him I’m coming. Please?" She forced her clammy legs into the new pair of blue jeans her mama had sent last month. "I just have to finish something first."
"Papa don’t care ’bout none of that. You better get a move on or he’ll be up here with a switch—or a belt." She looked over her shoulder, then back at Cleo.
Showing posts with label TRAIN WATCH. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TRAIN WATCH. Show all posts
Friday, April 2, 2010
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Teaser Tuesday
Hi all!
I haven't done a teaser for a while and thought I'd post one today. If I'm not careful, I'll probably end up posting my whole book (just kidding . . . I know my chances for publication would be pretty much nil if I did that!). But seriously, I do so love the feedback from everyone. It's very encouraging!
Today I'm posting from TRAIN WATCH (yep, I'm still revising it, adding scenes here & there, etc.).
Here's the setup for the scene: Cleo, my protagonist, is on her way to the train station in Winston-Salem, NC, with her mother, brother, & grandfather, as well as the kind schoolteacher that she & her mother befriended at the previous station in Hamlet. (And just a reminder, the year is 1941)
Cleo looked up from her book, wondering why Mrs. Grissett was frowning so. Mama also noticed.
"Is there anything wrong, Mrs. Grissett?" Mama asked.
"Why, no dear, not especially. I was just thinking about your Cleo's big dreams is all." She tried to face Cleo but could only turn halfway as they jammed so tightly in the old Roadster. "It's a beautiful thing to realize such big dreams as yours, Cleo, but don't forget to look back every now and then. There are others dreaming right behind you."
"Yes, ma'am," Cleo said, heat rising to her cheeks.
Turning back to Mama, Mrs. Grissett continued, "You know, the young ones today don't realize that good, qualified Negro teachers are still needed down here, as well as up North.
Cleo dropped her chin and closed her book. She blinked back the tears that threatened to drop any second. Maybe she did read too much like Otis said. She really hadn't meant to sound so self-centered. And it wasn't that she had anything against working in the South--okay, she was against working in the fields--but it was just . . . just . . . that she knew, no felt, something bigger was in store for her in New York.
"Cleo! Cleo!"
Mama was shaking her shoulder so hard she thought her collarbone would come unhinged. How long had she been lost in thought? "Yes, Mama?"
"Didn't you hear me calling you, girl? What's wrong with you?"
"I'm fine, Mama. I was just thinking is all."
"Well, child, that's the saddest look of "fine" I've ever seen." Mama shook her head. "Cleo, this here's a mean, hard world. And I don't mean just here in the South. The North has its problems, too."
Well, that's it for today. Thanks so much for reading!
I haven't done a teaser for a while and thought I'd post one today. If I'm not careful, I'll probably end up posting my whole book (just kidding . . . I know my chances for publication would be pretty much nil if I did that!). But seriously, I do so love the feedback from everyone. It's very encouraging!
Today I'm posting from TRAIN WATCH (yep, I'm still revising it, adding scenes here & there, etc.).
Here's the setup for the scene: Cleo, my protagonist, is on her way to the train station in Winston-Salem, NC, with her mother, brother, & grandfather, as well as the kind schoolteacher that she & her mother befriended at the previous station in Hamlet. (And just a reminder, the year is 1941)
Cleo looked up from her book, wondering why Mrs. Grissett was frowning so. Mama also noticed.
"Is there anything wrong, Mrs. Grissett?" Mama asked.
"Why, no dear, not especially. I was just thinking about your Cleo's big dreams is all." She tried to face Cleo but could only turn halfway as they jammed so tightly in the old Roadster. "It's a beautiful thing to realize such big dreams as yours, Cleo, but don't forget to look back every now and then. There are others dreaming right behind you."
"Yes, ma'am," Cleo said, heat rising to her cheeks.
Turning back to Mama, Mrs. Grissett continued, "You know, the young ones today don't realize that good, qualified Negro teachers are still needed down here, as well as up North.
Cleo dropped her chin and closed her book. She blinked back the tears that threatened to drop any second. Maybe she did read too much like Otis said. She really hadn't meant to sound so self-centered. And it wasn't that she had anything against working in the South--okay, she was against working in the fields--but it was just . . . just . . . that she knew, no felt, something bigger was in store for her in New York.
