Satire in a Children’s Book
-originally posted on July 5, 2018
Editing a children’s book is a dream come true, and I am so excited to see how my current project will turn out, I can hardly sleep at night! Finally, I decided to write down some of the restless thoughts keeping me up at night, hoping that setting them down firmly may help anchor some of them that are running wildly to and fro!
I met two young women at an entrepreneurs’ networking event in Dallas just a week ago. It was their first time to attend one of the monthly Intelligent Millionaires Network meetings and only my second time, so we were all three a little timid about talking to others. Observation for awhile seems like a safe strategy when you’re trying to learn how to successfully launch a new business.
Erin and Chasa sat at my table; we introduced ourselves and talked briefly in between the guest speakers. They were friendly and easy to speak to as I shared what little I knew about the IMN group.
When I told them that I am a freelance copywriter and editor and handed them my business card, I saw Chasa flash Erin an odd glance but didn’t think much about it until later.
The next day I received an email from Erin; she explained that her father had written a children’s book many years ago and had submitted it to three publishers way back in the early 1990’s. Unfortunately, all three publishing companies had rejected the manuscript, leaving Erin’s father so disappointed he never wrote another book.
Now, Erin explained, she wanted to preserve her father’s work and his drawings, have the manuscript edited, and perhaps even published before her father passed and “it was too late.”
Since they lived on the other side of Ft. Worth, I suggested we meet in a coffee shop midway between us. Several days later I was pleasantly surprised and increasingly more thrilled every time Erin turned a new leaf of her father’s manuscript to reveal another gorgeous drawing; he was a wonderful artist and I gasped when she said he had not drawn anything else since his book had been rejected so long ago.
I can’t wait for you to be able to see this book and the drawings! Oh, my! They are filled with bright colors and sharp lines depicting fabulous and quirky little details of the lives and struggles of a community of mice in a quaint tree village, forced to persevere under the dictatorship of ruthless factory overseers. The story reminds me of “Watership Down” by Richard Adams and “The Jungle” by Upton Sinclair!
Perhaps it is because I am a visionary thinker, but I can see this book becoming an award-winning children’s classic!
There are 270 typed pages of text, so it will take me a while to finish the editing process, and I intend to prepare the manuscript for both print and e-publishing so that Erin and her father can enjoy this beautiful book in any way they wish, as I hope you will, too!
Now, the midnight hour is upon me, and I must get these scampering thoughts to bed so that I can work on the book some more in the morning. Good night, all!
-originally posted on July 4, 2018
At seventeen I escaped Mom, the abusive dictator, and ran into the arms of a gentleman who was kind and generous. Thank God Gary was kind and generous. Still, for various reasons which I will not go into here, I grew increasingly unhappy until, after twenty-five years of marriage, I gradually sank into a clinical depression, in which I began to pass time in suicide ideation.
I felt trapped, buried, and hopeless.
Gary was still kind and generous and gracious, so he agreed to set me free. He has since remarried and his new wife of five years, Julie, and I get along so well, we love each other and she calls me (affectionately) their ex-wife. I am so happy for them both, and thankful to God that she is as kind and gracious and generous as he is.
So, for seven years out of fifty I have enjoyed independence.
Divorced, I’ve learned how to provide for and depend upon myself. I’ve dated, had a boyfriend for three years, and been in love. I have been in unrequited love; it is the kind I write most often about.
Being independent at fifty can be a little scary at times, but I am not afraid to be alone; I just get lonely sometimes. An introvert, I nevertheless enjoy the company of intelligent, compassionate, creative minds and love meeting people and learning about them. I fall in love with the intellect of people, especially if they are brilliant and humble.
I am happy you found my first blog post; I’m not sure how often I’ll post. Most of my writings the last few years have been short poems; occasionally (rarely) I’ll write a nonfiction short story when some memory or idea will not let my mind rest, when it demands to be set free, to be heard.
I am thankful you are here.