"Cleo! Cleo!"
Mama was shaking her shoulder so hard she thought her collarbone would come unhinged. How long had she been lost in thought? "Yes, Mama?"
"Didn't you hear me calling you, girl? What's wrong with you?"
"I'm fine, Mama. I was just thinking is all."
"Well, child, that's the saddest look of "fine" I've ever seen." Mama shook her head. "Cleo, this here's a mean, hard world. And I don't mean just here in the South. The North has its problems, too."
Well, that's it for today. Thanks so much for reading!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Teaser Tuesday
Hi all . . . I haven't posted a teaser in quite a while and just wanted to run this by folks . . . it's a relatively new scene I've been trying to develop.
Just to set up the scene for you: my main character, Cleo, has gone to visit her great-grandmother (Ma Murr), a former slave, who lives a bit farther out in the country.
Just to set up the scene for you: my main character, Cleo, has gone to visit her great-grandmother (Ma Murr), a former slave, who lives a bit farther out in the country.
From TRAIN WATCH:
Ma Murr said, "Do it, chile! Run for your life!" She got a faraway look in her eyes. "Yes, yes." She nodded. "Just like I ran for mine. Mmm. hmm. You want to be free. Lum and Jenny ain't free 'cause they still working for Boss Man. But you, chile, you has a chance to be free. Grab it!"
She twisted around, causing Cleo to abruptly stop combing her silvery, waist-length hair. "You hearin' me, chile?"
Cleo blinked. "Y-Y-Yes, Ma'am." Ma Murr always gave her the willies with that piercing stare.
Ma Murr smiled, content with her preaching. "Good. Good. Go on home, now. We's finished for today."
Thanks for reading!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Work-In-Progress Wednesday
Thought I'd catch the tail end of W-I-P Wednesday with this short passage from my work-in-progress, TRAIN WATCH:
Scene Setup: Grandpa Lum has just brought Cleo (the 11-year-old main character) and Otis' mother, Sarah, home from the train station. Cleo learns her mother and grandfather were fussing during the whole ride back.
Okay, *taking a deep breath*, here it is:
"Cleo, baby," Mama cried, as they hugged.
"Mmm." Cleo sighed, inhaling the floral scent of her mama’s perfume, her arms wrapped tightly around her mama’s waist. "Mama, you smell so good."
"Thanks, honey." She shrugged off her fur-collared coat, then set her shiny black handbag down on one end of the sofa. "The lady who lives next door to me is a representative for this beauty company called Avon. She showed me a little booklet filled with all kinds of perfumes, powders, and lipsticks, then let me try a sample of this fragrance. Isn’t it heavenly?"
"It sure is, Mama. What did Grandpa say?"
"Oh, what didn’t he say? First, he said I smelled like I’d taken a bath in a pot of simmerin’ flowers. Then I said, ‘Well, Daddy, I got a gentleman friend who likes it very much.’ Then he said, ‘if you spendin’ your time with a fella, I ’spect you won’t have much time for your children. So’s they might as well stay with me and your ma.’"
"Oh, Mama, no."
"Oh, yes, he did. So I lit into him like a match to wood."
Taking one look at her mama’s face, Cleo knew she and Grandpa Lum must have been arguing something terrible during the ride back from Winston-Salem. Her mama was piping-hot mad but, boy oh boy, did she look dignified! She wore a silk-like emerald green suit that enhanced her caramel complexion to a T, topped off with a matching hat tilted to the side, Greta Garbo style. And with those satiny-smooth white gloves, black high-heeled patent-leather pumps, and newly-pressed pageboy bob hair-do, she looked like she was going to a church revival! Cleo beamed, proud that her mama was doing good in New York, despite what Grandpa Lum said about her leaving the South.
Scene Setup: Grandpa Lum has just brought Cleo (the 11-year-old main character) and Otis' mother, Sarah, home from the train station. Cleo learns her mother and grandfather were fussing during the whole ride back.
Okay, *taking a deep breath*, here it is:
"Cleo, baby," Mama cried, as they hugged.
"Mmm." Cleo sighed, inhaling the floral scent of her mama’s perfume, her arms wrapped tightly around her mama’s waist. "Mama, you smell so good."
"Thanks, honey." She shrugged off her fur-collared coat, then set her shiny black handbag down on one end of the sofa. "The lady who lives next door to me is a representative for this beauty company called Avon. She showed me a little booklet filled with all kinds of perfumes, powders, and lipsticks, then let me try a sample of this fragrance. Isn’t it heavenly?"
"It sure is, Mama. What did Grandpa say?"
"Oh, what didn’t he say? First, he said I smelled like I’d taken a bath in a pot of simmerin’ flowers. Then I said, ‘Well, Daddy, I got a gentleman friend who likes it very much.’ Then he said, ‘if you spendin’ your time with a fella, I ’spect you won’t have much time for your children. So’s they might as well stay with me and your ma.’"
"Oh, Mama, no."
"Oh, yes, he did. So I lit into him like a match to wood."
Taking one look at her mama’s face, Cleo knew she and Grandpa Lum must have been arguing something terrible during the ride back from Winston-Salem. Her mama was piping-hot mad but, boy oh boy, did she look dignified! She wore a silk-like emerald green suit that enhanced her caramel complexion to a T, topped off with a matching hat tilted to the side, Greta Garbo style. And with those satiny-smooth white gloves, black high-heeled patent-leather pumps, and newly-pressed pageboy bob hair-do, she looked like she was going to a church revival! Cleo beamed, proud that her mama was doing good in New York, despite what Grandpa Lum said about her leaving the South.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Teaser Tuesday
Today I'm posting my entry from a recent "Drop the Needle" exercise given by Miss Snark's First Victim. The point of this exercise was to show an instance of over-the-top emotion. I chose this passage from my current work-in-progress, TRAIN WATCH:
A very brief blurb to set up the scene: The primary character is Grandma Jenny who is in the midst of whipping Cleo, her granddaughter, with a switch for being insolent. Cleo, in an attempt to distract Grandma Jenny from whipping Hattie (who is Jenny's 12-year-old daughter as well as Cleo's aunt), had sucked her teeth at Grandma Jenny (a no-no in the 1940s). What brought all this on was when Hattie, in a fit of anger, struck Cleo's brother in the head with a rolling pin.
Okay, here it is:
Grandpa Lum grabbed Grandma Jenny as she started to swing out again at Cleo.
“Lum, let go now!” she ordered. “Get away from me!”
“Jenny, Cleo ain’t done nothin’ wrong here, ” he said, loosening his grip on her arm.
“Nothin’ wrong my foot!” Grandma Jenny snorted. “No child gonna suck their teeth at me.” She nodded toward Cleo. “And get away with it.”
“Now Jenny I heard Cleo trying to apologize. Why don’t you leave her be?”
“And why don’t you go on in the house, Lum?” Grandma Jenny said, her nostrils flaring.
He started to say something back but, catching Grandma Jenny’s piercing gaze, ambled on toward the house, mumbling about how it was useless to argue when she was in such a state.
“Cleo, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you goin’ to hear this, too.” Grandma Jenny turned to face Hattie.
“Girl, you can’t be haulin’ off and hittin’ people just because they say somethin’ about you. Shoot. They talked about my savior, Jesus. And guess who came out on top anyway? She closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to erase a bad memory. “Before I know it, you’ll be done hit some white person upside their head. And then whatcha gonna do? Huh? Them white folks don’t play around, Hattie. They’ll just as soon lynch a colored woman as well as they would a man.” She wiped her forehead. “I better not catch you raisin’ your hand to your nephew again.” Her eyes narrowed. “You hear?”
So, any thoughts/suggestions/criticisms? You can click on my entry (see above) to see what others had to say.
Anyone else doing Teaser Tuesday? Let me know and I'll drop on by. Thanks!
A very brief blurb to set up the scene: The primary character is Grandma Jenny who is in the midst of whipping Cleo, her granddaughter, with a switch for being insolent. Cleo, in an attempt to distract Grandma Jenny from whipping Hattie (who is Jenny's 12-year-old daughter as well as Cleo's aunt), had sucked her teeth at Grandma Jenny (a no-no in the 1940s). What brought all this on was when Hattie, in a fit of anger, struck Cleo's brother in the head with a rolling pin.
Okay, here it is:
Grandpa Lum grabbed Grandma Jenny as she started to swing out again at Cleo.
“Lum, let go now!” she ordered. “Get away from me!”
“Jenny, Cleo ain’t done nothin’ wrong here, ” he said, loosening his grip on her arm.
“Nothin’ wrong my foot!” Grandma Jenny snorted. “No child gonna suck their teeth at me.” She nodded toward Cleo. “And get away with it.”
“Now Jenny I heard Cleo trying to apologize. Why don’t you leave her be?”
“And why don’t you go on in the house, Lum?” Grandma Jenny said, her nostrils flaring.
He started to say something back but, catching Grandma Jenny’s piercing gaze, ambled on toward the house, mumbling about how it was useless to argue when she was in such a state.
“Cleo, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you goin’ to hear this, too.” Grandma Jenny turned to face Hattie.
“Girl, you can’t be haulin’ off and hittin’ people just because they say somethin’ about you. Shoot. They talked about my savior, Jesus. And guess who came out on top anyway? She closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to erase a bad memory. “Before I know it, you’ll be done hit some white person upside their head. And then whatcha gonna do? Huh? Them white folks don’t play around, Hattie. They’ll just as soon lynch a colored woman as well as they would a man.” She wiped her forehead. “I better not catch you raisin’ your hand to your nephew again.” Her eyes narrowed. “You hear?”
So, any thoughts/suggestions/criticisms? You can click on my entry (see above) to see what others had to say.
Anyone else doing Teaser Tuesday? Let me know and I'll drop on by. Thanks!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Teaser Tuesday
I'm not sure if anyone's reading this, but here's another excerpt from my MG work-in-progress:
From TRAIN WATCH:
Cleo raised her eyes to the ceiling. Thank you, Lord. Grandpa Lum hasn’t reached the house—yet.
“Whoo-weee! It’s . . . some . . . kinda . . . hot . . . out there!” Hattie huffed, as she pulled herself up and over the ladder. She wiped the steady drip of water off her dirt-streaked face with the back of her hand and down the sides of the faded, dust-covered overalls she wore. Catching her breath, she continued, “Papa says you better hurry on down. He don’t want anymore dilly-dallying from you.” She focused more clearly on Cleo. “You still in your school clothes?”
“Hattie,” Cleo begged, shimmying out her knee-length plaid skirt, “tell him I’m coming. Please?” She forced her clammy legs into the new pair of blue jeans her mama had sent last month. “ I just have to finish something first.”
“Papa don’t care ’bout none of that. You better get a move on or he’ll be up here with a switch—or a belt.” She looked over her shoulder, then back at Cleo. “He’s right behind me, you know.” Hattie’s anxious voice matched her worried face. She crooked her finger. “And I don’t want any part of it.”
“Humph. My papa never made me work in the field,” Cleo grumbled, looking out the half-way boarded window for her grandfather. “He wanted me to be a teacher, maybe even one for the high school.” She closed her eyes, remembering his dream for her. “He said my hands were for writing, not farming,” she muttered, turning from the window.
“I’m sorry ’bout your papa, Cleo, but, um, you know my papa don’t stand for no foolishness.” Hattie nodded vigorously as if confirming this fact more to herself than to Cleo. “Shoot. You’re lucky. None of us ever got any special treatment here, don’t care what they were tryin’ to be.” She stood glaring at Cleo with her chin stuck out and arms folded across her chest. “So you best get used to it. You been here long enough,” she added, her anger building.
Okay, so . . . any comments? criticisms? Don't worry, I've built up a tough skin!
From TRAIN WATCH:
Cleo raised her eyes to the ceiling. Thank you, Lord. Grandpa Lum hasn’t reached the house—yet.
“Whoo-weee! It’s . . . some . . . kinda . . . hot . . . out there!” Hattie huffed, as she pulled herself up and over the ladder. She wiped the steady drip of water off her dirt-streaked face with the back of her hand and down the sides of the faded, dust-covered overalls she wore. Catching her breath, she continued, “Papa says you better hurry on down. He don’t want anymore dilly-dallying from you.” She focused more clearly on Cleo. “You still in your school clothes?”
“Hattie,” Cleo begged, shimmying out her knee-length plaid skirt, “tell him I’m coming. Please?” She forced her clammy legs into the new pair of blue jeans her mama had sent last month. “ I just have to finish something first.”
“Papa don’t care ’bout none of that. You better get a move on or he’ll be up here with a switch—or a belt.” She looked over her shoulder, then back at Cleo. “He’s right behind me, you know.” Hattie’s anxious voice matched her worried face. She crooked her finger. “And I don’t want any part of it.”
“Humph. My papa never made me work in the field,” Cleo grumbled, looking out the half-way boarded window for her grandfather. “He wanted me to be a teacher, maybe even one for the high school.” She closed her eyes, remembering his dream for her. “He said my hands were for writing, not farming,” she muttered, turning from the window.
“I’m sorry ’bout your papa, Cleo, but, um, you know my papa don’t stand for no foolishness.” Hattie nodded vigorously as if confirming this fact more to herself than to Cleo. “Shoot. You’re lucky. None of us ever got any special treatment here, don’t care what they were tryin’ to be.” She stood glaring at Cleo with her chin stuck out and arms folded across her chest. “So you best get used to it. You been here long enough,” she added, her anger building.
Okay, so . . . any comments? criticisms? Don't worry, I've built up a tough skin!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Teaser Tuesday
I've noticed that some blogs have what is called Teaser Tuesday. I don't know the official rules (are there any?) but I guess this is where you post a snippit or two from a current work-in-progress in the hope of a little feedback from your readers. Am I right? I hope so because . . . here I go!
From TRAIN WATCH:
April 10, 1941
Dear Mama,
I hope you are doing well. PLEASE COME GET ME AND OTIS! I’m tired of working in the field picking cotton and corn and tobacco and whatever else Grandpa Lum grows for the “BOSS MAN.” I thought slavery was over! I want to come live with you, Mama. NOW! And Mama, you’re not going to believe this, but yesterday, when me, Hattie, and Otis were out in the cotton field pulling weeds, Grandma Jenny hit me over the head with a hoe! She said I was too slow. Mama, I was just tired. Tired from walking the mile home from school. Tired from the heat. Tired from working in the fields. Please come get--
CRR-E-E-E-A-K
Oh no. Someone’s coming up the ladder! Grandpa Lum will skin me alive if he finds me up here writing to my mama.
Shoving aside the worn notebook she was writing on, Cleo Holmes swung her brown, mosquito-bitten legs over the side of the bed, narrowly missing the jagged metal springs poking through the thin mattress.
With the finished letter still in her hand, she hurried across the room and quickly pushed aside the dark sheet of the makeshift closet. Pulling down an old, tattered shoe box from the back of the top shelf, she placed the letter in the box alongside her blue ribbon ink pen (won in a most-books-read-over-the-summer contest). She scooted to the middle of the room just as Hattie, her twelve-year-old aunt, appeared at the top of the ladder, sweat streaming down the sides of her sun-kissed, chocolate-brown face.
From TRAIN WATCH:
April 10, 1941
Dear Mama,
I hope you are doing well. PLEASE COME GET ME AND OTIS! I’m tired of working in the field picking cotton and corn and tobacco and whatever else Grandpa Lum grows for the “BOSS MAN.” I thought slavery was over! I want to come live with you, Mama. NOW! And Mama, you’re not going to believe this, but yesterday, when me, Hattie, and Otis were out in the cotton field pulling weeds, Grandma Jenny hit me over the head with a hoe! She said I was too slow. Mama, I was just tired. Tired from walking the mile home from school. Tired from the heat. Tired from working in the fields. Please come get--
CRR-E-E-E-A-K
Oh no. Someone’s coming up the ladder! Grandpa Lum will skin me alive if he finds me up here writing to my mama.
Shoving aside the worn notebook she was writing on, Cleo Holmes swung her brown, mosquito-bitten legs over the side of the bed, narrowly missing the jagged metal springs poking through the thin mattress.
With the finished letter still in her hand, she hurried across the room and quickly pushed aside the dark sheet of the makeshift closet. Pulling down an old, tattered shoe box from the back of the top shelf, she placed the letter in the box alongside her blue ribbon ink pen (won in a most-books-read-over-the-summer contest). She scooted to the middle of the room just as Hattie, her twelve-year-old aunt, appeared at the top of the ladder, sweat streaming down the sides of her sun-kissed, chocolate-brown face.
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